Our War: Volume II

By Richard Maverick

Not for the faint of heart, Our War Volume II is the gritty, much anticipated next installment of the action-packed series. After the latest fierce battle nearly annihilated their ranks, the tenacious survivors must now rally, from tragic losses, to counter new aggressors intent on massacring them. Join them on their vengeful journey through the darkest, most savage levels of humanity as they discover a chilling conspiracy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667856902

Book preview

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© Richard Maverick 2022

ISBN: 978-1-66785-689-6

eBook ISBN: 978-1-66785-690-2

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

About myself and some lessons Learned.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Acknowledgments

About myself and some lessons Learned.

For those who read my first book, things will look very different from this point forward. If you haven’t, I encourage you to do so, as it will help you understand my growth. Regardless, I welcome you to my journey.

It has been an enjoyable and educational ride getting to this point. I have done much traveling and met some fantastic new people following the publication of my first book. Since then, prior to and after publishing, I have learned so much about the craft of writing and continue to do so every day.

Before I delve into that, let me tell you some things about myself.

I’ve always been a dreamer. Throughout my life I wanted to be a singer, a police officer, a football player, and an ICE agent, likely among many other professions at various times. One problem with being a dreamer is our tendency to share our dreams with others, and naturally, there will always be those who attempt to beat them into the ground. Unfortunately, I chose to allow their negativity in, destroying aspirations my entire life. However, I had one dream I never shared with anyone…I’ve always wanted to write a book.

While I was in the third grade, I recall being assigned a creative writing project. I had no clue what to do, but, when I finally put pen to paper, it turned into a three-and-a-half-page story. While most of my classmates turned in one page or less.

At the time, I was reading at an eleventh-grade level. I would read book after book, at home, on the bus, and any other spare moment I had. While I was reading Navy Battle Stations by Roger Jewett, I came across a scene in the book which was far too mature for a third-grader. I proceeded to read it to my buddies on the bus, we all got a huge laugh out of it. However, one of my sisters overheard us, and told my father when he came home from work. He immediately snatched the book away from me. I quit reading altogether after that incident, interpreting his actions as his way of discouraging me from reading. Of course, I now realize that was not the case. Later in my late teens’ or early twenties, I found that book on one of my dad’s many bookshelves. I took it, and hid it among my belongings. For some reason, I’ve always looked at that moment as an act of defiance against my father. Nearly thirty years would pass before I picked up a book again.

My entire life, I’ve been a great storyteller, even if only to myself. Since my job required me to spend countless hours behind the wheel of a van driving to gun shows, I’d end up reciting stories to myself, often similar ones over and over, attempting to perfect them. Some call that daydreaming, while others may consider it crazy. I viewed it as a sign. As I once told one of my closest friends, he and I have had a million conversations he was never in the room for.

In 2016, while watching the TV show, Castle, with my children, I was reminded of my dream to write a book. I decided to pursue it, not because I wanted fame and fortune but, because as Castle said, I wanted to live life on my own terms. Most importantly, I did it for my children. How can I, as a father, teach them to chase their dreams if I never chased my own?

In April of 2017, I purchased a laptop and began writing OUR WAR, unaware how vital reading is to the art of writing. It was late 2018, almost eighteen months after I began writing, before I told anyone that I was working on my first novel. Even those closest to me were in the dark, unaware of my secret work. The more people I shared this with, the easier my writing flowed, and I became even more determined to finish my book. In late 2019 my wife and I purchased a house in town. While moving, I found an old notebook from 2003 which included my first attempt writing this book. I had forgotten all about it. Although it was only six pages long, I was amazed to see how the story had morphed over the years.

I finished the first final draft of my book in January 2020. I informed my dear friend Cory Vogel, who was excited I had written and finally finished a book. His encouragement was indispensable to me. He was one of the first people, in my adult life, to see my potential and articulate it. He messaged me, demanding I listen to The Joe Rogan Experience podcast with author Jack Carr. It took two weeks of his incessant nagging before I finally messaged back, asking him what the hell a podcast was. He was almost a pain in the ass about it, but I eventually researched Jack Carr and ordered his first three books, considering the possibility they would end up high-priced decorations on my bookshelf. I began listening to the podcast while driving to and from our farm, my longer drives to the butcher and back helped me to finish it. Shortly after, The Battleline podcast had an appearance by Jack Carr, so I also listened to it. One of the greatest impressions I gained from listening to Carr’s story was how essential reading is. Once his books arrived at my house, I immediately began reading his first novel, The Terminal List.

I was in complete disbelief when I finished his first book within a week. I was captivated the entire time! I remember my anticipation, eager to get home so I could continue reading. Though I genuinely believe I wrote a good book, when I was finished with his, I compared his story to my own, which caused my own self-doubt to sink in. Eventually, I remembered something else Jack Carr mentioned during the Joe Rogan Experience. He explained how Brad Thor was instrumental in helping him to get published, and had asked Carr if his book Was as good as he could make it at that time. Those words lingered in my mind. The truth is, had I not published my first book when I did, I would have succumbed to all the self-doubt and the negativity and likely would have never published at all.

I sent my book, all 274 pages, in a three-ring binder to a couple of friends and, most importantly, a few people who knew of me but, did not know me personally, one of which was Steve Fisher of Sentinel Concepts. I cannot tell you why but the thought of his review had me scared shitless. As I waited for people to review my book, I continued to read the rest of Jack Carr’s books. I had all three of them read inside of a month. Thankfully I already had eight of Brad Thor’s novels on my bookshelf waiting. I’ve read twenty-one books at the time this was written.

There were many times while writing the first book that I almost quit. I had fears of rejection, fear that no one would want to read my work, and fears that no one would come out for signings. I’ve dealt with negativity from family since before I published, I still do to this day. On my worst days, I think of the most solid advice I got from Steve Fisher, Get the fuck over it. His wisdom is sometimes overwhelming.

After what felt like an eternity, Steve Fisher had finally reached out to me using some overly colorful words to describe me personally for the way I ended my first book. Although, he did inform me he enjoyed the book. Weeks before publishing, one of my best friends told me he enjoyed the book, Now go home and write four more. I’d hate to see you waste all that money on this book. This caused me to enter complete panic mode, my self-doubting returning with a vengeance. I reached out to Steve, asking if I should change anything. He told me not to change a thing.

The more query letters I sent and the more rejections I received, my doubt nearly crippled me. I then chose to follow Fisher’s suggestion to self-publish. Doubt is the most formidable killer of dreams, surpassing those who would rather see you fail. I saw a post on Facebook that read something to the effect of, Those close to you want you to fail, while a total stranger stands in your corner hoping you succeed. The closer my dream came to print, the more that people I have never met gathered in my corner, anxious as I for the book’s release. For me, that was the most surreal experience: people who had no clue who I was, who probably couldn’t tell me from my friend Cory if they met us both on the same day, had my back. That support was unexpected as some of those closest to me were nowhere near as excited for me nor are they today.

Before my first book’s publication date, I asked myself how to make my second book better than the first, especially after reading books by Jack Carr and Brad Thor. The first thing I came up with was not to compare my story line to theirs. The following list includes lessons I’ve learned along the way and what I strive to accomplish so I may be the best author I can, for my fans, while completing my future works promptly.

Better descriptions: Early in the first book, I was told not to be too detailed. I took that statement too literally and didn’t give enough description about the guns, gear, and, well, the bulk of the story. I hope you will see I have included more details this time around.

Reading more: As previously mentioned I have not read enough. I have corrected that this past year. As I take time to write, I also take time daily to read at least a few chapters.

Editing and writing as separate actions: I have the editing software running all of the time now while I’m writing, and using two different editing softwares.

Proofreading the entire book at once: I’m currently writing a few chapters at a time, then printing and proofreading. Next, I double-check my corrections on the computer. Finally, I send everything to my editor.

Accuracy: How can I make this next book as accurate as possible? I decided to actively train more. Before this segment, I traveled to Oneida, New York, to train with EJ Weeks of Crossrifle Solutions in structure clearing techniques. There is a good bulk of this book that your new favorite team of heroes will be entering and clearing buildings. I wanted to ensure that I got the details right.

Professional editing: It was recommended to me by Eric Bishop and Matt Scott, that I enlist the help of a professional editor. What a difference she has made.

Writing with less emotion: Instead of getting off work, after having a bad day, and coming home to write. I found it best to take the day to clear my head. Let the good days control the flow of my work.

I’ve included some real historical facts about the area this book is set in. For legal reasons, my lawyer suggested that I do not use real town names.

My mind still wanders into the darkness of doubt. Some days are more difficult than others. I keep believing someday my work will pay off. Somedays, I cry, some I’m angry, and others, the writing just flows. I continuously strive to work even harder for you, my fans, to make each book the best I possibly can.

If we are, or ever been friends, or have ever had a lengthy conversation, there is a chance I will use something I know of you as a basis for a character in my works. I will never use anyone’s true likeness. Hell, some people will have many characters based on them, as I believe we all have two sides. However, if you believe I’ve used your likeness 100%, it is a complete coincidence. Remember it’s a work of fiction. If you are, in fact, offended by the likeness of a character, remember what Steve Fisher said.

At the time this was written, I had sent out some samples of the new book to a few people for test reading. Thus far, the feedback has been tremendous, and I’m feeling assured that you’ll love not only what I’ve done with the story but how much my writing has matured over time.

A friend once told me, The first book is for you. The next one is for your fans.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

LET’S GO, BRANDON!!!!!

For my fans,

Thank you for being a part of my journey. Your support means the world to me. I promise to continue writing, and to continue learning the craft of writing for you.

You deserve my best and you will get it.

Chapter 1

I say again. There is a military-looking plane flying over West of Main. It’s dropping paratroopers, One-Three came over the radio again.

My thoughts were engrossed on the door in front of me. I could see through large holes caused by a 50 cal. I opened the door. The West wall was almost destroyed, and the entire room was dripping crimson with blood. At my feet was an arm; in the center of the room was what was left of a nearly dismembered adult body, face down. I moved toward it, slipping on the blood, causing me to fall onto the body. I managed to steady myself up onto my knees, but my now blood-covered hands fumbled as I attempted to flip the body over. Once I finally managed to, I was horrified to realize it was all that was left of Ann.

I felt so saddened I burst into tears, yet at the same time, a rush of relief came over me as there was no sign of my children. I felt my wife’s hand on my shoulder as I reached forward and closed Ann’s lifeless blue eyes. My wife then helped me to my feet. We turned, leaving the room, now searching and calling for our children.

As we made our way down the hall, yelling for our children, they came running to us from our bedroom. They were in tears and crying out for us. I knelt in front of them, using my body to shield them from the sight of the room twenty feet behind us, as they crashed into me.

Dada… Miss… Ann… rushed us from my room… she… she told us to run and hide, Princess explained through her sobs.

Just then, Handsome’s attention was grabbed as he noticed the tourniquet on my leg.

Daddy, why do you have on a tourniquet? They are for stopping the bleeding. WHY DO YOU HAVE ONE ON?? He screamed, WHAT HAPPENED??

Princess began to cry louder and harder as she noticed the blood soaking through my pants.

I’m fine, I will see Grandpa in a few minutes, and Daddy will be good as new again, I said, soothingly stroking her hair, Please don’t worry.

I did my best to pick up Princess, using the wall to help guide me to my feet. My wife picked up Handsome, and we headed downstairs. I radioed to Doc that I needed his attention. Then radioed to the team to see who was left standing. One by one, the team slowly began checking in over the radio.

This is One-Three, I’m good.

Two-Five standing.

This is Two-Four. I’m good, Two-Eight is breathing but unconscious, and Six-Six is awake but badly disorientated.

Eight-Nine reporting, I took a few rounds to my hard plates, but I’m good and checking on the guys at Alpha.

Six-One checking in, Three-Three is dead. I say again Three-Three is dead. I’m here at Alpha with Eight-Nine arriving now.

As we arrived to the kitchen area, Robin stood there, I’m good too, boss.

Chapter 2

Doc came in, took one look at my leg, and started to prep for patching me up. He took the tourniquet off my leg, handing it to me just as one of the remaining Humvees pulled in. From the truck emerged Two-Five and One-Three. They went to the back, pulling out Two-Eight’s near-lifeless body, and carried him inside. As they laid him on my dining room table, he awoke, in a massive panic, frantically looking for his gun. It took a little bit before Doc, and the others could calm him down. Two-Five and One-Three held his hands down against the cold table while trying to reassure Two-Eight that everything was going to be ok. Once Two-Eight was calm, Two-Five, and One-Three returned to the truck to retrieve Six-Six. They brought him in and placed him on my couch. They turned to leave when Doc stopped them.

I’m going to need both of you to move Two-Eight to the next room, and then I need you to hold Will down. I have to clean and clear his wound. It’s going to cause him more pain than he has ever been in before.

Near in unison, they said, Copy that, Doc.

While One-Three helped Two-Eight into the living room Two-Five went to find his wife to sit with him. Once Two-Five returned and helped Two-Eight’s get wife situated, they helped me onto the table. Each of them picked a side of the table. Climbed up, took my hand, and placed their knee into my chest. The pain was already unbearable from their knees, causing my broken ceramic plates to dig into my chest.

One-Three looked at me. This is going to hurt, and I mean bad, Brother, but, don’t worry, we got you, he said as Doc began to clean and clear my wound before stitching me up. Two-Five and One-Three left to find Six-Six’s wife, it took them a while, but they found her, amongst our dead.

I passed out from the excruciating pain. I was told later that my screams were so loud they could hear them up at what used to be Alpha. My wife found one of Doc’s canes; I would need it to help me walk for the foreseeable future. I got off the table, groaning in pain, removed my plate carrier, which I was now out of plates for, grabbed my new walking instrument, and made my way down to the Cave. I started searching for a change of holster. Because the one on my battle belt had a leg strap that was now irritating my injured leg. I found my old Raven Concealment Perun outside the waistband holster, ditched my battle belt, holstered my Glock 19 with Streamlight TLR-7, threw two spare magazines in a carrier on my belt, went back upstairs, and headed out the door towards Alpha.

Before I could get much further than where we used to park our cars, Ann’s mother and father approached me with Robert not far behind them. They were in full panic mode, as they had been unable to find Ann since the shooting stopped, and the last place they knew she was headed was to Main. My eyes swelled with tears as I switched off my Baofeng BF-F8HP radio, and her parents knew before I could say a word. Her father started to say something when he aggressively grabbed his chest and collapsed to the ground. Ann’s Mother got on her knees next to him as Robert and I rushed to check on him. He wasn’t breathing. I began CPR with help from Robert. I wasn’t sure