The night the Rhymer went whack
Chapter 37

37

The natives were adept at exploiting the desires of the troops. They’d strategically supply them with prostitutes and alcohol then gain valuable information, keys, weapons and supplies that they would ultimately use to enact their plan.

Getting to South Africa was virtually impossible. Having had been there just a few days prior finalizing the plans, Straffe also feared the U.S. Military, not knowing if and when they’d retaliate. He also didn’t expect the U.S. to descend into this level of anarchy so quickly, but he knew he had to get to South Africa. How, rattled his brain knowing that flights had been cancelled indefinitely regardless to the fact that no one wanted to be in the skies under these tumultuous conditions. The world was collapsing, yet by this time tomorrow, he had to be in Pretoria.

***

“End this now! Bomb the shit out of them and end this now!” Spewed the U.S. President as his military advisors were warning him against any retaliatory military attacks. The nineteen nations had been strategic enough that any overt action precipitated by the U.S. would suffer dire retaliation and that retribution along with the economic situation could be an insurmountable blow to America’s status as the world’s premiere super power. Knowing this, the United States government decided against any strikes, but their warships and bases stayed on high alert. All while knowing that within weeks, because of the economic collapse and the disruption in trade, their forces could soon run out of supplies. Something had to give. They needed Diablets.

It first began in Saudi Arabia, a member of the nineteen and an ally of the U.S. The king was one of the first to receive a call from the American President, and when strong arm threats were deemed ineffective, the U.S. President began pleading with the king to provide a load of Diablets to help the U.S. out of this mess. Or at the least, just enough to support the military the American President requested, but the king’s kinship was with the other eighteen and he was steadfast with his refusal.

When word of this repudiation reached the warships and bases, that pleading was on the table, that too became their tactic as they too began fearing the inevitability of having no supplies. To get some Diablets was the goal, but at what price? The nineteen were expecting this, hoping for it actually, and were well prepared. Yes, they’d barter them with supplies, but no Diablets, which fed perfectly in their ultimate goal of disarming the U.S. Military. They wanted war material, primarily the nuclear warheads.

“Out of the damn question,” barked the president as soon as he found out about their request. He paced, continuing to listen to his advisors, but he was furious and his pride couldn’t let go of the idea that he was the leader of the world. against all rationale, he finally ordered a strike. A direct hit to the most troublesome nations: .

Expecting this, they were all prepared and had relocated their military arsenals. When the sirens sounded and the missiles were on their way, they actually rejoiced. “We got ’em!” was the resounding outcry from the nineteen leaders knowing that America was playing into their hands and also, desperate. As planned, the counter-attacks quickly followed. Two U.S. warships were immediately destroyed and as the American bases suffered under a constant barrage of brutal attacks, the U.S. President stopped the aggression. The damage was done. The carnage, destruction, death and chaos was expected from the nineteen and actually nothing that they’ve never experienced before, but to the Americans, the results were devastating.

The first contact came from the USS Eisenhower. Amidst the screaming, the yelling, the chaos, and lastly the silence following the torpedoes’ direct hit on his fellow ships, the commander turned off his radio, no longer willing to listen to the destruction anymore. He excused himself solemnly, then strolled along the deck alone in silence. And with his mind decided, he ordered all of his men on deck, informing them that they would be docking at the nearest port.

“Are we surrendering sir,” was questioned.

“No,” he sternly replied, “the U.S. Navy will never surrender.” A short while later as his ship weaved through the Mediterranean Sea, he sought and received contact with the Saudi king minutes before arriving on the Arabian shore where they agreed to meet. With no body guards or fellow sailors, the commander solely disembarked and met the king who likewise was alone, along the shore where they strode and spoke covertly.

“Are you sure?” the king questioned, turning and facing him eye to eye.

“Yessir,” the commander replied with confidence.

The king then raised his hand and ten of the king’s guards marched up, each holding two briefcases. When the first one approached, he opened it right in front so the commander could see. “One hundred million U.S. dollars’ worth of Diablets,” explained the king before continuing. “Now bring me what I want,” an instruction levied firmly toward the commander as he turned and boarded his ship, prepared to order his crew to strip all nuclear warheads and airplanes.

This scene played out in many other countries as the commanders and crew began doing what they felt was necessary for their immediate survival. They knew they were in hostile territory, they knew that the U.S. issued airstrikes and they knew they had resources on their vessels, just like the Eisenhower. But just as the commanders initiated trades, so did lower level crew hands. They too began hoarding guns and ammunitions, sneaking off in the middle of the night and selling their goods for their own personal gains with the hope of making it back to America, a seemingly impossible task, but they had knowledge of the destruction taking place and were homesick, longing to reunite with their loved ones.

So while the sailors were plotting to get back to the U.S. mainland, Straffe was simultaneously making his preparations to leave it. When the Diablet was printed, each country received a specific amount along with each leader receiving a small stipend. This divide included Straffe, compensation for his important role in the operation. These stipends were to be kept on them in case of an emergency, and to Straffe, this was an emergency.

He had two suitcases filled with the new money, ten million dollars’ worth, but how could he use this money to get an airplane to fly him to Europe and ultimately Africa? He knew he couldn’t just reveal his clandestine assets, for then his involvement in the uprising would be compromised, but he needed to get out of the country. The Mexican and Canadian borders were off limit, too much action as they too were steadfast in their alliance with the coalition, so with no time to waste, he again looked out of his window and observed the uproar of the city and in just a brief time, he eyed six murders, countless muggings and every store that he could view had been looted into emptiness.

The police, sworn to protect, had become complicit in the anarchy. Already armed, they used their weapons at will, pistol whipping, shooting and robbing. When Straffe witnessed a young lady being brutally beaten by one of these officers, he had had enough. He tore away from the window and retrieved his shotgun. Returning, he cracked it open and aimed. About to fire, a figure out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He hesitated, soon realizing that it was the Armed Forces arriving. Relieved, he dropped his weapon. He looked further, spotting a contingent of Humvees and patrol vehicles taking over the streets along with dozens of soldiers geared up and ready for action. They too had witnessed what had taken place with the officer and the lady as their approach caught the cop off guard.

He turned toward the soldier, instinctively raised his weapon then was shot dead by a barrage of bullets. But just as fast, the young woman was heartlessly dragged away out of Straffe’s view by the murderous soldiers. Confused, he kept looking around at the army’s presence and soon realized that they weren’t there to protect the innocent. They continued the assaults that the officers began and soon there was an all-out battle right there on Wall Street. Police vs. Army. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He re-clutched his shotgun in disbelief as he now sat with his back against the wall. Anarchy, full-blown mayhem just blocks from the New York Stock Exchange. He was furious, turning away but still hearing the whizzing bullets and screams of destruction. As his bloodless fingers tightly gripped his shotgun, he wanted to run outside, guns blazing and destroy what he was a part of creating but the ending of the movie Scarface popped into his mind, giving him a moment of clarity. So, he nixed that idea and re-focused on what he really needed to do. And that’s when it hit him. Needing to get to South Africa and with air travel completely shut down, he saw his escape right in front of his eyes. He turned and looked out his window again and watched the carnage. He watched the soldiers on foot and the actions of the Humvees. For hours he watched their every move, studying the scene then found who he was looking for. Honing in, he grabbed just two pistols, some ammunition but more importantly, his money belt now stuffed with Diablets.

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