Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) (7 page)

“Good luck to you, boy.”

Stephen limped out of the man’s house, and when he saw Stephen was a good distance away, the man opened the front door and yelled at a couple soldiers positioned across the street.

“Hey, boys, I just killed one of your own in self-defense.”

Moments later, Stephen saw several police cars and some military units speeding toward the man’s house. He figured the soldier’s death would have locked things down even tighter, but he was unaware of the man’s claim that he had killed the soldier in self-defense.

Stephen had reached his home and immediately began to call out, “Sammie … Evan …”

With each call he paused for a moment but heard nothing. He went to the bedroom and found the bugout bags. He could see a yellow-colored item protruding from the inside. It was Evan’s Minion doll. They wouldn’t have left without it. Stephen feared the worst. He knew they had been taken.

With a freshened sense of resolve, his mind became all the more void of logic. Anger was all he could feel.

He emptied his closet and pulled the carpet up. Hidden there, beneath, was a secret compartment built into the closet floor. Three rifles, two thousand rounds of ammunition, combat knives, machetes, and hatchets.

The sound of breaking glass was heard in every room of the house. It sounded like somebody was throwing bricks through the window, except each sound was followed by the familiar hissing sound of a chemical grenade.

Stephen’s company consisted of a chemical platoon, and he was cross-trained with them often, making him very familiar with the effects of gas.

He reached into his bugout bag and pulled out an M17A2 series biological mask. He donned it, then proceeded to lock and load all three of his rifles.

“If you want me, you’re going to have to come in here and get me,” he screamed at the top of his lungs. The mask made it difficult for them to hear his voice at all, let alone hear what he was saying.

After a couple minutes, a team of soldiers and police came flooding into the house. Each of them had on a state-of-the-art chemical mask, unlike Stephen’s antiquated Vietnam-style protective wear.

He could hear their commands as they came storming through both doors.

“Go, go, go,” the team leaders said with their commanding voices.

“Clear,” each team would say as they searched each room carefully, tactically, and methodically.

It wasn’t until they entered Stephen and Sammie’s bedroom that they were met with fierce gunfire. Stephen shot two of his attackers and received forty-two gunshot wounds to his chest and abdomen. When the
cease fire
was called, the men stared in wonder at the sight. They watched as Stephen took his last breath and tightly gripped the stuffed yellow Minion doll in his left hand. He held it tightly to his bleeding chest, and did so until his arm fell to his side.

Tori is seriously injured and left for dead, but a mysterious woman finds her and nurses her back to health. All the while Tori is fading in and out of consciousness. In the end, Tori discovers that there’s more to her caretaker than meets the eye. Tori must face her own demons and accept the fact that there’s more to humanity than carnage.

After the events of the trilogy, Tori seeks out Stephen Gill and his family to ascertain his absence. Tori finds a Minion doll with the decomposed corpse of Stephen Gill. She takes the doll with her on a journey to discover the truth of his murder and where his wife, Sam, and his daughter, Evan, have disappeared to.

“When government fears the people, there is liberty. When the people fear the government, there is tyranny.”

—Thomas Jefferson

By December 2032, the former United States was now known simply as “America” by the global community. There were no longer states, but regions. America was divided into twelve FEMA regions, where the areas could be better monitored by the federal government and, later, the global government.

These stories of perseverance are set in the time span covering life after the declaration of martial law, also known as the Flip. Very little value is placed on human life. The global community has begun investing its resources into land preservation. To that end, mankind has been deemed an “invasive” species.

Tori Cunningham’s tragic roots can be discovered in the first short story, “Beginnings.” The proceeding four stories cover various situations that Tori found herself involved in following the events of the Tyrant trilogy.

This work of fiction has been expanded from its original content, which only included the first short story, to build on a fan favorite character.

Tori Cunningham is a deeply jaded female heroine that struggles to survive in the new world order, but what makes her dynamic is the way she copes with her inner struggles. Her struggles, both within and without, are my vision of a world where American oath takers have failed their country through the dishonoring of their oaths.

Belleville, Illinois, December 1, 2032

Tori didn’t know that her house was rapidly burning. She, her husband, and their two daughters were struggling to survive.

Just moments earlier, a group of men had approached their home and demanded their food and their weapons, or else they would kill them.

Tori’s husband, Richard, was a devout Catholic and believed deeply in his faith. He had only minimally prepared for the eventualities that were to befall the people of the United States. He had purchased several hundred cans of goods and stored them in the basement of their home; however, when the attack came, they were blocked off from the staircase that led to their basement door. A Molotov cocktail had been thrown through the front room window, which was only partially boarded. The bottle broke against the wall that divided the kitchen from the basement stairs. The fire erupted with a ferocity that could only be explained as a small explosion. Other Molotov cocktails came flying into the house and completely engulfed the downstairs area.

Grabbing his youngest daughter’s hand, he pulled her in his direction toward the staircase that led upstairs.

Tori was cut off from the rest of the family, on the kitchen side of the fire.

Richard couldn’t see her anymore and was yelling for her.

“Tori!”

“Richard, I’m here.”

“I have Charity. Go find Amelia.”

Tori scrambled through the dining room area and searched intently for her oldest daughter, Amelia.

“Amelia!” Tori screamed over and over again. All she could hear was the crackling sounds of burning furniture and décor. The smoke had filled the kitchen and dining room area to the point she could barely breathe. She was deeply inhaling smoke and coughing as she went.

“Richard! I can’t find …”

Tori’s lungs were filling with smoke as she attempted to complete a sentence. She was trying to scream for Richard, but every time she took in a deep breath to yell, she inhaled the deadly smoke, and she was starting to asphyxiate.

Self-preservation usually worked for people with no children, but parents oftentimes put the well-being of their children at the forefront of every circumstance. In this case, Tori continued to look for Amelia. She could no longer speak and the smoke was lifting up the staircase, where her daughter Charity and her husband, Richard, had fled.

Tori fell to the floor as she felt her knees give way. The oxygen in her blood was low, and her heart had nothing left to circulate to her muscles. Her tunnel vision was narrowing as she began hearing the sounds of gunshots coming from outside.

There was a loud crash that came from the window over her kitchen stove.

Tori was lifted off the floor, and that was the last thing she remembered before completely losing consciousness.

December 2

Tony, Rob, and Albert were at Tori’s bedside when she regained consciousness. They had seen the flames from their residence just a few blocks up the road.

They were members of a small prepper group located in the downtown Belleville area.

Tony was the founder of the group and generally frowned upon excursions outside of their bunker-style storefront.

For years, Tony had been stockpiling food and supplies. He was the type of man the community would have considered paranoid before the Flip. After the Flip, he was the man that everybody else wished they would’ve listened to.

Tony owned the storefront and had spent the last several years conjoining the basements into one large bunker. The buildings themselves were just a ruse. His survivability came from the underside of those real estate purchases.

Rob and Albert were associates of Tori’s husband, Richard, and knew her from family days.

“Amelia!” Tori screamed as she opened her eyes and tried to sit up.

“Lie back down,” Albert said to her. “You’re not well enough to leave yet.”

“I need to find Amelia. Richard, dear Lord, where’s Richard?” Tori yelled.

“Tori,” Rob said to get her attention, “Richard and your children …”

Rob had barely uttered the words before Tori started to break down.

“Where’s my babies?” she cried.

“Tori, listen to me,” Rob said. “They didn’t make it out of the fire.”

Tori pushed Rob away and stood up off the couch they had her resting on.

“I can’t stay here,” she cried as she began to cough.

“Tori, you’re not well enough to leave,” Tony told her. “Stay here and rest a while. You’ve been through so much already.”

Tori was coughing so hard that she was losing consciousness again.

She sat back down on the couch, and Albert handed her a glass of water.

“Here, drink this sparingly,” he said. “There’s not a wealth of drinkable water anymore.”

Tony was standing in the doorway of the food storage pantry.

“Albert, Rob, can I talk to you guys, alone?”

Albert and Rob stood up and walked over to where Tony was standing. He led them into the back room.

“Guys, we can’t keep her here. We prepped enough for three to last five years. We have nothing beyond that, and now there’s her,” he said.

Albert and Rob were looking at Tony with concern.

It was Albert that spoke up first.

“Can’t we at least give her a couple weeks?”

“A couple weeks? NO! A couple days, yes.”

Both Albert and Rob were frustrated, but they agreed to two days and then she was out.

“Don’t bother!” Tori said as she stepped out from around the corner, where she was eavesdropping on the men.

“I don’t want to stay here anyway. I have a family to locate and, apparently, bury,” she said.

All three men were frustrated that she had overheard what was said, but Albert and Rob were frustrated the most at what Tony had said. They knew Tori from before the Flip and weren’t about to let her take off unprepped.

“Tori, wait a minute,” Albert said. “Take this. It ain’t much, but it’s something.”

Albert handed her a shiny 1911.

“Thank you, Albert.”

She took the pistol and tucked it into the front of her pants, inside the waistline.

She wiped her eyes and licked her lips. She could taste soot and grit from the fire. It was all still very fresh in her mind.

“Thank you, for everything. I would have died in that fire if you boys hadn’t been there to help.”

“We just wish we could have been there a little earlier to save the rest of you,” Rob said.

“Who was it?” Tori asked.

The guys just looked at her as if not knowing what her question was.

“Who was the group that killed my husband and daughters?”

“They don’t have a name, Tori. They just take what they want, and the only reason we were able to help was because they didn’t know how many of us there actually were. Had they known, we probably would be dead, too,” Tony said.

Tori turned to walk away.

“Tori,” Rob said to get her attention.

Tori turned back around.

“Yeah?”

“Look for Kyle.”

“Kyle?”

“Yeah, he’s one of the punks that was involved. He’s a squealer, too. He’ll tell you what you want to know if you know where to properly apply the pressure.”

“Thanks again,” Tori said as she turned to walk away.

When Tori stepped outside, she was instantly met with despair over the loss of her husband and children. She had some unresolved issues, and the only way to get any closure was to find the bodies of her family and give them a proper burial.

Tori began her trek down the street. It was midday and she was warily walking in the direction of the remnants of her home. The closer she came to it, the more her anxiety rose. She walked down the sidewalks, watching every building and studying every window to make sure she wasn’t being watched. Every once in a while, she would see a shutter move. Each time, it would give her goose bumps. It wasn’t long before she was hearing voices coming from the rural areas of town.

Groups of men
, she thought to herself.

She paused and listened.

Tori heard three separate men. The voices were close. Just a few feet away and around the corner of a building.

Tori crept slowly towards the edge of the building and reached into her waistband, pulling out her 1911.

Tori had a tight grip on the pistol, not unlike the way she had gripped one during the Jihadist Wars. With her shoulder now tight against the wall, she prepared to ambush the men. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then stepped out into their line of sight.

“Don’t move, boys,” she said to the men as they stood, clearly surprised.

Tori had one pistol in her possession. There were three men standing at the side of the building. She would point at one man for a couple seconds then turn her aim toward another. She kept it so random that they were afraid to make a move.

“I’m looking for a guy named Kyle; you know him?”

“No, ma’am, we don’t know no Kyle
,
” one of the men said.

Tori pointed the gun back at the man that answered.

“You can speak for all three of you?”

They all answered similarly.

“We don’t know Kyle.”

“Don’t you move, or I’ll blow your head off,” Tori warned them as she walked away from them with her pistol aiming high.

When the men were enough of a distance away, she put her pistol back into her waistband and looked forward, but not without looking back over her shoulder on multiple occasions.

Tori could smell the cinders of burnt wood. She was just a block away from her home when she began crying again. She stopped walking and collected herself. She stood up straight, pulled her shoulders back, and walked onto the block her house used to be on.

Approaching her house, she could barely recognize what she was seeing. There was no upstairs or downstairs, just a ground level of nothing but steel pipes and porcelain and other debris that wouldn’t burn.

She walked over to where the staircase used to be and to the spot where the upstairs bedroom would have been located directly above. The brass bedframe was lying in a pile of debris. There was no mattress, but there was a box spring over to the side.

Tori turned it over, hoping to find them.

Nothing.

Tori walked to the spot where the bedroom closet would have been above her and saw lots of black, unrecognizable debris. She kneeled down and started moving the black debris around. Caked under this debris were the burnt bodies of Richard and Charity. He was lying in a fetal position with Charity’s body curled up within his own. They were posed as if Richard was trying to shield his daughter from death.

Tori began to cry.

As a mother, living with children after the Flip was a difficult thing. Losing loved ones in any type of scenario was a difficult thing. What Tori was experiencing was more than most women could endure. She had lost her entire family in a murderous act of barbarism perpetrated by a group of people she did not know.

She stood up and wiped her nose and eyes with the back of her forearm. She still did not know where Amelia was. She spent the next two hours scouring through the debris and fruitlessly searching for the body of her oldest daughter.

When she realized she was not going to find her, she stood up and caught her breath. She looked around the area and saw a child-sized red wagon. She had an idea to use it to haul the bodies of Richard and Charity to a burial location.

After fetching the wagon, the task of moving the two bodies of her loved ones had to happen. She was not looking forward to disturbing their remains, but she knew it had to be done if she was to receive full closure.

She gently brushed the debris off their bodies and pried them off the floor. The fire had melded them to the floor and some other unknown debris.

Tori was having a difficult time and would randomly break into hysteria. Each time she attempted to move them, there would be sounds caused by the separation of their bodies from the materials they were melded to.

After the difficult task of cleaning them off was complete, she lifted them into the wagon.

Tori found that they were surprisingly light, but felt it only made sense because their original body composition was nothing like what she was moving.

She pulled them to the backyard, where she found a nice spot. She walked into an old woodshed and found a shovel. She spent the next few hours digging the graves of Richard and Charity Cunningham.

December 3

Tori spent the night lying on the ground between the two graves. Her thoughts were of vengeance and also despair.

How can I carry on from here? Where do I go? Where can I find Kyle? And would it be wise to pursue him?
she asked herself all night long.

“I’m not going to be a victim,” she said out loud to herself.

Not knowing the hour of the night or when the sun would begin its ascent over the horizon, she stood up. Tori broke into the back door of a neighbor’s house and spent the rest of the night on a couch.

When the sun had peeked across the roof of a neighboring house, the sunlight hit her face. She rose up quickly, as if on a mission, and rummaged through everything, looking for weapons. The kitchen drawers had already been emptied, but she found a folding Swiss Army knife in one of the bedrooms. Tori placed it into her pocket and went into the next house.

She completed this process, systematically breaking into the back doors of the houses within the neighborhood, with her pistol drawn. When Tori had busted into the fourth house, there was a man with a gun, and he was pointing it straight at her.

“There’s nothing for you here, little lady,” the man said.

Tori had her pistol out, too.

“Is this what they call a Mexican standoff?” Tori asked.

“I think so,” the man replied. “Why are you in my home?”

“I’m in search of weapons. I’m also looking for a man named Kyle from this area. You know him?”

“I know
of
him.”

“Where can I find him?”

“He’s a block down the road. How do you know him?”

“I don’t,” Tori said as she looked the stranger up and down. “He has information I need on the murder of my husband and daughters.”