COPYRIGHT NOTICE: This literary work is written solely by Bruce Leonard Beal (previously noticed as "Beality," as a pseudo name), who is its copyright holder by United States and international law, Copyright 1986-2010.  This work existed in printed form before appearing on the Internet. This work may not legally, and shall not, be copied, sold or distributed without the permission of the author. However, according to the "fair use" principle, it is allowed to print out these web pages for your personal reading, as long as these are not copied and/or distributed to other people.  Please be aware, however, that I have embedded technology that allows me to identify text copied from this website. 

NINE                                                                

Aboard Putin's Yacht

Russia

Two Hours Later, Tuesday, June 16

Putin had felt uneasy in the few hours since his talk with his Intelligence Chief.  He had not even had any more vodka.  On his much deserved vacation no less.

"Another communication, Sir, from the Intelligence Chief."

Putin again picked up his encrypted radiotelephone.

"Sir, we have got some sinister news."

Putin did not like the sound of this.

"Our satellites are picking up a lot of unusual activity.  I believe that the U.S. is calling up the National Guard in all of its States.  And another thing, the U.S. navies, all of them, Sir, are redeploying in non-routine ways."

"Non-routine ways?"

"Yes, Sir, although they are concentrating in the Gulf area, as they did in the Iraqi wars, they seem to be dispersing everywhere else."

"Dispersing?  Why would they do that?

"Well, Sir, they could be making it hard for us to hit them."

The Russians had always thought in theory that they could eliminate most of the U.S. Navy surface ships in one hour by dropping large hydrogen warheads in the midst of each battle group, if it really came to it.  Dispersal would, of course, frustrate any such Russian strategy.

"My God," thought Putin, "This new American President has gone mad.  She is going to hit us by surprise, new friend or not."

The Russians had never seriously considered that the U.S. would strike first, although this had always been historically an official propaganda line to justify Russian military buildup.  How could the U.S. know that the Russia was preparing for just the same thing, if the domestic situation continued to deteriorate to the point where no other choice existed?

"A pre-emptive strike?"

"Could be, Sir."

Putin detected a slight trembling in his Intelligence Chief's voice.  This certainly would frustrate any Russian first strike strategy, for the U.S. was already mobilizing.

"Comrade Chekovski, I want the Generals on the line, now!  I am going to order them to put Spetznau on full alert.  Better yet, I want them loaded in their attack vehicles ready to go.  I want the Backfires in the air.  The Supersonics and Stealth should be fueled and ready, but not airborne, until we are confronted with an actual threat.  The Russian Armies are to be put on full alert and moving out of known target areas.  All first strike missiles are to be button-ready.  And get the goddamn Navy out of port.

“I want all U.S. intelligence satellites computer-targeted, and the anti-satellite weapons button-ready.  And get the civilian evacuation plans in operation, as well as the anti-missile defenses of Moscow.  I want to know within the minute of the first firing of a U.S. or NATO missile.  Then, I will let everything go on a first strike basis, augmented by our strategic defense plans, such as they are.  That is all that we can do.

"And Comrade, get my wife on the line . . . and get me back to Moscow immediately!”

TEN                                                                  

The White House

Washington, D.C.

Two Hours Later, Tuesday, June 16

"Madam President, it's the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff on the line.  He's quite upset, to put it mildly."

"Hello General, what is it?  I have my hands full this morning.  You know I am going on television in less than an hour."

"Madam President, the Russians are mobilizing for war."

The President's gut convulsed so hard that acid splashed into her mouth.

"You know, Madam President, that we are redeploying the Navy.  The Russians have undoubtedly picked this up on their sats, and they may be suspecting the worst from us."

"And they probably see our National Guards activating also," added the President.  "Shit," thought the President, why hadshe not thought to call Russian President Medvedev or Putin? 

The President initially thought that the Russians were overreacting, and then a chilling doubt drove throughher consciousness.  Maybe the Russians knew our problem and had decided to take advantage of the confusion.  The President would not put it past the Russians.

He had worried that the Russians had always been preparing for war in a desperate attempt to divert attention away from their crumbling economy and infrastructure, in spite of their professed unilateral disarmament.  The President had never gotten anyone of any consequence to confirm that the Russians had truly disarmed, or merely gone underground.

"General, I want our armed forces on Red Alert.  Let your NATO counterparts know what is happening, but do not let anyone, anywhere, do anything foolish, unless I direct.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir.  Sir, are you…."

"Yes, I am telephoning Medvedev right now.  Let me know, if anything gets out of hand, you know."

"I know….”

The President picked up the red telephone.

Medvedev's field version of the red telephone rang.

"Ah, my wife," thought Medvedev.  Only his wife was allowed to use the red phone, very much against the treaty provisions, but Medvedev never thought the red phone would be used.  Why not put it to some use.

"This is The President of the United States."

Medvedev was stunned.  He really had not expected to talk to his adversary under the circumstances, although this might have something to do with his rather cryptic, but ominous, communication with Putin just previously.

"Before you evacuate Moscow, I think you should know that the United States has no intention of harming Russia."

"Well, Madam President, who are you going to war with then?"

"Proteus."

Putin had always suspected his knowledge of geography was insufficient, but this was ridiculous.  He had never heard of this "Proteus".

"Proteus?"

"Proteus is attacking Saudi Arabia's oil fields and possibly Iran's.  Maybe it will attack all of the world's oil fields."

Medvedev could not admit to the President of the United States that he did not have the slightest clue what "Proteus" was.

"Come now, Madam President, I hardly think Proteus is strong enough to do all that.  You are mobilizing your armies and navies, Madam President.  What am I to make of that?"

“We are at Red Alert, because we know you are mobilizing for war."

Medvedev was stunned anew that the President of the United States was advising him that America was at Red Alert before his own people had advised him of that fact.  This was really getting out of hand.

"President Medvedev, I am about to go on American television and advise the world about Proteus.  I have ordered our navies to intercept all oil tankers and search for Proteus.  I have ordered up our National Guards to prevent public disorder in my country and to supervise the mandatory inspection and rationing of all petroleum products."

Maybe this "Proteus" was a terrorist organization of which Medvedev had not been informed of, or maybe this was a psychological ploy to keep the Russians off balance just long enough to give America a strategic head start in the war.

The President was attempting to analyze the growing silence coming from the other end of the line.  "President Medvedev?"

"Yes, Madam President."

"Do you know about Proteus?"

Silence.

"Proteus is a bacterium, created by bioengineering, to clean up oil slicks…."

"Madam President, if I may interrupt, I will need the services of my translator now.  You are using words unknown to me.  Hold on for a minute, while I patch him in.  After he is on the line, please hesitate after each sentence, so that I may hear the translation.

The President heard many clicks and hisses.  Her mind raced to come up with the right words.

"Go ahead, Madam President."

"Let me start over.  Proteus is a bacterium, specially designed to clean up oil spills.  It was introduced into the massive oil slick in the Gulf, which was caused by the Kharg Island explosions.  Proteus has done a remarkable job of eliminating the gulf spill, too good a job."

"Excuse me, Madam President, what does this Proteus do?"

"Simply put, it eats oil."

"Oh yes, but it seems hardly necessary to…."

"Mr. Medvedev, it is not stopping in the Gulf.  It is eating the oil in the pipelines.  It is eating the oil in the tanks.  It is…."

"Please, Madam President, you must slow down for the translator."

"I said that Proteus is eating the oil of Saudi Arabia, and probably is eating the oil of Iran."

Pause.

"It is probably in the oil of tankers leaving the Gulf right now."

Pause.

“If we do not stop this thing, this Proteus, it may eat all of the oil in the world."

Pause.

"Our oil."

Pause.

"Your oil!"

Pause.

"This is why our navies are in action and our National Guards.  Do you understand?"

Medvedev was simply not prepared for this.  It did not seem real.  He pinched himself to make sure he was awake.

"How can I believe you?"

The President thought Medvedev had whispered this.

"Would I be talking to you now, if I was preparing a surprise attack?"

“A good point”, thought Medvedev.

"Would I be dispersing my navies for Christ sake, if I were going to war?"

“Maybe,” thought Medvedev, remembering the words of his Intelligence Chief's recent call.  But he did not dare expose strategic Soviet secrets to an America President.

"Madam President, I must verify what you say, and quickly, for my military people and I are very concerned at what we see right now.  We cannot afford to take chances under the circumstances.  I think that you can understand that, Madam President."

"President Medvedev, I am going to connect King Sultan of Saudi Arabia into this conversation.  He will verify what I am saying."

Medvedev had spoken to Sultan after his ascension to the throne after the heart attack of Abdullah. Abdullah was considered much more favorable to the Russians than his predecessor and successor.  Medvedev wondered if his people had yet obtained a voiceprint of Sultan in order to confirm that Sultan was in fact behind the voice that would be talking to him.

"Mr. Medvedev, stay on the line.  I am attempting to get Sultan on the line at this time."

If this was an American ploy to slow the Soviet response, it sure was working, thought Medvedev with a new wave of paranoia.

ELEVEN                                                          

The White House

Washington, D.C.

Two Hours Later, Tuesday, June 16

"We interrupt our regular programming for a television address by the President of the United States of America."

"Brian, while we are waiting for the President, I think we should note the extraordinary short notice given for this address and the early time of day, as most people are not home from work yet.  This is highly unusual."

"Yes, Roger.  There is considerable speculation that this address has something to do with unconfirmed reports of large fires burning in the Saudi Arabian oil fields.  No cause for these fires has been announced.  Of course, sabotage or Iranian air strikes cannot be ruled out.  There is fear spreading throughout the Capitol that the President is going to announce some sort of American military intervention…."

"Brian, the President has appeared…."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States of America."

The President walked to the podium, which was almost hidden behind the Presidential seal.  She wondered whether this was really happening or whether it was only a long, very long nightmare.

She was still shaking from the aftermath of her conference call with Medvedev, who had seemed finally to believe.  King Sultan repeatedly corroborated the President's story.  Yet, the President was not certain that Medvedev believed, or if he believed, that he was not really taking advantage of the situation, and stalling by feigning disbelief.

Considering what he was about to say, many people would think her mad, thought the President.  In a strange way, she wished she was.  This would be preferable to what she was about to describe to the American people, and the World.

Had she inadvertently been speaking these last thoughts to the television audience?  No, the media personnel were waiting expectantly.

The President laid her speech notes on the podium, to be used if the teleprompters failed.  They and the teleprompters would lie there unused, for the President was about to speak directly from her mind, and from her heart.

"My Fellow Americans.  I speak tonight, not only to Americans, but also to all citizens of the World, for this is a matter that affects us all.  I wish I could say that I had good news and bad news for you tonight (a few nervous chuckles could be heard in the audience), but I am afraid that it is all bad news."

Get on with it, thought the President.  This was no time for humor.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the oil tanks of Saudi Arabia are burning.  This is not, I repeat, not the result of any military action of any nation, nor is it the act of sabotage.  The Saudi Government in coordination with the United States has decided to intentionally set fire to the oil tanks."

There was a stir among the media personnel in the conference room.  "Is this for real?" could be heard above the hurried whispers.

"An organism of human creation has turned upon us.  We commonly know the bacterium as ‘Proteus’.  It was introduced to the Arabian Gulf to clean up the unprecedented oil slick resulting from the explosion of oil facilities on Kharg Island in the Persian Gulf.  Unfortunately, this bacterium has also eaten its way up the oil pipelines and into the oil tanks of Saudi Arabia.

"It is consuming the oil in those tanks.  There is fear that Proteus may move from the tanks through pipelines to the underground oil fields themselves.

"My science advisors say that once introduced to the underground oil fields, Proteus would proceed to consume them entirely.  It is for this reason that the oil tanks have been set afire, in the hopes that Proteus can be stopped before it gets to these underground oil fields.

"We must not let this thing get out of the Middle East."

The President had fairly shouted out this last sentence.  She was trembling.  Was the camera picking this up?  Did it matter, she wondered.

"I have declared a National Emergency, and with the powers thereby vested, I am taking the following actions:

"First.  All further oil shipments to the United States of America are hereby suspended and prohibited.  Violators shall be subject to the subversion laws of the United States and to the maximum penalties therefor.

"Second.  All oil and oil products presently in America, no matter where or in what form are to be placed under the control of the Federal Government, effective immediately.  The National Guards of the various States are being called to active duty and shall assist in enforcing and administering this order."

All of the faces in the President's audience were visibly in shock.

"Any person violating the above shall be prosecuted as I stated previously.  After such oil products have been taken into government custody, they shall be inspected for contamination by Proteus.  If free from contamination, such oil products shall be subject to mandatory rationing, to be allocated as shall be determined by the Federal Government.  An allocation program is at this moment being worked on by the appropriate officials.  Until such program is initiated, the standby emergency allocation program conceived for use in case of another Arab Boycott shall be in effect."

"Third.  A National Holiday is hereby decreed, effective immediately, applicable to all Americans, except those Americans whose jobs are critical to the health and safety of this Nation.  This holiday is mandatory, and shall be in effect until the above measures have been implemented.  All financial markets and institutions shall remain closed during this National Holiday in order to prevent panic and destruction of such markets and institutions.  Further regulations shall be implemented in this respect."

"Fourth.  All media shall, effective immediately, assist the various government agencies in advising all Americans how to cope with this crisis and assist the government in its efforts to meet it."

"Fifth.  I have been in contact with all governments in the Gulf area, and with the exception of Iran, these governments have agreed to suspend all oil shipments from their nations.  I will be negotiating with the President of Iran through the night to obtain its cooperation.  Failing that, I shall be forced to block any shipments of oil from Iran by whatever means I deem appropriate, including military."

"I have already ordered the Seventh Fleet to block the movement of all oil traffic out of the Gulf, employing the use of military force, if necessary.  I have also ordered the combined navies of the United states to stop and inspect any oil tanker discovered in international waters."

There was audible gasping all around the President.  "I have done enough damage", thought the President, "I had better close with a note of hope and optimism."

"I have every confidence that the measures I have taken will limit the damage to the Middle East.  I have the advice of the greatest scientific thinkers in the Nation.  (Those very same bastards who caused this problem, thought the President.)

“We will lick this thing.  We will find a way to neutralize Proteus.  Our lives will return to normal with all of your help.”  The President hoped others would believe this more than he did at this moment.

"God Bless You and Good Night."

The President left the podium.  She felt faint.  The First Husband sensed this immediately and rushed to help her walk.

"Have I lied to the American people?"

"What do you mean, Madam President?"

"Will we lick this thing?"

"Of course, Madam President."

The First Husband rarely used the term "Madam President" when speaking to her.  This did not go unnoticed by the President.

TWELVE                                                          

National Guard Armory

Des Moines, Iowa

Four Hours Later, Tuesday, June 16

It was nine o’clock in the evening.  Dave Gehring sat in a chair in the middle of the dimly lit Armory, waiting for James to arrive.  Groups of Guards were forming, and the nervous chatter was palpable.  Dave stared at his boots.

"Jesus, Mary did not shine my boots after the last exercise.  I am going to catch hell for that upon inspection!"

"Strange," thought Dave, "Here I am worrying about my boots, when I am about to go out and deny my fellow Americans the dearest thing to their hearts - gasoline!"

Dave remembered some of the news accounts of the Arab Embargo, when Americans had last been denied complete access to gasoline.  There had been anger.  There had been disturbances.  There had been violence.  There had even been death.

Dave hoped sincerely that Americans had somehow changed since then, but he doubted it, and he also doubted that this particular situation was any less dangerous than the Arab Embargo.  In fact, he surmised that this situation could be a lot more dangerous, yes, a lot more dangerous.

James swaggered in, spotted Dave and yelled across the room in his typical macho manner, "Hey, Dave, wish we were going to the big desert to kick some butt, some Iranian butt."

"Yeah!” Dave yelled back, "And you are just as suicidal as they are!"

"It beats hell out of guarding gas stations against hollering housewives and vicious vacationers!"

"Attention!"

The Guardsmen snapped to attention.

Commander Mueller walked briskly to the front of the room.

"Men, I do not want to overstate the seriousness of this exercise, but this may not be a piece of cake either.  Now, we do not know exactly what we are going to be up against here, but you probably will have to use every ounce of diplomacy, patience, and tolerance that you have, and then some.

Dave let out a sigh of relief.  Looks like no inspection.  And no cussing out for lack of spit polish.

The Commander continued.  "This all has to do with some weird bug crawling around in the Middle East and eating all the oil in sight.”

Groans and comments of disbelief were heard all around.

"Now, I do not know all the details, so spare me any questions beyond what I tell you tonight.  I do know that it is serious.  The President is not taking any chances.

“If by any chance you missed the President's address earlier today, I will repeat the portions we are concerned with here:

‘All oil and oil products presently in America, no matter where or in what form are to be placed under the control of the Federal Government, effective immediately.  The National Guards of the various States are being called to active duty and shall assist in enforcing and administering this order.

‘Violators shall be subject to the subversion laws of the United States and to the maximum penalties provided therefor.

‘After such oil products have been taken into government custody, they shall be inspected for contamination by Proteus.  If free from contamination, such oil products shall be subject to mandatory rationing, to be allocated as shall be determined by the Federal Government.  An allocation program is at this moment being worked on by the appropriate officials.  Until such program is initiated, the standby emergency allocation program conceived for use in case of another Arab Boycott shall be in effect.

‘A National Holiday is hereby decreed, effective immediately, applicable to all Americans, except those Americans whose jobs are critical to the health and safety of this Nation.  This holiday is mandatory, and shall be in effect until the above measures have been implemented.' "End of Presidential speech."

“You will be given photocopies of the President's speech, which you will read to anyone who questions you.  You will not volunteer anything further.  Do you understand?"

A wide variety of utterances could be heard throughout the room.

"Now, I will translate these orders for you.  We will secure all sites containing commercial quantities of oil or oil products in Des Moines and surrounding area.  No oil or oil products will be sold, given, traded or otherwise obtained by anyone.  Do you understand me?

“Even if your mother comes begging for gasoline on her bloody knees, you will not give it to her.  Even if your girlfriend needs gasoline to get to her brother's wedding, you will not give it to her.  Do not let them steal it.  Do not let them take it by force.  You will do whatever is necessary to stop anyone from taking oil, gas or the like.  You will shoulder your weapons . . . but do try not to use them, okay?  We do not need Katie Couric picking on us.  Do you hear what I am saying?"

Confusion.

"Do you hear what I am saying?!"

There were a few "Yes Sirs".

Louder, "Do you hear what I am saying?!!"

A veritable chorus, "Yes Sir!"

"Roberts and Sampson."

"Yes, Sir!"

You take the Union truck stop on I-80.

"Yes, Sir."

"And be prepared to live there for awhile."

"Yes, Sir."

"Davidson, Smith, Berring and Thompsen, you secure the Texaco distribution center on Kingsgate Avenue."

"Yes, Sir."

"And do not let anyone show up for work, unless they are absolutely necessary to keep the place from exploding or burning down.  And that goes for all of you at all of these places.  There is a mandatory National Holiday going on here.  Tell them they might as well enjoy it."

"Yes, sir."

"Gehring and Templeton."

"Yes, Sir."

"You take the station at Broadway and Fifth."

"Yes, Sir."

The Commander continued to assign.

James turned to Dave and whispered, "Well, I was afraid of this.  We drew a hot combat zone, even under ordinary circumstances, Broadway and Fifth.  Afghanistan was safer than Broadway and Fifth on some nights.  I hear they had to hire gang members to work the place at night.  Nobody else would!"

#

The Commander's voice boomed, "Move out!  And I do not want to hear about any trouble from anyone.  I do not have any men to spare for backup anyway.  You are all assigned out.  Let us show them how firm we can be without a fight.  Get out of here!"

"Yes, Sir."

#

Dave Gehring and James Templeton drove east on Broadway towards Fifth in a Humvie.  The night was sultrier than usual, even for an Iowan summer.  The streets were strangely silent for 10 P.M.  As they approached Fifth Avenue, however, things were definitely picking up.

Their appointed gasoline station came into view.  There were lines of cars everywhere, waiting to fill up.

"Jesus, Dave," Jim yelled, "They are still selling gasoline!"

"Are you sure they are selling it.  I do not see any money changing hands!"

“Why didn’t the operators turn off the switches or circuit breakers for the pumps when they left?”

“Maybe they forgot in the excitement.”

“Maybe they are filling up their own vehicles right now.”

"Well, we do have our orders."

"Yes, unfortunately we do.  Well, here we go….”

James drove the Humvie as close to the pumps as he could.  He could hear people in line yelling obscenities at them for crashing the line.  Many of them did not know that this vehicle contained persons with the authority to deny them the one thing they fervently desired at this particular time, gasoline.

Dave and James slung their M-16 rifles over their shoulders as they exited the vehicle.  This was definitely going to be the pits.

James took the initiative, as usual.

"Folks, you know the situation.  No further gas will be sold from this station, or any other station for that matter, until the government has had the chance to inspect these supplies and determine that they are not contaminated by Protagious, or whatever that thing is.  So please, get in your cars and go home.  Things will be back to normal soon."

A large man, dressed in a red plaid flannel shirt, emerged from his pickup truck and walked up to James, menacingly close thought James, and stated quite matter of factly, "You know, this is a Goddamned Communist plot.  This whole cock and bull story has been dreamed up by the President to overthrow the United States government.  I do not for a minute believe that any of this bug shit is for real."

Without flinching, James stared down this man, stating, "I do not know who you are, but I can assure you that this is for real, and you, and all of you, are going to get into your cars and go home.  No more gasoline will be dispensed from this gasoline station at this time.  Now, please go home."  After an insecure silence, "We have our orders."

The burly man continued, "I have an empty gas tank.  I may not make it home, and I am going to fill my tank with gasoline."

"I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to do that."

By this time, the vehicles had emptied of their occupants, and quite a crowd of people had assembled around to listen to this exchange.

"Look mister, you are talking to an American here.  I was in the military, you know, keeping the Communists from taking over the world.  Now, I am in America, a free country, you know, and I am not going to let some guy in military uniform tell me what I can do in my own country."

James’s patience was wearing thin, "I have orders to arrest you, if you attempt to take gasoline from this station.  Now, please get into your truck and go home.  And that goes for all of you."

The crowd was getting ugly.

The large man turned around with a threatening mutter, "You ain't seen the last of me yet."

Nature abhors a vacuum.  As soon as this man had left, many people attempted to take his place.  A multitude of gripes, complaints, cries, screams, cuss words and what have you were enveloping James and Dave.

Dave felt a sense of panic.  They were losing control of this crowd.  There was no way on Earth the two of them could control this crowd, unless they shouldered their weapons, and perhaps fired a round or two over the crowd's head.

James turned to Dave and fairly shouted.  "Call for backup.  We are going to need it."  At this point people seemed to be content with arguing about it, but that would not last for long.  Dave headed for the Humvie, hoping James could hold his own.

"Commander, this is Gehring.  We have an ugly crowd here.  I do not think we can hold it alone.  I sure hope you can spare a vehicle full of men."

"Gehring, I told you during the briefing that all of you were deployed, and I had no one to spare.  You are going to have to handle it alone."

"But Commander, I think we are going to have to display force.  And if that does not work…."

"Look, Gehring, tell them a whole division of Marines is coming.  Tell them anything.  Just handle it.  I will call the Police Chief and see if he can spare anyone, but you are not the first Guard to call for backup.  I will see what I can do, but no guarantees.  Be firm.  Good luck."

"Yes, Sir", said Dave, "We will do our best.  Hey look Commander, are we really supposed to shoot or just do the best we can and then withdraw?"

"Your orders are not to let anyone take any oil or oil products from your assigned area.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Dave caught a red plaid shirt out of the corner of his eye.  Turning around, Dave saw the same large man who he had gotten into an argument with previously putting down a red five gallon gas can at the nearest gasoline pump, and pulling out the pump nozzle.

Dave quickly glanced over to James, who he could see was terribly enmeshed in a large crowd of angry persons.  Well, this was it.  Dave was going to have to handle this himself.  He picked up his M-16 and cocked it.  He walked over to the man filling his gas can and yelled, "We told you what to do.  You have failed to do it.  You are violating a Presidential order, which I am here to enforce.  You are under arrest."

The man in the red plaid shirt slowly looked up at Dave, without stopping his filling action and glared at Dave with one of those shit-eating grins you get when someone is daring you to do something about it without exactly saying so.

"Well, you son of a bitch", thought Dave, "I am holding an automatic rifle and giving you an order, and you have the gall to disobey me."

Without thinking further, Dave lifted his weapon up in the air and squeezed the trigger.  Now you may not be aware of how an M-16 shoots, but it is fully automatic, and if you hold the trigger down even for a mere second, quite a few rounds are going to pour out of that gun.

Complete silence.  A look of horror spread across the faces of most of the persons in the crowd.  James had a complete look of shock, partly relieved when he realized that it was Dave's weapon that had discharged, with Dave behind the trigger.  Yet, he was still shocked.

The man in the red plaid shirt froze.  He stared intently at Dave to see if he was for real.  Dave stood his moral ground.  The man could see the fury in Dave's eyes.  He slowly removed the nozzle from the can and replaced it into the pump.  He then started to put the gas can cap back onto the can.

"Step away from the can", barked Dave, surprised at his own aggressiveness, yet knowing that the source of his courage came from the effect the burst of gunfire had had on the crowd.  "You are under arrest."  The crowd was intently watching these developments in relative silence.

"You are arresting me?"

"Yes."

"You have got to be kidding.  What for?"

Dave's crowd control training was coming back.  Stay in control.  Do not let them verbally gain control by making you go on the defensive with righteously indignant questions.

"Turn around.  Put your hands on the pump.  I am going to check you for weapons."

"Are you going to give me my rights?

"Shut up and turn around."

Dave lowered his weapon.  The man complied.

With M-16 in one hand and using the other hand to pat, Dave conducted a hand search.

"Watch your hands, you faggot".  Dave felt himself tightening and forced himself to relax.

The right hand boot felt much bigger at the top.  Dave inserted his hand and pulled out a double-barreled .22 Magnum derringer.  Such a weapon could be pretty nasty at short range.

Dave pulled it out.  He then perceived the man starting to move.  Dave just pushed him firmly against the pump.  "You will not need this for awhile."

"You better not lose that gun, you son-of-a-bitch, because I will be looking for you, after this is all over."

"That gun is the least of your worries right now.  Turn around and walk to the station.  The man in the red plaid shirt walked hesitantly towards the station.

James could sense that the outrage and courage of the crowd had been shattered by this single episode.  The man in the red plaid shirt, their self-appointed role model, had gone down in flames.  As long as these two men had their M-16s and the will to use them, the battle was over.  No one was going to get gasoline tonight without being arrested.

Not one person knew how bad it might go for them, if they were arrested.  Most of them had heard the President say quite clearly that they would be arrested for subversion.  Some of them probably thought subversion would bring them the death penalty.

Anyway, James was having an easy time of it dispersing the crowd now.  Soon, the entire crowd had gotten into their vehicles and departed.  James blocked the entrances and exits to the gasoline station with trash cans, tire racks, whatever he could find and made his way back to the station.

James met Dave with a grin.  "You sure have a dramatic way of dealing with things.  I did not know you had it in you.  You must have gotten nowhere on your request for backup, huh?"

"Yeah, how did you know we could not get backup?  It just pissed me off when I saw this guy come back with his gas can, after what we told him.  I just lost it."

"Well, I am sure glad you did.  I was not getting anywhere out there.  Things were deteriorating rapidly.  It is funny how a show of deadly force can bring an unarmed mob into control."

"Yeah, except this joker was not unarmed.  He had a Magnum derringer, a double-barreled one, in his boot.  I do not think we had better assume that anyone is unarmed out there tonight."

"Well, maybe you are right.  What are we going to do with this one, now?  If we have to watch him constantly tonight, that only leaves one of us to deal with the next bunch that comes along."

"Yeah, and the next bunch that comes along is going to have come from another gas station, where they did not get their empty tank filled, and they are going to have a plan, and they may be armed, especially around here."

"Dave, I am going to go call this in to the Commander, and see if he can take this man off of our hands."

"James, Commander said he was going to call the police.  See if they can come take these types off our hands and lock them up till someone knows what to do with them."

The man in the red plaid shirt just sat there and glared at Dave, and glared at Dave's weapon, and then at Dave.

"I will be back in a minute.  I also want to find the pump switches and turn them all off.  Hold down the fort!"

Dave chuckled at the thought of holding down a "fort".  He really hoped that it would not come to that.

Click Here for Chapters 13-16

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