Resistance: A Prepper's War by BJ Knights

wheel. The buildings around her were thinning out the further north she drove. What was once a bustling metropolis area soon turned into rural farms and a few factory warehouses. She checked the GPS and saw she was only ten minutes out. She reached for her phone and dialed Jim’s number per his instructions.
     
    “Hey,” he answered.
     
    “I’m almost there,” she responded as she tried to sound confident.
     
    Jim was tucked into the back of a surveillance van with Twink and Coyle. He was a half a mile from the location, but he had Brett there on the ground in case anything happened.
     
    “I just spoke with Brett. He’s already there, so you just go in and get as much info as you can. Don’t press it though. You don’t want to act like you’re trying too hard,” Jim said.
     
    “I know,” she said. “Jim, about Matt’s funeral,” she started, but Jim cut her off.
     
    “We can talk about it after we finish this.” It wasn’t that Jim didn’t want to talk about it. He just understood what needed to be done now, and he couldn’t have her getting soft right before facing these people.
     
    “Okay,” she said as she let out a breath and she tried to get into character. She hung up the phone and slid it into her cup holder. She kept both hands on the wheel as she breathed in through her nose and slowly out through her mouth.
     
    Jim slid the phone back into his cargo pant pocket. He reached up to his radio piece and clicked on the receiver. “Brett,” Jim said.
     
    Brett was lying down in a tall patch of grass on the edge of the building where he had an eye on two of the guards outside the front door. “Copy, Jim,” he whispered.
     
    “She’s ten minutes out,” Jim said.
     
    Brett shifted the scope on his rifle to check the other end of the building. “Roger that,” he said and then made sure to click the radio off. “Next time I’ll sit in the van and someone else can lie perfectly still for over three hours. God I have to pee,” he whispered to himself.
     
    Back at the base Locke’s unit was busy researching all facets of Chase Brenner’s corporations, materials, taxes, anything they could get their hands on.
 
    Kate was lying on her back on the cot in her cell. The lumps in the mattress caused her body to elevate and sink in random places. Her dirty, gray jump suit hadn’t been changed in over a week and the cuts on her face were still fresh. Her left blood shot eye roamed the concrete ceiling. The dim florescent light flickered above her as she lightly drummed her fingers on her stomach.
     
    A soldier leaned back in his chair as he occasionally glanced at the monitors streaming live video of the prisoners cell block and then went back to his hunting magazine. He thumbed through the pages when out of the corner of his eye he saw the first screen go dark, then the second, third, and then the other six. He jumped out of his chair and reached for his radio.
     
    Kate had her eyes closed when she heard the click of her cell unlock and then saw the door cracked open. Her eyes popped open and a smile ran across her face as a knife slid through the opening.
     
    Locke was at his desk when he heard the first shots fired down the hall in the cell block. He reached for his pistol in this desk and clicked the safety off. He crouched below the windows of his office and peaked over the top and saw a few MPs rush through the door and make a stand behind a few desks they flipped over.
     
    Gunshots were blasting in both directions as Locke saw the door to his office crack open. He saw a pistol creep through the small opening and then as the door opened wider he saw the toe of a boot, leg, and then…
     
    “Chris,” Locke whispered in relief. Locke’s assistant crouched down to make sure he was okay.
     
    “I’m fine,” Locke shouted over the gunfire behind him.
     
    “General, I need to get you out of here!” Chris shouted.
     
    Locke shook his head. “No!” he shouted. “Get on