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  Each one filled quickly with the reasonable rental rates he was charging, since space heating, cooking, and hot water were wood fired. The income from one financed the next. Jimmy moved some of his caches to the basements as they were completed, but still kept a few of the rental storage units as caches.

  2015 saw the implementation of full scale ID chip implants. More and more services required the chip to be in place before service was rendered; including medical care; welfare type benefits; Social Security benefits; buying a vehicle, property, or firearms, and several other services. By 2020 the chip would be required to buy groceries.

  Jimmy decided to wait until he had to have it before he got the implant. There were penalties, but they wouldn’t be severe until 2020.

  The luxury tax was passed. Like the AWB, it was much more comprehensive than the previous tax. Unlike the AWB, there was a grandfather clause. Anything that came under the law, made after 2010, was subject to back taxes. That included SUV’s. Jimmy’s custom Suburban was exempt due to the frame manufacture date of 2008. Anything purchased after January 1st, 2015, no matter what manufacture date, was subject to the tax.

  Tobacco in all its forms came under the luxury tax, running the price up to $250 a carton for the generics. A total ban would become effective in 2020.

  Just before the 2016 elections the Rainbow Currency Equalization Act was passed by a narrow margin. All currency, including bank accounts, held by individuals or corporations, had to be turned in for issuance of new currency.

  The issue of new currency was on a sliding scale. The more you had, the lower the rate of exchange. The range was from a ten for one exchange for those with under $10,000 in assets, to a one for ten exchange for those with over $5,000,000 in assets. Those with assets between $50,000 and $100,000 were exchanged at one for one.

  Having seen the handwriting on the wall, Jimmy had been spending as he made it. He had less than eight thousand in dollars, including his bank accounts, when the exchange took place. He wound up with eighty thousand of the new dollars. Unfortunately, they quickly became worth little more than the original eight thousand.

  But the euphoria of the ‘disadvantaged’ carried the Democrats to another Presidential term, and maintained their majority control of both houses of Congress in the 2016 elections. The huge losses of the upper classes were largely ignored. Even some large corporations had to shut their doors for lack of operating funds.

  Almost all the troops overseas had been brought home and mustered out. The US forces were at a fifty-year low.

  Handguns were banned in 2017, except for on duty active duty law enforcement, active duty military, and special permit holders. Standard concealed weapons permits didn’t qualify.

  Things might have gone differently had the ban not been applied to off duty and retired police officers, and veterans. They were the first to revolt and begin to fight the attempts of confiscation. Many police, subject to the ban when off duty, refused to turn in their private weapons. They were arrested by the new BATFEPM (Bureau of alcohol, tobacco, firearms, explosives, and precious metals.).

  Thousands of officers across the nation quit their forces and began an active resistance campaign. When it became obvious to the White House and Congress that the ban was not going well, additional teams of BATFEPM agents were organized with very liberal engagement rules. Gun battles erupted all across the nation as gun owners fought the confiscation.

  Congress hurriedly extended the ban to all firearms in an attempt to control the rebellion. It only made it worse. There was open warfare whenever a BATFEPM team entered an area. The military and police forces had been the first be chipped. Those not actively supporting the ban became subject to restrictions on purchasing food and fuel.

  There was a huge outcry, but it made no difference. The administration was determined to disarm the American population. More BATFEPM teams were hired and trained. During the first stages of the rebellion, Jimmy kept a low profile. Lower than normal. He debated what he was going to do. He made preparations. Things would have been simpler if he’d just turned in the Colt and permit. It just galled him when he thought about doing it.

  The Jack Boots seemed to prefer striking at home, in the early evening hours. They didn’t like witnesses, Jimmy decided. Media had learned their lesson the hard way. They didn’t even try to cover gun confiscations. From the information he had been able to gather, the little guys were Jack Boots’ week day duties. The big timers got hit on Saturday nights.

  Jimmy got into the habit of being elsewhere during those times of day during the week days. Just sort of hanging out, unobtrusively, where he could keep an eye on the front doors of the apartment building, and the street outside. Twice he saw the Jack Boots park outside and enter the building. They had gone to using nondescript vehicles to avoid ambushes, but Jimmy could spot them easily. He made himself scarce each time.

  Both times the BATFEPM agents called in the coroner. The suspects had been killed resisting arrest. The third time it happened and Jimmy was on his way back, he immediately noticed that the feds were still around. Apparently the suspect wasn’t home. That meant it could be Jimmy that they were after.

  He decided on the spur of the moment to make a stand. If they wanted his gun, they would have to kill him. Which was likely. The BATFEPM had some of the best weapons around. The same couldn’t be said of the people. The agency was trolling the bottom of the barrel to get agents.

  Using his skills as a sniper in MOUT conditions, Jimmy sneaked up on the Ryder van the BATFEPM was using. Two officers were inside. One in the cab, one in the back, with the door open a fraction. Red light was visible through the slight opening when Jimmy took a quick look. What he saw cemented his decision. He pulled a black balaclava from his rear pocket and slipped it on, then did the same with thin leather gloves from his other back pocket.

  He closed the partially open door and flipped the locking mechanism in place. It was a few seconds, but then holes began to appear in the doors as the officer inside opened up with a full auto weapon of some sort.

  Jimmy was already at the cab of the truck, his Colt in hand. “This is a hijack.” The officer tried to draw his sidearm and Jimmy shot him in the forehead, through the open window, killing him instantly. Jimmy opened the cab door and dragged the dead man out, and climbed in. He started the engine and drove off as the rest of the BATFEPM team came storming out of the apartment building.

  More fire was coming from the inside of the box and the team opened fire. The firing from inside stopped. Jimmy knew his way around the area very well. He made several turns and was then on a side street. There was a building under construction, though stopped now, with two cargo trucks there, though they were not Ryder’s. Jimmy pulled alongside the other two trucks and hopped out of the cab. It was very dark where he was. After a few moments of letting his eyes adjust, Jimmy went around to the back of the truck.

  There was blood dripping from a series of bullet holes right around the point where the locking bar was. Colt in hand, Jimmy opened the door slightly. The officer inside lay dead right at the doors. Though his armor had stopped many rounds that his fellow officers had fired, the three that found his head had been more than enough to kill him.

  Jimmy avoided the blood as he climbed into the box van. Working quickly, Jimmy removed the things he wanted from the truck and took them to the partially completed building. He hid everything under some of the construction materials. He locked the back of the truck again, got back into the cab and moved the truck, using back streets, well away from the construction site.

  After that Jimmy walked to one of his cache points in the city. There he changed out the barrel and slide of the Colt for another set. That done, he got out a sleeping bag and went to bed. When he got up the next morning he put on different clothes, and found a local service station so he could go to the bathroom.

  Hailing a cab, he went to the central police station and turned himself in to the desk sergeant, setting the Colt, the
three magazines, and his permit on the desk. The sergeant started to draw his gun, but Jimmy was already talking.

  “I want to turn this in before the feds kill me,” he said. “They were at my apartment last night and I got scared and…”

  “Hold it! Hold it!” the sergeant said, raising one hand. He moved the Colt out of Jimmy’s reach. “Let me get a detective to talk to you.” When he picked up the permit and saw the name, he did draw his gun. “There is a federal warrant out for you! Says you killed two agents and stole their equipment van, using illegal weapons”

  “What!” Jimmy exclaimed. “That’s the only weapon I have. And I’m turning it in.”

  “Someone else has to sort this out.” The sergeant looked around, leaned a bit closer and whispered, “Look, buddy, I sympathize with you, but you are in big trouble. If you walk out of here right now, I’ll never say a word.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. I want this cleared up. But I sure don’t want to get killed by the BATFEPM.”

  “Hey, Lou!” the sergeant called toward another of the men working the front area of the station. People were beginning to stare. “Get Donahue! We have a live one here.”

  When the detective came out, the sergeant explained what Jimmy had told him. “Have you read him his rights?”

  The sergeant shook his head. “Well, read them to him, and get him in a cell. Suspicion of Murder. I’ll go see what I can find out.”

  Jimmy was booked and taken to a holding cell. A few minutes later Detective Donahue had him moved to interrogation. Jimmy went inside, followed by the detective. “Okay, Slick. What’s your story?”

  “Just what I told the sergeant, Detective,” Jimmy said. “I’m afraid of the Jack Boots. I should have turned in the gun earlier, but I couldn’t find it for a while, and now, with what is happening… I just think it is better to get rid of it.”

  “They’re saying you ambushed them.”

  “How could I ambush them? I only have that Colt and it’s old. They wear armor and there are several of them that come at you all at once. I’ve seen them in my apartment building before. No one in their right mind would ambush them. They can’t have any evidence, since I didn’t do it.”

  Detective Donahue frowned. “I’m not sure that will make them that much difference. One of their own is supposed to be here in a few minutes to pick you up.”

  The door to the interrogation room opened and a man in a dark blue suit entered. “Is he ready to go?” the man asked.

  “Not quite yet,” said Detective Donahue. “We have him under arrest for Murder.”

  “It’s a federal warrant. Do the paperwork. I want him ready in an hour or heads are going to roll. Probably yours. You look the type to carry off duty.”

  Detective Donahue flushed. “I follow the law, like it or not. We’re cleaning up a lot of the messes you BATFEPM guys leave behind. I’m not so sure you guys are following your own rules. This is still America. People have rights.”

  “Not to own a gun. Not anymore. Who is your superior?”

  The detective told the agent.

  “I suggest you start on that paperwork right now, Detective.” He turned and stormed out of the door.

  “I don’t know what I can do for ya’, Slick. Except keep an eye on the case. Good luck.” The detective motioned at the one-way mirror and an officer came in almost immediately. “Get him ready for transfer to the feds.”

  “We have to?” asked the officer.

  “We have to. Whether we like it or not.”

  Jimmy went along quietly. It was not going as well as he hoped. As the BATFEPM agent escorted him out of the station, Jimmy saw Donahue talking to several reporters. They turned and looked at him and the agent.

  None too gently the agent pushed Jimmy into the back seat of the car. There was another agent standing beside it. He held three evidence bags in his hand. One contained the Colt, one the three magazines and the third Jimmy’s CCW permit. Both men got into the car and they headed for the Federal Building.

  Jimmy was taken to another interrogation cell. The first BATFEPM agent was joined by another. “Okay, Smiley,” said the second agent. “I’m Agent Miller. We have your gun, you dope. It’s the same make and model as the one used in the murder of the box van driver and back up agent.”

  Jimmy almost messed up then. He started to tell them that their own men had killed the agent in the back of the box van. He shook his head. “It may be the same make and model, but it wasn’t my gun. I had it on me, planning to take it to the police this morning, but I saw you guys enter the building and I got scared. I didn’t even see the BATFEPM van.”

  “You trying to tell us that you missed seeing a great big yellow Ryder van?”

  “Ryder van? Sure I saw a Ryder van. I thought someone was moving out. Don’t you have your own marked vans? I’ve seen them before.”

  “Never you mind what we use in our work, Smart Guy,” said the first agent, rather sharply.

  “Sorry,” Jimmy muttered, his head going down.

  Another agent, this one female, came into the room and handed a file folder to Agent Miller.

  After looking at it for long moments he handed it to the first agent, and then addressed Jimmy. “Okay, Wise Guy. Says here you were a sniper in the Army. Our driver was shot at close range, right in the forehead. That calls for some skill.”

  “I probably have the skill with a rifle. I doubt it with a pistol, even close up.”

  “Where are the rest of your guns?” the first agent asked. “We searched your apartment and came up empty.”

  “The Colt is the only one I have,” Jimmy replied calmly.

  “Had,” the first agent said. “It is no longer yours.”

  The same female agent came into the room with another file. When Agent Miller looked at it he exclaimed, “What! Are they sure about this? And the serial numbers match?” he asked the female agent.

  She shrugged. “You know they are seldom wrong.”

  “Okay, Ace,” Agent Miller said, “You’ve caught a lucky break. The ballistics don’t match your gun.”

  “I told you that…”

  “Shut up! They may not match, but you’re on our list now. I’d walk the straight and narrow. We’ll be watching. Get him out of my sight.” Agent Miller stormed out.

  Rather joyfully, Jimmy thought, the first agent said, “You just made an enemy. A bad one.”

  “I wasn’t trying…”

  “Shut up.”

  Thirty minutes later Jimmy was out of the federal building, without having been chipped. The Feds assumed that the city police had done it when he was arrested, which was SOP. But the city police hadn’t had him long enough to chip him. His military POW training had taken him through the interrogation processes with flying colors.

  Jimmy went on with life as usual, except for one very quick stop at the abandoned building project one black, rainy, Sunday night to recover the items he’d stashed there. Different items went to different storage rooms around the city.

  Crime rates began to jump drastically in the cities that were supposed to be the showcases of civilian disarmament. Soon the crime statistics were no longer released. Disarmament continued in the cities, but in the rural regions of the US, the BATFEPM losses began to mount to the point they were having trouble getting even bully-boys to work there.

  Jimmy let it be known at work and elsewhere that the arrest had taken a lot out of him and he needed to get away for a while. It was no problem getting a six-month leave of absence from the company where he worked. He went out to the farm and re-familiarized himself with farm life for a few weeks.

  While he was there he found a wrecked long wheel base truck the same year as the bodies of the Suburban. He paid the wrecking yard to build a trailer out of it. The same company that made the fuel tanks for the Suburban, made four fuel tanks for the trailer. The outside-the-rail tanks were somewhat shorter than those on the Suburban, but the under bed spare tire location tank was the same as that on
the Suburban. In addition, since there was no driveline, a between-the-rails tank was added in front of the differential.

  The same type of rear bumper was added that the Suburban had, including the ladder to the rack on the matching heavy-duty bed cap, the swing away spare tire and Jerry can racks, and the receiver hitch. The cap had with full opening long side windows and rear lift up door.

  The front of the frame, where it began to bend to came to the hitch point had a rack built to carry a second spare, two HD deep cycle batteries, and two forty-pound propane tanks.

  The Suburban was more than capable of reaching some very far off the beaten path locations, even with the trailer. He studied some internet maps and found what he wanted.

  Then he bought some camping equipment and headed for the hills for a while. Or so it appeared. Jimmy did set up camp and lived there for two weeks. Then he loaded up everything and headed back to the city.

  But he didn’t go back the way he’d come in. He forded the stream where he was camping, and drove the Suburban and trailer through the woods until he hit the fire road for which he was looking. The fire road took him to a county road, it to a state road, and finally to a small town where he already had a storage room, and the basement of one of the quadraplexes he owned.

  Jimmy rented another storage unit, backed the trailer in and unhooked it, then backed the Suburban in beside it. He changed his appearance, closed the door, and headed for downtown on foot, with a duffle bag strapped to his back.

  It didn’t take long to find a used car lot. He paid $500.00 cash for a beat up junker that had just been turned in on one of those ‘if-you-can-get-it-here’ trade-in deals. He left the lot, fueled the little Toyota, and stopped at a handy location to change his appearance once again. Then, with a slight smile on his face, Jimmy Holden started a solo war against the federal government.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Using his left hand, Jimmy laboriously hand printed, on yellow tablet paper from a convenience store, with a pen from the same convenience store, his declaration of war. He took it to Kinko’s and made a hundred copies on the self-serve machine.