Read Online Liberty's Last Stand by Stephen Coonts - Free Book Online

cell phone. That’s why they didn’t confiscate the things.”
    Jack Yocke sat with his cell phone in hand watching the shadows lengthen. Finally he put the device on the ground, took off his shoe, and pounded on it with the heel until the glass screen broke. Then he threw it over the fence.
    After a while Yocke calmed down. “So when do you think we’ll get out of here?”
    Grafton snorted. “They didn’t let me pack my crystal ball.”
    â€œA few days, months, years?”
    When Grafton remained silent, Yocke decided to answer his own question. If you are going to make your living writing newspaper columns, you must have opinions, on everything. Yocke did. Almost every living human had opinions, but no one wanted to hear them. People paid to read Yocke’s because his were better thought out and expressed. “People are upset and angry right now, but few if any are willing to risk everything they own, everything they have, even their lives, to oppose Soetoro and the federal government. That will change over time. Government oppression in the short run pisses people off. In the long run it transforms them into revolutionaries.”
    â€œConquer or die,” Grafton mused. “Too bad you weren’t there at the White House when the aides discussed how to keep Soetoro in office for life.”
    Yocke wanted to talk. Like most writers, his head buzzed with words. Sooner or later he had to spew them out so that he could have room to think about something else. “Being a revolutionary is very romantic,” he said. “It isn’t for everyone. The hours are brutal, you can get seriously hurt or dead, even if you win you’ll be a pauper, and you’ll probably wind up unhappy with whoever emerges from the chaos as the head dog. Sooner or later the optimistic revolutionary becomes the disillusioned veteran. If he is still above ground.”
    â€œWas this your column that won’t get printed?”
    â€œYeah. Good solid stuff.”
    â€œSo, Jack, are you willing to kiss your pension, 401(k), Mazda sports car, and Washington condo good-bye and sign on for the voyage? Are you ready to pledge your life, your fortune, and your sacred honor?”
    â€œNot yet, Admiral. I’m working up to it. Soetoro is dragging me to it by the hair. He’s dragging a whole lot of people there. If Soetoro doesn’t stop this shit pretty soon, there is going to be a major explosion.”
    â€œHe thinks not.”
    â€œBarry Soetoro is a damn fool. President of the United States, and he doesn’t know Americans.”

    On Thursday, the twenty-fifth of August, Jack Hays and his wife, Nadine, rode a helicopter from Austin to Sanderson, Texas, where a funeral home had Joe Bob Hays laid out. JR and his brother, Fred, and Fred’s wife and eldest son were there. The grandson was only four. JR had been divorced for the past ten years. His ex-wife had custody oftheir children. The wife had had an affair while her husband was in Afghanistan, and divorce followed. She didn’t remarry. The kids were teenagers now and knew everything about everything. JR wrote them a note about their grandfather and mailed it, and that would have to do.
    The sheriff, Manuel Tejada, was there with some of his deputies in uniform. One of them, a man with bright, garish yellow and green tattoos that started at both wrists and ran up his forearms, took the time to shake JR’s hand and tell him how sorry he was. “Knew your dad,” he said. “Good man.” His name was Romero, according to the silver name tag he wore over his left shirt pocket.
    The sheriff, his deputies, the mayor and county commissioners lined up to shake hands with Governor Jack Hays. Funerals aren’t normally places to talk politics, but they were very worried about terrorism and martial law and asked Hays what it meant.
    â€œWashington hasn’t said much. We’ll know more soon,”