Read Online Forgotten Forbidden America:: Patriots Reborn by Thomas A Watson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thomas A Watson
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the other men were wearing suits, and the last was dressed in a polo shirt and khaki pants. “Is that a weapon on your hip?” the deputy demanded, jabbing his finger in the air at Nelson.
“Yep,” Nelson said with a grin.
As the deputy’s hand dropped to his gun belt, Matt and Gerald stepped around the trailer. “Don’t be rude, boy,” Gerald said, aiming his rifle at the group with Matt beside him.
“Hey, deputy, you have green shit on your chest,” Nelson chuckled. The deputy looked down to see a green laser dot. The deputy looked up as his face went white, and he started trembling. “Just to let you know, on the other end of that laser is a fifty cal. If they pull the trigger, you will only be a mist.”
“We are with the government,” a bald man that stepped out of the back snapped at Nelson.
“Well howdy,” Nelson grinned. “Had some problems around here, so we aren’t trusting of just anyone. Call me crazy, but government is at the bottom of our list—right below pedophiles.”
The bald man stepped beside the deputy. “I’m Agent Palmer with Homeland Security. We are here with the postmaster for the area conducting a survey of who we need to transport out.”
A man with thinning, gray hair nodded. “May I have your name, sir? Our records indicate only Bernard and Nellie Parker live at the address at the end of the road. They have no children, so who are you?”
“I’m shy,” Nelson said with a smile. “I don’t give out my name on the first date.”
“You do realize we have already reported our location,” Agent Palmer snapped. “You can’t hurt us.”
“No, you tried, but for some reason, your radio wouldn’t reach out, and your cellphones didn’t work,” Nelson laughed as Gerald moved up beside him.
Gerald was looking at the last man, who was dressed like a contractor. He was about thirty and lean. His blonde hair was buzz cut, and he had a very chiseled jaw. “And who might you be, blondie?”
“That is Agent Stonavitch with Homeland,” Agent Palmer said.
“A fuckin’ ruskie,” Gerald growled.
“He’s a citizen of the United States, sir,” Agent Palmer said. “Is it true you gave weapons, ammunition, and food to your neighbors?” he asked, looking down at a small notebook. “A Hank Gilmore.”
Gerald nodded as Agent Palmer stepped closer. “Seemed like the thing to do.” Hearing a straining noise, Gerald turned to look at Nelson. Gerald stepped back, seeing Nelson straining so hard his face was turning purple, and veins were standing out on his forehead. “Dude, are you trying to take a dump in your pants? If you need to shit, go into the woods; we got this.”
Letting out a gasp, Nelson smiled as he gulped in air, and his face started returning to its natural color. Nelson moved over to Agent Palmer and waved his hand in front of Palmer’s face as he said, “These are not the droids you’re looking for.”
“Huh?” Agent Palmer said, furrowing his brow.
“Goddamn it!” Nelson shouted, hitting Agent Palmer in the throat and faking a punch at Agent Stonavitch. Stonavitch raised his hand to block the punch, but Nelson’s foot connected with his groin. Stonavitch rose over a foot off the ground and was puking in the air as pain from his crushed testicles radiated out to his body.
The deputy and the postman raised their hands when Gerald and Matt aimed their weapons at their faces, but Nelson didn’t care. Yanking his pistol out, Nelson cracked the deputy in the temple, dropping him to the dirt. Stepping over to the postman, who was whimpering, Nelson clocked him with an uppercut that knocked him several feet back. The postman landed unconscious on the ground.
“Motherfucker,” Nelson said, spreading his legs to stand over Agent Palmer, who was struggling to breathe. Dropping on Palmer’s chest, Nelson started pistol whipping the shit out of him, stressing his words with each hit. “You—are—supposed—to say—‘These—aren’t—the
“Yep,” Nelson said with a grin.
As the deputy’s hand dropped to his gun belt, Matt and Gerald stepped around the trailer. “Don’t be rude, boy,” Gerald said, aiming his rifle at the group with Matt beside him.
“Hey, deputy, you have green shit on your chest,” Nelson chuckled. The deputy looked down to see a green laser dot. The deputy looked up as his face went white, and he started trembling. “Just to let you know, on the other end of that laser is a fifty cal. If they pull the trigger, you will only be a mist.”
“We are with the government,” a bald man that stepped out of the back snapped at Nelson.
“Well howdy,” Nelson grinned. “Had some problems around here, so we aren’t trusting of just anyone. Call me crazy, but government is at the bottom of our list—right below pedophiles.”
The bald man stepped beside the deputy. “I’m Agent Palmer with Homeland Security. We are here with the postmaster for the area conducting a survey of who we need to transport out.”
A man with thinning, gray hair nodded. “May I have your name, sir? Our records indicate only Bernard and Nellie Parker live at the address at the end of the road. They have no children, so who are you?”
“I’m shy,” Nelson said with a smile. “I don’t give out my name on the first date.”
“You do realize we have already reported our location,” Agent Palmer snapped. “You can’t hurt us.”
“No, you tried, but for some reason, your radio wouldn’t reach out, and your cellphones didn’t work,” Nelson laughed as Gerald moved up beside him.
Gerald was looking at the last man, who was dressed like a contractor. He was about thirty and lean. His blonde hair was buzz cut, and he had a very chiseled jaw. “And who might you be, blondie?”
“That is Agent Stonavitch with Homeland,” Agent Palmer said.
“A fuckin’ ruskie,” Gerald growled.
“He’s a citizen of the United States, sir,” Agent Palmer said. “Is it true you gave weapons, ammunition, and food to your neighbors?” he asked, looking down at a small notebook. “A Hank Gilmore.”
Gerald nodded as Agent Palmer stepped closer. “Seemed like the thing to do.” Hearing a straining noise, Gerald turned to look at Nelson. Gerald stepped back, seeing Nelson straining so hard his face was turning purple, and veins were standing out on his forehead. “Dude, are you trying to take a dump in your pants? If you need to shit, go into the woods; we got this.”
Letting out a gasp, Nelson smiled as he gulped in air, and his face started returning to its natural color. Nelson moved over to Agent Palmer and waved his hand in front of Palmer’s face as he said, “These are not the droids you’re looking for.”
“Huh?” Agent Palmer said, furrowing his brow.
“Goddamn it!” Nelson shouted, hitting Agent Palmer in the throat and faking a punch at Agent Stonavitch. Stonavitch raised his hand to block the punch, but Nelson’s foot connected with his groin. Stonavitch rose over a foot off the ground and was puking in the air as pain from his crushed testicles radiated out to his body.
The deputy and the postman raised their hands when Gerald and Matt aimed their weapons at their faces, but Nelson didn’t care. Yanking his pistol out, Nelson cracked the deputy in the temple, dropping him to the dirt. Stepping over to the postman, who was whimpering, Nelson clocked him with an uppercut that knocked him several feet back. The postman landed unconscious on the ground.
“Motherfucker,” Nelson said, spreading his legs to stand over Agent Palmer, who was struggling to breathe. Dropping on Palmer’s chest, Nelson started pistol whipping the shit out of him, stressing his words with each hit. “You—are—supposed—to say—‘These—aren’t—the
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