The Rebels

By Brittany Jo James

Happiness is only reserved for the upper class in the United States of America.

As a military wife who spends most of her time working for minimum wage, Temper Jensen can attest to that. Finding a spare moment to spend with her husband, Voss, is a luxury she can hardly afford.

Everything changes when the citizens realize that the president of the country is nothing more than a terrorist bent on total domination. Freedom no longer exists for the citizens of the United States of America and all who dare defy their new rulers are considered rebels of the nation.

Temper knows what she must do, even if it means being separated from Voss in order to save his life. Risking everything, she runs home to her moonshine-brewing anarchist daddy’s home in southwest Arkansas to collect a congregation of rebels to fight back. No one can be trusted, especially Temper’s devious ex-boyfriend who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

Can Temper reunite with her husband, keep her wayward family out of trouble, and restore the USA to the nation under God that it was intended to be—or will freedom as we know it be lost forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brittany Jo James
• Release date: Jun 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9780692226322

Book preview

The Rebels is lovingly dedicated to

Conlee James and Kase Nix,

Thanks for being the strong, dedicated, unstoppable men that you’ve both become. You’ve supported me with every decision I’ve ever made and I can’t express how grateful I am for that. I don’t know what I would do without you.

Thanks (Conlee) for being the best husband, and (Kase) for being the best brother any girl could ever hope to have.

And yes, I will remind you of this dedication the next time you shoot me with your airsoft guns.

Love y’all.

ONE

But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come. –2 Timothy 3:1

Realization

Daddy spoke absently to me as I stared at the blood-speckled snow under my small feet. I listened closely, trying to ignore the loud ringing from the gunshot still echoing in my ears. He took a drink of moonshine from a mason jar, a product of his own copper still. I guess I’ll never forget his words, although he wasn’t trying to be as insightful as I believed him to be.

The man I admired more than any other human soul looked up from the deer he was skinning, knife still in hand.  This world ain’t worth nothing no more. Don’t trust nobody, Temper. You hear me? Don’t trust nobody. Those sentences were formed between puffs of a Marlboro cigarette and sips of White Lightning before he turned his attention back to preparing the trophy of his morning hunt.

My dark blond ponytail bounced as I nodded my head. That was a promise I planned to keep until my dying day. I was only six years old when I agreed to his demand, but my word was trustworthy, nonetheless. Daddy’s fragments of advice and warnings play in my mind often but that one, sixteen years ago, is the one I have based my entire life around.

His speeches were never eloquent and he was a man of very few words but I took his guidance to heart. Daddy didn’t have a college education because he didn’t need one. He understood how to survive in this crazy world and that was good enough for me.

Ma’am?

I jumped, my eyes darting upward to the cashier in front of me as her beckoning brought me out of my wayward reverie. Oh, I’m sorry. I spit out awkwardly. I need to pay sixty dollars for fuel at pump number four, please.

Yeah. Sure. Is everything alright? The woman asked with a raised eyebrow. Her false concern was neither surprising nor unordinary. No one really cared about anyone else anymore, especially not strangers. It was a dog eat dog world... Every man for himself.

My phony smile didn’t fool her any more than her indifferent inquiry had fooled me and I darted my green eyes distractedly. I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. Long day, you know?

She grunted, I know how that goes. I’ve been working for ten hours now and I’ve still got two to go.

With her haggard appearance, no one could have questioned her claim. Her eyes had dark circles around them and little lines, the form of early wrinkles, scattered haphazardly across her bony face. The woman wasn’t old, maybe thirty years at the most, but she already had a crown of graying hair where her golden red highlights needed to be touched up.

Hmm, I replied as I handed her a few wadded up dollar bills, fishing in my pocket for the rest. Is the convenient store shorthanded today?

Nah, I need the overtime. I’ve got bills to pay and two kids to feed. This place doesn’t pay very well and I’m taking classes a couple days a week down at the community college. I have to pay for my books, she shrugged dejectedly.

I had pulled a double at the commissary the last two days in a row, partially for the overtime but mainly because of my manager’s looming threat that if I wanted to keep my job, I’d be there with a smile on—and as little else as possible, in that creep’s opinion. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, a line of military wives waited in irritation for their organic cucumbers and assorted snack packs. By noon I had blisters covering both ankles from all the running I had done in my black and gray Corral boots. Not to mention that I was always the last to leave with an aching back and a throbbing pain in my right knee from a previous wrestling injury I blamed on my older brother.

Needless to say, I knew how she felt. Yeah, well, count your blessings. I would love to have a baby but I can’t afford one. I tried to laugh with my last sentence but it wasn’t funny. The pitifully honest words put a bitter taste in my mouth just to speak them so I changed the subject while she continued to pry at the outdated cash register. What are you majoring in?

She rolled her eyes, Business. I thought that would pay well but then the economy crashed. My dream was to be a journalist but it’s too hard to find a well-paying media career and I knew if I was going to spend so much time with school I at least had to be able to find a job after graduation. So, I chose business. What a mistake! I’m nearly finished now so it’s too late to change majors without wasting three semesters of my life.

The cashier shrugged dolefully and continued, The gas station offered to give me a raise if I stay here. As an assistant manager I’ll earn eight dollars and twenty five cents an hour. That’s a whole dollar over minimum wage. Can you believe that? A bachelor’s degree is worthless anymore. It makes me sick.

She took a deep breath and forced her lips upward at the corners. It didn’t work very well. Shaking her head, she handed me my change and nodded toward the door, Have a good day.

Thanks. You too. Good luck with school, I mumbled as I walked through the door.

I glanced around suspiciously out of habit and pulled my keys out of the pocket on my black leather jacket. My car door opened with a miserable squeak and I brushed my blond side-bangs out of my eyes. With my right hand, I shoved the keys into the ignition and started the engine while simultaneously using my left hand to click the lock button on my doors. The shifter went smoothly into drive and I shot out of the parking lot like a bullet.

Pulling away safely, my ragged breathing calmed and I turned the radio on. Led Zeppelin blared through my speakers and out my windows but the sound of the cashier’s disgusted voice in my ears was all I could hear.

***

How was work? I asked as my husband slowly joined me in the kitchen. His handsome face and camouflage uniform were covered with oil from the F-22 Raptor he had been slaving over and his muscled arms were just as filthy. He dropped to the chair in exhaustion without answering my question.

I glanced at the clock, reheating his dinner. You haven’t been home before dark once this week. Your pork chops were ready hours ago. Did you have a bad day?

It was normal. Sorry I’m so late again. I’m starving, Voss answered with a failed attempt at a reassuring smile.

They didn’t give you time to eat lunch again? I asked in aggravation. That was a question I already knew the answer to.

Voss comes home starving every night because he barely gets to eat lunch and they work him until his fingers bleed. Tell me the truth. They didn’t even give you a lunch break, did they? Not even ten minutes, right?

Voss winced, knowing he said too much. It’s alright.

It’s not alright. You worked thirteen hours today without a single bite to eat. Axe murderers and child molesters who sit in prison cells are treated better than that. You’re a soldier, a member of the United States Air Force. Just a little respect would be nice.

No big deal, he whispered as he devoured the food on the plate I prepared for him. He paused for a moment, taking a drink of cold tea then turning to me. How was everything at work?

Fine, I answered, reaching out to hold his hand. The commissary was pretty empty this afternoon so I was released a little early. I paid a few bills, got gas, and came home. That was it.

Do we have enough money left to last until payday?

Barely, but we’ll be fine. I assured unconfidently.

My husband didn’t reply. He pursed his lips together and finished his meal. Handing me his empty plate, he painfully lifted his tired body from the table and walked toward our bedroom.  I locked the doors and followed, ready for bed. Voss struggled to pull his t-shirt over his aching muscles and I reached out to run my hand down his arm lovingly.

A little help? He asked with a weary smile.

I stood on my tippy toes to pull the filthy rag off of his shoulders and over his head. Thanks, babe. He whispered as I gathered his wallet, keys, dirty shirt and hat together to put them away for the night.

I glanced back at him as he pulled off his boots. His muscled chest and abs were tight and he stretched to each side, hoping to relieve some of the discomfort from the morning’s workout.  I stared at the tattoo positioned perfectly on the right side of his chest that complemented the slightly smaller one on my right shoulder.

The shield on his chest was large, taking up most of his right pectoral muscle. The bright green cross in the middle of it, which shot green accentuations through the rest of the tattoo, drew most of the attention, but the verse over the top that said, Put on the full armor of God was my favorite part. At the bottom of the shield, the verse, Ephesians 6:16 completed his tattoo.

Out of the five of us who had coordinating tattoos, mine was the only one not placed on the pectoral muscle... but since I was the only girl, and a chest tattoo wasn’t quite as ideal in my opinion, I had no choice but to find an alternate location. Being the only girl never made me the odd one out to my four favorite guys though. It was more like I was the special one, the most valued, in their eyes.

I glanced over my shoulder into the mirror to stare at my own tattoo- the cute cowboy boots on the right side of my upper back. The purple cross cut-out in the side of the boots was small compared to Voss’ green one, but like his, the color from the cross highlighted the rest of the tattoo. The boots had angel wings going up the sides and the same words from the book of Ephesians were tattooed across the top, only slightly smaller. My own special verse, Ephesians 6:15 was written at the bottom.

Turning on my heels, I ambled away to finish my task of putting away his things. When I reentered the bathroom a few minutes later, he was humming his own strange rendition of Johnny Cash’s Folsom Prison Blues in the shower.

Don’t forget that Eden’s second birthday is this weekend. We promised Shawn and Allison that we would come to the party, I reminded, washing off my make-up.

Oh, I completely forgot about that. I’m sorry, you’re going to have to go alone, Voss answered from the other side of the shower curtain.

What? Why? I asked in disappointment, facing the shower. I traced the multicolored fish on the blue curtain as I waited for his response. I knew what he would say because it had been said so many times before.

Some guy got busted for underage drinking so they’re bringing us all in on Saturday for a four mile run, then we have to work for a while.

You worked last weekend though!

Tell that to the idiot who got us all in trouble.

I bit my lip, running a hairbrush through my dark blond hair, I was really looking forward to spending time with you.

I’ll be off on Sunday, at least.

I stared into the mirror as Voss threw the shower curtain open behind me. His tan form barely came into view in the steamy mirror and I tossed a blue towel over my shoulder to him. He wrapped it around his waist just as I finished brushing out my hair and I turned around to follow him into the bedroom.

We can’t miss church on Sunday morning, you have to mow the backyard this weekend before we get in trouble by the base housing office, and you promised you would work on my car. The Check Engine light is still on and it died again today. I was listening to Awolnation, feeling pretty awesome in my Dollar Store sunglasses and pulled up to the red light when it sputtered and died. It took me four tries to get the engine to start back up. People laughed, I moped with my hands on my hips.

He chuckled at my embarrassment as he threw his tired body into the bed and wrapped his strong arms around me, I’m sure you looked cool. No worries. I’ll get it all done. No rest for the wicked, right? Anyway, eat a piece of cake at Eden’s birthday party for me and brag on Shawn’s new wedding band. Have you seen it yet? It’s awesome and he’s really proud of it. After three years of saving up money for it, he should be, I suppose. Maybe one day we’ll have three rowdy kids like Shawn and Allison do and both of us can scrape up the money for nicer wedding rings.

I guess. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow will be another busy day just like this one, I whispered, snuggling up next to him.

Voss didn’t reply and I tilted my chin up to face him. His eyes were already closed and his mouth slowly dropped open in front of me as exhaustion overwhelmed him.

I kissed him lightly on his soft lips then rolled over to stare upward at the ceiling in contemplation. My last birthday cake held twenty two candles but it might as well have been full of them. It came as an odd relief that I probably only had another sixty or seventy years to worry about finances and my mere existence.

I thought about Daddy and instantly one of our arguments came to mind. You’re making a mistake leaving this town, girl. Ain’t nothing out there but crooks. I need you here to help with the family business. Why can’t you just go to college in town like your brother did?

Daddy, that’s a vocational college. I don’t want to learn to weld, I mumbled, packing my bags.

What’s wrong with welding? Heck, you could get a job at the steel mill right across town and make good money. Besides, you’d be close and could help me with the moonshine business. Do you know how busy I’ll be when I don’t have you making our runs?

I don’t want to run moonshine, Daddy. I want to be a psychologist. I want to help people.

Who says my White Lightning don’t help people? He grumbled, obviously offended.

I rolled my green eyes, Daddy—

And you want to be a shrink? Won’t that take years of school? I can’t have you gone that long. I know a man who can print you up a real nice license that’ll look genuine and never get you caught. You could start charging money for advice tomorrow, he said seriously as he picked up the phone to dial.

No, no, no! I shrieked, yanking the phone from his fingers. Daddy, I’m going to college whether you like it or not. I’ll only be an hour from home.

Daddy scrunched his eyebrows, Is that Voss Jensen boy going to be there? Is that what this is all about? You know, I talked to Sutton Sorenson’s grandpa at the hardware store yesterday and he said that Sutton took a job at the mill.

I took a deep breath, putting my hands on my hips as I answered. Yes, he’ll be there. No, he’s not what this is about. And for the last time, I couldn’t care less what Sutton Sorenson does. I’m not dating him anymore and I won’t ever be again. That ship has sailed, Daddy. Anyway, once I graduate I can even afford to buy you a new fishing boat. How does that sound?

Your sweet talk ain’t changing my mind about all of this, Temper. What if you get up there and have an emergency? How could I get to you? Have you thought of that? He questioned, his voice growing louder. Daddy reached up and tucked a stray string of blond hair behind my ear dotingly and then crossed his chest with his arms.

Oh! Listen to yourself. I’ll be an hour away. One hour! I’ll be home every weekend. Besides, I can take care of myself. You taught me how to handle things on my own, I reminded him. Daddy trained me from the time I was born to be tough, strong, unshakeable, unbreakable. He taught me to fight. He taught me to survive.

I don’t know, Temper. I just don’t think you should go, he grumbled as he walked out of my room.

Daddy was the one who named me. Mama wanted to call me something popular from a giant book of assorted baby names. I think she was settled on Courtney or Bethany. Daddy wanted something unique instead, something unheard of. Once I was born he told everyone in the room that I wasn’t meant for a normal name. I needed something special, something different.

He supposedly said, Look in her eyes. You can tell she has a temper! That’s what we’ll call her. My little Temper. I would have much preferred Courtney or Bethany.

My name was a joke from the beginning though. Everyone in school called me Timid Temper, because I was sweet and shy, far from being the spitfire my daddy wanted. I don’t care what anyone says, he always argued. I can see it in her eyes. She’s got something bold and stubborn about her. Yep, she’s got a temper, alright.

I gave up trying to convince Daddy that I should leave town and go to college. I just waved goodbye from the rearview mirror. That was four years ago, before I went to college with Voss. He and I were married only a year later. Daddy wasn’t fond of that choice either.

When the economy crashed, Voss joined the United States Air Force. It didn’t take me long to find out that a bachelor’s degree in psychology amounts to little but costs a lot. Voss never graduated from college. The Air Force recruiter promised he could continue his education to get him to join but that was just a trick we shouldn’t have fallen for.

Thinking about our lifelong journey that would surely be full of struggle and lack must have been depressing enough to put me to sleep because my eyes fluttered closed. A few hours later, I woke up to the sound of my world crashing around me. I’m sure the first day of the crisis was different for everyone, but for me it all started with a twenty second phone call.

TWO

You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time. –Abraham Lincoln

Resistance

Hello? Voss answered groggily.

Who in the world is calling you this late at night? I demanded in irritation from across the bed. Normally when someone calls you at 4:00 AM it’s a prank call or a cheating scandal, but I wasn’t happy about it either way.

Hello? He repeated, disoriented and tired. Voss bounded straight up from the bed as he said, Yes, sir?

Yes.

Yes, sir.

Ten minutes, sir.

Five minutes?

Yes, sir.

Okay, sir. Goodbye.

Sorry, sir.

Yes, I’m hurrying.

Okay, sir.

Voss ran toward the closet, throwing on a clean sand-colored t-shirt and yanking a pair of BDU’s from a hanger. Voss? What’s going on? I asked growing fearful. Even at that point, unsure of everything, I knew something huge was happening. It was a gut feeling. This wasn’t the first time he had been called into work in the middle of the night, but this time was definitely different.

No time to explain, Temper. Besides, I’m not really sure. All I know is that Chief Master Sargent Franklin—who barely knows my name, mind you, just called me saying that the Commander is issuing a base-wide recall for a national disaster. They didn’t even use the recall roster. He actually called me himself. I have to go, he hurriedly said, running out the door.

I stared at the portal for a moment in shock before it swung back open. Voss ran through and looked me in the eyes, pausing for a moment. Temper, be careful. Okay? I don’t know if we’ve had a terrorist attack or if this is some wacky drill but take precaution. I know I don’t have to tell you to watch out for yourself; you can handle that better than anyone I know. I’m just a little worried, so for my sake, be extra careful until I get home. I love you.

I love you too, I whispered from the bed. He was gone before I could finish the whole sentence. I sat up, pushing my bangs out of my eyes and combing my hair with my fingers.

It was impossible for me to go back to sleep so I walked to the living room and flipped the television on. The newscasters on Channel 7 were in a panic over something so I sat down in awe to listen and learn. Why would anyone agree to this? One news anchor asked.

Security! Think of all the benefits. The only people who disagree with the idea are those who won’t even consider what it offers. People get so caught up in their stubborn mindset that they don’t even realize the potential! Another newscaster retorted, crumpling up a piece of paper and throwing it across the room.

How can you say that? This country stands on the foundation of freedom! They’re trying to take our rights away. We’ll be like caged animals.

Ha! Maybe you’re right but isn’t a zoo a lot safer than the Sahara?

President Amir is the change that is taking this country from somewhat hopeful to simply hopeless! I don’t care what you say; I’m not giving up my freedom or my rights. The people need to stand up against this bill. We won’t allow it to come to pass, the first newscaster rattled on.

The second just shook his head, You better be prepared because change is coming and you can either get with it or get left behind—

I turned to another news channel, hoping to make more sense of the situation. My heart beat rapidly in my chest and my mind raced with questions. I caught the reporter just in time. For all of you just tuning in, the citizens of the United States of America have been informed that President Amir and a select group of congressmen are signing a bill to demand that every citizen be implanted with a special scanning device that can trace us from anywhere in the world.

She paused for a moment before continuing. If this bill passes through congress, we will be given a forty eight hour window to receive our implant and after that time passes, anyone who is caught without one will be considered an illegal alien, trespassing in the United States of America, and will then be forced to receive the implant.

My eyes suddenly felt moist. I shook the weak tears from my face and tensed every muscle in my body. I don’t cry. Ever. Daddy says that crying doesn’t help anything. It’s just a waste of time that could be spent doing something useful.

Gretchen, please explain some of the supposed benefits of the hand implant, the reporter implored.

The blond haired woman nodded, Thanks Michelle, the benefits are unlimited! For example, any child who is kidnapped will be traceable continuously. There will be no searching for missing children or runaway teens. The local police can pinpoint their exact location at any given time. Also, no one likes the idea of their credit cards being stolen or getting lost, do they? With the hand implant, your local Target or Walmart can simply scan your hand, immediately receiving approval from your bank without having the risky uncertainty of swiping your card! You will be your own living, breathing, smart phone!

I understand, Michelle consented. However, Gretchen, don’t you fear for your privacy? If the local police can monitor when you’re taking a shower, being intimate with your husband, holding a surprise birthday party for a friend or just going about our daily lives, then don’t you consider that an infringement of our personal privacy? We will literally be handing over our right of confidentiality to the United States government.

What’s more important—keeping a surprise birthday party a secret or monitoring every action of a sex offender, murder suspect, or thief? Gretchen probed.

They argued back and forth for a few moments and I turned the television off, not wanting to watch anymore. My mind had been on Voss since the moment he left. A million questions went unanswered as half of the country still slept silently in their beds, unaware of the bill. What does any of this have to do with Voss?

After hours of pacing the floor and a quick shower, I left the house to go to work. The commissary parking lot was nearly empty except for a few cars, which was certainly unusual for the base’s only grocery store. A group of women and men stood at the entrance preaching about God and the Antichrist.

The end is coming soon! Repent and receive everlasting life! They yelled. I ran through the doors, fearful of the mob growing outside.

Temper? Hurry, come in! The President is about to address the nation, the manager yelled as I took my jacket off. His eyes dropped to my chest, as usual, halfway through his sentence. They remained there for a long moment before he slowly raised his creepy leer to my eyes.

My coworkers gathered around the television in the manager’s office and I reluctantly joined them as the President appeared at a podium on the screen. Thousands of people cheered, booed, shouted and cried. My manager attempted to bump against me, accidentally of course, and let his gross hand linger on my arm. I jerked it away from him brusquely, drawing a glare.

My fellow Americans, President Amir began. As we speak, congress is making a decision about a nationwide, mandatory tracking devise to be implemented as soon as possible. To me, this issue is not a difficult one to make. The hand implant, further being titled Amir-1, is a device that can answer all of our problems.

If you care about the security of our children, comply. If you care about monitoring the safety of our elderly, comply. If you want to be immediately recognized upon arrival at any hospital with an emergency, without having to go through books of paperwork, insurance verification and emergency contact information, comply. If you want our country to rise up as the leading nation in unity, trust and brotherhood, then comply.

He took a moment to rearrange his note-cards. President Amir was all about eloquence of speech to compensate for his shallow words. He was a conniving and deceitful abyss that we poured all of our hope and trust into. He liked to use pretty words and sweet sounding promises to trick the nation into happily handing him our rights, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

I didn’t vote for him. As far as I know, no one did. The election was a joke, completely rigged so that whichever candidate had the most money could buy out the presidency. We were all brainwashed into believing we still had control over our country and the sad thing was, we were too afraid to admit that we knew deep down inside that we didn’t. We weren’t anything but glorified slaves in our own country and those with money were our slavers.

The bill for Amir-1 is currently sitting with the United States Congress. I am confident that the bill will pass and when it does, it will be sent to me. Let me be the first to tell you that I plan to sign it immediately. I encourage each of you to stay informed and educated on the topic at hand. When the bill becomes a law, you will be expected to comply promptly. We want the wonderful effects of nationwide security that Amir-1will offer to be available with haste. Thank you, he finished.

Security swarmed the president and rushed him from the stage. Everyone watched in eerie silence, waiting for the chaos to follow. No one moved. No one made a sound. President Amir was hustled into an armored car and taken away. We waited for gunshots, screaming, cursing insults or fights but nothing happened. As a matter of fact, the commissary, the crowd on television, the parking lot, and the whole world as far as I know, just remained deathly still and quiet from shock.

Finally, after an eternity of silence my manager turned the television off. Still, for a moment no one moved or made a noise. My manager turned to me and looked me in the eyes for once.