Not My House You Don't: Living in the U.S.A. in 2028

By Karl Thomson

While this book is about America in 2028 under a socialist government that no longer provides protection for its citizens and no longer believes public should have the right to protect themselves. That no longer believes our Constitution and Bill of Rights means the same as it did one hundred or even fifty years ago. Then calls this progress with their new ideas of how the nation should be run. While discarding old definitions to replace with their new interpretations. Forgetting past promises to balance the budget, control government spending. Free speech is redefined and limited; gun ownership is restricted to firearms that do not pose a problem against law enforcement. Even then very strict enforcement of very restrictive laws applies. Inter-structure means paying for government programs as well as repairing roads, dams, bridges and all it meant in the past. A time when Citizenship means nothing, and any human with their feet on American soil, all have the same rights. A time when inflation has grown so bad that retirement funds are valueless. Then only a small percentage of Americans are able to maintain a small standard of living in 2028.A time when opposition to the government is treason.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Jun 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781977266088

Karl Thomson

Karl Thomson was born in the 1930s into a family with deep Texas roots. In the 1960s, he decided to start a family, and flew bush planes in Alaska. In 1970, he decided to return back to Texas and start his own business as a gunsmith. Over the years, he developed his writing career, and was eventually asked to write for the American Gunsmith Magazine, which he did well into the 1990s. His love of history and his collections of family papers led him towrite Three Texas Rangers—The Republic of Texas—1836 to 1845 & A Russian in the American Army—WWII—The fighting 4th Infantry. 

Book preview

OVERVIEW

To understand this book, you must understand it was started during the Obama administration. As I watched major changes in people’s minds and in our government. In 2009 I and many others stood with the tea Party movement against many of the proposed plans of the so-called progressives to change our government into their way of thinking. Some of their ideas were good, many were not. By 2005 I had stopped gathering facts and started writing about America in the far off year of 2028 , 23 years into the future. Finishing, Not my house You Don’t I tried to get my book publish the old fashion way as I had done in the 1990’s with established publishers. Time changes things and a new form of publishing has taken over most of the new book publishing business. Now the new way is now producing far most of the new book. So, I wrote more popular and entertaining books The Texas Rangers and then A Russian in the American Army. Both historical novels based on many facts but rounded out into a novel. This new way is called self-publication by most. My problem with the new way is they do not invest any money in the books they publish by requiring the authors, or investors, to put up all the money and much of the work the authors have to do. Then you also pay them for the work they do. In 2015 I rewrote Not My House and updated it but could not afford to get it published. When Trump got elected in 2017 Many people thought that the idea of America wanting socialism was gone. By 2019 I was not so sure so I started updating again. When the Corona Various hit, I had to add this as well. Then, it was the same old problem Old liners were not interested and I did not have the thousands to spend my self.

When 2022 arrived, I determined to raise the funds to push this book as I really wanted to tell my side contrary to all those shouting Life is just going to get better and better until everything is perfect. I believe that only the American people can make America better and not a few super brains. Then I wrestled over the fact that 2028 might be to close. And we Americans will accept disaster in the far future and love our science fiction stories. We just will not accept the fact it might happen soon, Americans will just not accept the fact it might happen soon. Now after over ten years have passed and 2028 is only six years into the future. I thought I should try to change things to 2038 but there was no way I could change the facts and the story so, I going to publish it anyway. I have been told over and over you cannot sell this book as Americans will never accept a book about 2028. If you changed it and made bad things happen in 2078 Americans would like it as they love science fiction. Do not tell Americans that bad things might happen in their near future as they hate to think that way. It is my hope that some will take at least some of this book as thoughts to think about as I am now in my mid 80’s and am working on the other half of this book about the 2030’, 2040’s, 2050’s.

Thanks

Karl Thomson

1

SELF-DEFENSE

Hi, my name is Kenneth Thomas and I want to tell you about what happened to me in 2028. It all started on a cold but nice Sunday morning, January 23rd, 2028, with a light snow that had fallen during the night. My alarm went off at 6:30 A M like it always does, but it was Sunday so I hit the snooze button for a few more minutes of rest before pulling myself from under the warm covers. Made my way to my apartment bathroom for a shower and a beard trim. Even though I do this every day, today is Sunday and I am looking forward to going to church for another refreshing time for a few hours.

Since the quarterly company board meeting is on the eighth of this month things have been very busy. This is a new year and getting everything planed and organized for a large corporation is a lot of work. It is hard to believe that it was only seven years ago that Bill Williams, the C.E.O. of Oklahoma Gas and Oil had called me and asked if I would come to his ranch in Oklahoma to appraise his gun collection. That was before the revised assault weapons ban was installed in 2025 and Bill had an extensive gun collection. As it turned out it was a so large a collection that it took several days to finish the job. Spending those days together talking guns all day and about sports, business and whatever in the evenings we got to know each other quite well. Bill had asked me why I had sold my company in Houston and was now just traveling around appraising gun collection and other things. We talked a lot about company security and other things I had done to control thefts, both from inside and outside my company. As I was finishing up his appraisal Bill asked me if I would be interested in working for O.G.O. Security. We talked about it and I moved to Oklahoma.

At that time, I had no idea that probably the thing that really made him interested in me during our many conversations. These had covered my store ownership experiences in controlling shoplifting, petty crime and my run in with organized crime. These things might make a good security man, specially he big loss I had had to organized crime. Even back then Bill had told me that the reason I had lost so much was because organized crime knew all about me and the very rare gun collection, I had in my Katy store. He said you trusted the internet and computers and they knew every gun you had in your three stores and your ware house and even they knew the serial number of every gun. The look on my face told him I could not believe that. So, he briefly continued, there is no such thing as electronic security as organized crime owns it all.

He dropped that topic and continued that he appreciated how I had studied and fought back against organized crime in my own ways. The second thing was our discussions on what had happened to the United States during the year of 2020. Many people thought that the virus that had hurt the American people so much in health and the economy was the main problem of that year. When in fact it was when the counter political revolution, not of party against party as much as the superrich having so much and the people wanted their share. Then many wanted instant solutions to race, poverty and miss treatment that have gone on from the foundation of the world and they thought that a form of socialism would do this. This all came to the forefront as riots that as mixed in with simple protesters and this had partly destroyed the old America way of life. Then the other side got involved doing the very same thing. Like all evil it never presents itself as evil. Back then it was called protesting, and it was to start, but the movement was hijacked by rioters and anti-law and anti-government Marxist. Then the other side fought back demanding their way and it all made a big mess. Martin Luther King and others had protested and they never threw a rock at a police officer. Must less shot up police stations or tried to burn up cities. Bill was already looking for someone to help him and his company fight organized crime. I just did not realize it at the time, or fully understand it until after his death.

After church today I am going to drive to Bill’s house as he has asked me to, saying he wanted to talk about some things. Getting out of the shower and drying off, I wondered what he wanted to talk about, would it be about business. I had told him when we first talked about working for him seven years ago. I had told Bill then that I normally went to church on Sunday but I would work when I was really needed. However, when I did work on Sundays I would not accept pay on that day as Sundays were important to me. Bill had looked at me like I was an alien from another galaxy for a long moment then said OK, if that is the way you want it. Learning later that from that time on Bill called me Mr. Untouchable to his other friends, though he never said it to my face. Bill seldom asked me to work on Sundays but sometimes when security problems came up it was necessary.

Four years ago, the director of security quit and Bill made me director. This put us together even more and we became even better friends. Crime was steadily increasing so work was steadily increasing, so more and more week ends required work. After church today I am driving to Bills house as he said he wanted to talk to me about some things, but did not go into details. Getting out of the shower and drying off I wondered what Bill wanted, well knowing Bill it could be anything. There had been a lot of problems with theft and vandalism at work. There could also be other company business problems as bad as ours was, but I doubted it. Bill’s company came first with him, he was a workaholic just like his dad had been. Bills dad, Harry Williams had doubts about young William ever becoming the son that would grow up to be his business partner. Someone who could take over the business, like Harry wanted. Growing up William showed no interest in the family business or its history in the oil and real estate business. Harry was a pilot, while flying made Bill air sick and Harry was all business while Bill was all play. Of course we must remember Bill was still young and refused to grow up. As a child Bill liked playing with toy cars, trucks, boats and all kinds of sports. Bill really liked boats, really boats in Oklahoma. There was hardly enough water in Oklahoma to drink.

As a teenager Bill’s toy cars turned into real cars, very fast cars, and football, basketball, and other sports. Then of course there were girls, lot and lots of girls and this took up all his time. He was an average student with a few A’s lots of B’s and a little to many C’s. Harry worried about William’s college, however it was an unwarranted worry as William was smart, very smart. It was just that being young, good looking, and rich did not leave enough time for books. There was far too much fun to be had while being in a great school like Harvard.

When Bill was a junior at Harvard, he had a bad high-speed wreck in his Corvette sports car and nearly died. Seven months and several operations later Bill came home in a wheel chair and had been told he would never walk again. After many months of therapy Bill proved them wrong, but even until his last days he walked with a limp. Basically, he seemed to be good now for a man in his seventies, except for being overweight. As though I have any right to talk, being in my sixty’s and also being overweight. Neither of us are that much over weight just a few pounds but in the wrong place, around the belt line. Bill really changed through all his recovery. He did not get bitter or withdrawn as so many do. He accepted it and turned to what he could do with a battered body, he put his mind to work. His grandfather had been one of Oklahoma’s first oilmen and made millions when most working men only made a few dollars a week. Bill’s grandfather had used his money to buy farms, ranches, property, banks, other companies and of course oil fields. Then Bill became interested not only in the family business, but also the family history with the same enthusiasm that had made him into a great football player. Bill even took interest in all his granddads stacks of old photographs and piles and piles of artifacts that granddad had stacked in two barns at the family ranch. Harry, Bills dad, was an even a bigger collector than his dad had been, but in a different way.

Being a pilot in WWII he started collecting while stationed in England, mostly old guns and anything English. After the war ended Harry was kept in Europe for several months before being discharged. There were collectibles everywhere in England and Europe back then and the people were hurting for money. Collectibles were cheap and interesting so he was buying so much that his biggest problem was getting it all shipped back home. In the fifties and sixties Harry made several trips back to Europe specially to buy collectibles. Before the 1968-gun control act, guns were cheap to buy and easy to bring back into the USA. Harry bought a lot of guns along with other things. He had a big building behind his big house that was a reproduction of the main officers building at his air base in England and along with this he had built a copy of the hanger where his P-51 Mustang was housed in England and yes, he had bought a P-51 and had it painted just like the one he had flown in Europe during the war. In that hanger he also had a P-40 War Hawk like he had flown in the first part of the war. Plus, a British Spitfire that he had admired so much while in England. There were several other airplanes as well and as an ex-air force pilot myself, I was always very interested in these very old airplanes.

As I got out of the shower, I shaved my neck and trimmed my beard and then I realized that it was getting late and I moved faster to finish getting ready. I still slept with my Colt Cobra .38 revolver on my night stand beside my bed. Technically this was also illegal after the new socialist government changed the law again in 2027, just last year. This had started off with their again winning the democrat/socialist election of 2024 and most people thought the new president was going to change everything when they took over. If people could only realize that a president does not run the government, he is the figurehead that ever one sees. Our government is supposed to be in three equal parts. If two parts lean to the same goals, they control the government and can override the other part. We have an elected president not a King, non-the-less in our generation it does look like it. People see our president making executive decisions and signing them in public and we think they are all his ideas. Wrong, study history and talk to past presidents and most all of them carefully considered each decision with a multitude of counselors before announcing and signing executive orders. Who did and did not we will never know. Some of our strongminded presidents probably did more than others. If congress does not like an executive decision they can override it, so really who has the power? When Trump was elected for 2016 ½ of this country had a fit because they knew he was not a politician of the old school and wanted to change things. For four years he was called a bull in the China shop because he broke up a lot of special interest things. Look at history again, political parties want figureheads that mind the party so their agenda can be fulfilled. When Biden was elected for 2020 things slowly slipped back into to the old business as usual of special interest. The 2024 election changed many in congress and some thought that now things will be better. The American people had voted in far too many into congress that believed their ideas were better than what they knew the American people wanted. Such as control of Congressional spending, gun control, their idea of civil rights, of national wealth, and others.

The 2026 midterm elections strengthened them. Within weeks they passed the nationalization of the health care system. They told the people this would mean free medical care to every person on United States soil. In reality it meant that every person working in the health care system was instantly a federal employee and the federal government could set their wages, locations of employment, hours to work etc. Doctors and registered nurses started leaving the country like their shirt tails were on fire until the government made it illegal for medical staff to flee the country for the good of the people. This did not happen instantly just slowly. If they had received any federal funds or help in their education, then, For the good of the people it was illegal for them to leave the medical profession, unless they bought their way out. Socialism writes its own laws under the headline This is for the good of the country could Americans have ever believed the government could take away the right of an American to leave the country or change their jobs. In simple fact someone could leave the county, but must surrender everything they owned except what could be carried in a single suit case and no more than $10,000 in cash and other valuables. (Sane rules as NAZI Germany had in the late 1930’s) Only now no one could leave a job that had any connection to the government without government approval and then the government would assign you a new job at the pay they decided to give. Some of these jobs were at large government freedom work camps so the workers could be taught their duty to produce for the good of the people. Private ownership of stock in all pharmaceutical and medical companies or supplies was outlawed and the new government took totally control over them. Working or common people that owned stock in these companies simply lost it all. The billionaires, that were the real owners, were compensated for their loss and kept on in many cases to run these companies at supper high wages. The billions of dollars made by these companies never reached the public it went into the national treasury. In spite of this taxes on the working class were advanced every year, while social programs were decreased slowly.

The second big act was to raise minimum wage to $22.50 per hour and much of America cheered until within two months the price of a gallon of milk went to $9.80 and gasoline to $11. Interest rates also went to 18% that year. The big number three change which they passed was the reinstatement of the Clinton gun ban but with much tighter restrictions. This law was amended seven times in six months. Then every time a gun was used in a crime it was because the public still had guns. Every time a gun was used in a crime the News said the crime would not have happened if the gun had not existed. Signs that said No Guns – No Crime were more common than stop signs. Then they declared hand guns were not specifically mentioned in the second amendment so all handguns had to be turned in to be destroyed or used by law enforcement. Even police officers were not allowed to own handguns themselves. They now carried police issued revolvers as only the federal government could own any auto loading firearm or pump action gun of any type that had a removable magazine or tube holding ammunition. This was also when the federal government declared that every police agency that had over twelve officers had to have a federal political officer to oversee their department, for the good of the people. Many of these were nice people, some where you know what.

Another big change came slower, but had drastic effect on the whole nation. The new socialist government said our country had not given the people the freedom they should have. The war on drugs was basically disbanded, not by legalizing drugs, but cutting into law enforcements ability to enforce drug laws. This also included the court’s ability to enforce or prosecute any drug cases. Gangs have existed for as long as mankind, but in the last half of the twentieth century. New laws and law enforcement established anti-gang units that really cracked down on organized crime conducted by these gangs. Motorcycle outlaw gangs for one had risen to large scale operations and openly flaunted the law with drug running and assorted criminal mischief. Heavy crack down by law enforcement in the nineties practically drove these gangs out of existence. The new socialist government said that was discrimination and profiling and would now no longer be tolerated. If teenagers wanted to wear gang colors or signs they could not be looked upon as an organized group and only be looked at as individuals with the right to dress as they pleased. To stop and search one of these individuals was totally not allowed as that was profiling. A man in a business suit could be stopped if there was just cause. But a cop had better have proof before stopping a gang member or it was the cop that got into trouble as he had profiled.

The age of consensual sex had been dropped to thirteen nationwide. The amount of legal drugs on an individual was increased ten times before it was called a felony. The crazy thing was big time drug dealing was still illegal. But the right of the individual to do as they please could not be denied. As these same rules applied to motorcycle gangs they blossomed like a rose. Now going where they wanted and taking over whatever they wanted. A single member could be arrested when caught in the act of a crime, however no one else in the gang could even be questioned unless the officer had proof of their involvement directly. The gangs quickly realized that under the new rulings that if they beat the cop up It could be called, they had the right to defend themselves against police brutality. Unless the police outnumbered the gangs, it was hands off as people had the right to be free to do whatever they wanted to do, with only a few limitations. The amount of drugs on an individual was increased ten time before it was called a felony. These same rules applied to motorcycle gangs and they blossomed like a rose again. Going where and when and taking over whatever they wanted to. A single member could be arrested if caught in criminal act but no one else in the gang could even be questioned unless the officer had proof of his involvement directly.

Dropping a couple of waffles into the toaster, I locked my Colt in my wall safe, like the new law required and I finished getting dressed. A quick breakfast then, putting on my shoes, tie, jacket and out the door. Riding down the elevator to the parking garage of my apartment complex I wondered if I looked alright for church. As the elevator door opened the cold crisp air rushed into the elevator and it smelled and felt nice as I liked cold weather. Living in Alaska in the seventies there had been too much of it, then living in Houston for several years, there was not enough of it. Yes, I liked living in Oklahoma, the changing of the seasons is nice. It is not a long drive from my apartment to my church and pulling into the parking lot made me realize there is a penalty for being late. The lot was nearly full but I finally found a space and slid my SUV in to it. Looking at my watch it was five to nine and the early service started at nine. The problem here is the large parking lot has lots of snow mixed in with many tire tracks. As I am an older man that does not want to fall down with all that ice, my pace must be sturdy but careful. After about ten yards my problem was solved by a soft beep and I turned to see one of the churches elongated golf carts pulling up to me. Good morning, how about a ride, the driver said, and it never sounded better. Good morning and thank you, I said as I slipped into the last open seat. What these machines are really called I do not know, but they are great little gadgets. They are just a golf cart that is stretched out to hold ten people, what a great idea for churches.

Since I took the last seat, the driver headed for the church front door. As the cart stopped a young man reached out his hand with a good morning, God bless you, be careful of the ice, we have put sand on it, but it is still slick. Walking into the church I saw it was nearly full, and it took a few moments to find an empty seat. With the big push to get rid of religion in 2023-2024 this movement had back fired on the anti God crowd. Millions of Americans had stood up and demanded their right to worship their God as they saw fit and these people still had the right to vote. When the early service was over and I was walking back to my car the sun was shinning on the snow making everything very bright and clean. The snow was already beginning to melt a little and it was only ten thirty.

I thought what a beautiful day it is as I pulled out of the church parking lot, and headed for Bill’s house. As I pulled up to the security gate, I was surprised to see George Hamilton. George was one of Bill’s security men and was in the security shack, George was usually off on Sundays. While driving up to the security gate I had already taken my security pass card out and had it on the seat beside me to open the gate. I liked George, I guessed him to be in his late fifties, he had a bad limp and moved slow, I had heard through the grapevine at work that George had worked for the company and had been hurt very badly In a oilfield accident. Even though O.G.O. had given him a good pension, George did not like not going to work every day. When Bill heard about this, he put George to work as security at his house even as badly disabled as he was. As I rolled down my window I called out, Hi George, what are you doing working today, you are normally off on Sundays. Yes, I am, but Mr. Williams is expecting a delivery today and asked me to take the gate. With my grandson in collage, I need the overtime, George laughed.

As George hit the open switch and the gate slowly rolled open. I wondered if George had been named after the late George Hamilton, a very popular movie and TV star when George was born. It was only about four hundred yards from the gate to the house. The Williams house was known all over as, The Mansion. Harry Williams, Bill’s dad, had started building it after returning home from England. Harry’s squadron of P-51 Mustangs was stationed on an English Estate that had a large Manor house that dated back into the seventeen hundreds. Harry loved that huge old house and brought home the idea he was going to have one just like it, with modern options of course. It took five years to finish and get it just like Harry wanted it.

Bill’s town car was parked in front and I had no idea what size delivery truck was coming. As I did not want to get scratches on my SUV, I parked it to the side. Looking at the huge house I wondered what it would be like living here as a child. Bill and his sister had done that, well Bill had, and Bethany had until she was six when her mother had taken her back to New York City. Beth’s mother, Norma was from a prominent, old money New York City family with generations of family ties to New York. Harry had met Norma at Harvard University and it had been love at first sight. However, Harry had always loved flying and gotten his private pilot’s license when he was sixteen. Harry’s dad had bought him his own Stenson airplane upon Harry’s getting his pilots license. By Christmas of 1942 Harry announced he was leaving Harvard and had already joined the Army air force. In late 1943 Harry was flying P-40’s then P-51 Mustangs, protecting eighth air force bombers over Europe. Harry and Norma never stopped writing each other. They were married in New York City in 1946 and moved to Oklahoma City. Now Oklahoma City was a fine City in 1946 but it was a major culture shock for a girl that was raised in New York City by prominent parents. Beth and her mother had spent many of their summers in Europe before the war and life was so different for her in Oklahoma. Oklahoma’s new money crowd was very different from New York’s old money people. I guess it finally was just too much and Norma went back to New York and took Bethany with her.

Walking up to the front door and ringing the bell, it was only a moment before Anna the maid opened the front door and said, Mister Williams is in the study, he is expecting you. Walking through the large receiving room to the study, I knocked on the large heavy ancient oak door, and a few seconds later Bill opened it and it made a small squeak, Bill said, got to get some oil on that, Hi Butch. Butch had been my nick name from childhood, and I said, how old is that door? I would squeak too if I was as old and heavy as it is, it must weigh two hundred pounds and those hinges must be the originals. Bill said they are supposed to be original and about three hundred years old. When dad had then shipped over in the late forties, he was not always sure that everything the sellers were saying was true. Weight, I am not sure, but think you are probably right, come on in. Before we eat, I want to ask you about my British Sten gun, I understand you used to have one. As we walked over to one of several gun racks, I am thinking to myself why does Bill call this his study? It is his arsenal, office and security room, there are more guns in here than some gun stores have. Bill picked up his Sten from his gun rack, opened the breach, checked the action for ammo, and handed it to me. Saying to me how could this simple piece of scrap iron be one of the most successful sub-machine guns of WWII. Smiling I said, you answered your own question, it is simple and cheap, but it works.

When Britain pulled its troops out of Dunkirk, they left a large portion of England’s weapons in France. England was desperate to get fighting weapons, and they needed them fast and cheap. WWI had taught the value of heavy machine guns as tens of thousands of British troops had fallen before them. Now at the start of WWII no army anywhere saw much value in hand held sub-machine guns. The German lightning war with fast moving troops began to teach new war facts. Britain saw the need for large numbers of firearms. Three things screamed at this nation, get guns quickly, with little money and with little time. Only one answer in two parts, simple means fast, simple means cheap. During the war Britain was able to produce over twenty thousand Sten’s in only one week. All at a cost of just a little over four American dollars each. Bill held up his hand, whoa, enough history for today, then he laughed, and said I know you are a history nut, but let’s eat. Well Bill you did ask the question so I had to answer it. As we walked out the study door, Butch again heard the squeak and the sound of the large old lock locking, Bill never left his study unlocked. Together they walked through the receiving room into the great room, then next into the dining room where Hilda was putting food on the table. Hilda was a great cook, but Bill was on a very restricted diet, and I needed to be. It is amazing how Hilda can make diet food taste so good. We did not talk a lot during lunch as even diet food prepared by Hilda was the best meal of the week.

As we were finishing up lunch Bill asked how our farm and ranch projects were coming along. As we talked about improvements that needed to be made, we went back into the study, where his home office was and started pulling up computer files to look at things concerning these issues. As we were discussing what we were looking at the security alarm over the security desk went off, followed a second later by all four lights above the security desk coming on. The red light designated intruder alert, the yellow light saying the police were being called, the blue light said the gate was opening and the orange light that 911 was being called. Bill rushed to the security desk and hit a button that changed the picture of the front gate from a small screen to the big center screen between the twelve smaller screens surrounding the large screen. As the big screen flashed on the view of the front gate as it slowly starting to open while a number of men were around the security shack. When the gate opened enough, motorcycles started though and the wider it opened the faster more motorcycles and two trucks started through. When the red light above the security desk had come on so, did the very loud house alarm bells start going off outside.

John Thourson Bills driver/bodyguard, and Jose, the mansions handyman, were in the kitchen with the maid and cook finishing their lunch when the alarm sounded. John had jumped up and headed for the study, knowing Bill would be there, and knowing that was where the big guns still were. Guns that old were still classified as curio and relics. Being classed as obsolete collectors’ pieces when properly registered and stored they were exempt from the new gun laws just like other museum pieces are. After a moment of stunned surprise, Bill ran to the gun rack and picked up a 1928, hundred-year-old, Thompson forty-five caliber sub-machine gun with a fifty round drum magazine already on the gun. He pulled the charging handle back and loaded the chamber, and said NOT MY HOUSE YOU DON’T. By this time, I was picking up a WWII Russian PPs while John was coming through the study door. He took one glance at the big security screen and grabbed an old Vietnam series M16 off the rack along with a belt of magazines, and without a word he was gone. Then Jose comes through the study door and Bill grabbed a WWII riot pump shotgun and a box of 12ga. shells. Handing them to Jose, Bill told him to tell the women to get upstairs and lock themselves in. Jose, you go to the end of the hall and stand around the corner at the bottom of the back stairs and do not let any of these bastards get to the women, Bill instructed. Jose also was gone in a Flash and I pulled open the breach of the PPs to make sure the drum magazine was loaded. How many rounds were in the magazine I had no way of knowing, but it was loaded. Then I picked up a 1935 Beretta pistol off Bill’s pistol rack, I did take the time to check it for ammo. Then I just stuck it in my belt and followed Bill out the door. Bill was standing by the door as I rushed past him and I thought to myself why did he stop, then I heard the big door squeak shut and the old lock click and I knew why. There was no way Bill was going to let those gang members just walk in and take all those guns. From the door I could see a flood of gang members pouring into the large gathering room firing their guns. Some of their guns were fully automatic sub machine guns, some were assault rifles and many were pistols.

Then the M16 John had taken began to roar, and inside the house it was indescribable loud. The gang instantly began returning fire with their machine guns, rifles and pistols. Then it felt like a wasp stung my shoulder and I realized some of the gang was shooting at me, as well as at John. That sting was a bullet not a wasp regardless of how it felt. I pulled the trigger on the PPs and held it back until the sub machine gun stopped bucking. It only takes thirteen seconds for a PPs to fire all the seventy-one rounds it holds. While I was holding the trigger back it felt like someone hit me in the head with a hammer. When my gun stopped firing, I heard the last few rounds of Bills Thompson go off. My head hurt, my ears were roaring and I could not move my left arm without it feeling like it was being hit with nonstop electric shocks. The sight in front of me was indescribable, a bus load of humanity that had been trying to kills us was now laying on the floor and doorway of the large receiving room. It looked like someone had come in with a five-gallon bucket of bright red paint and poured it all over the floor and the mass of bodies in that large receiving room. Some bodies were moving, many were not. Some were trying to stand up and then another gunshot rang out, and I raised my PPs and pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. Dropping the PPs I pulled the Beretta from my waist when another bullet whizzed past my head. A gang member was partly up, but on his knees rather than his feet but was less than fifteen feet from me but was badly wounded covered in blood and too unsteady to shoot with enough accuracy to hit me yet. Not giving him time to try again, I fired two shots from the Beretta and he slumped to the floor. Looking around to see if anyone else was trying to kill me. Some were moving but seemed much too involved with pain to carry on the fight. No other gun was pointed at me so I looked around to check on Bill and I did not see him. Then I saw him lying on the floor next to the wall, his shirt was covered with blood, and his hand was barely moving. Making my way to Bill I dropped to one knee and he said Butch and held out his hand to me, surprisingly in his hand he had his key ring, keep my house safe he said and passed out.

Bill needed medical help now, so I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and tried to dial 911. It took me three tries as my hand was shaking so badly, and the other hand was useless. It took a long time for 911 to answer and while waiting I wondered about why my hand was shaking, and the other arm was useless. This was so strange, before the first shots were fired, when those pistols were starting to point at me, fear gripped me, but my hands did not shake as I pulled the trigger, they did not shake, while I used the Beretta my hands did not shake, now I could hardly hold the cell to my ear my hand was shaking so bad. Finally, what is your emergency brought me back to earth and I shouted, Bill Williams has been shot, we are at 93742 Oldan Road please hurry! A voice said, stay on the line [then a long pause] Sir police and ambulances are already on their way to your location. I started to get up, but it was not so easy, my left arm did not work. When I leaned over Bill with my blood running down from my head into my left eye, and my body just did not want to work. After a moment I leaned against the wall and used it to help me get up and I started to make my way to the front door. If ambulances were already at this address, where are they? They had to arrive quickly or Bill was going to die. It was not easy to do as there were many bodies in the way, both living and dead so I had to pick my way through. While doing so there was another gunshot and some one hit me hard in my back with what felt like a baseball bat. Turning back into the room there was another gang member was pointing a shaking pistol at me. The picture was much the same as last time only he was still laying down and on his side. In spite of his condition, he was still trying to kill me. I pulled the Beretta again and fired two more shots. Turning back toward the door I said to myself, my hand did not shake, and then ever thing went black.

The next thing I remembered was cops pulling me though the front door and a medic bending over me. I was trying to tell her that Bill needed help, that he was at the back of the big room by the east wall right across from the stairs. While she was looking at my head, she passed the information about Bill to another medic that had just come up. It was not long before two men were carrying Bill on a stretcher came out and put him in an ambulance. Several more stretchers came out with gang members on them. Now I was being moved away from the door a short way, and the medic told me that she wanted a doctor to see me before I was moved again. She had given me a couple of shots and bandaged my wounds so I was not feeling too bad. I wondered what was so wrong that they would not move me without a doctor’s approval.

Then one of my security men, that I knew and trusted completely arrived. Giving him Bills keys I told him everything I knew about what Bill wanted and what security needed to do. My security guy brought over a Police Captain to me and I told him to please secure the millions of dollars’ worth of collectibles in the house. Then I told him that Joe had the house keys and that he would unlock the locked doors to check the rooms out, then re-lock them. The Captain said, Give me the keys, I cannot allow a civilian into my crime scene. No, I said, Joe is an officer with O.G.O. police, a fully state certified police department and in charge of O.G.O. property including this house. The Captain still said I cannot allow it, you will have to do it my way. Wounded or not my temper began to rise and I said, Bill Williams is a personal friend of the governor. Then looking at my man Joe, I said, call the governor and tell him what is going on. Tell the governor this Captain is refusing to obey another higher-ranking officer in another department. Looking back at the Captain, I said, the Governor’s office will tell you I am right, and you will be out of a job this time next week I guarantee it, the Captain walked off very unhappy. Then the long-awaited Doctor arrived and I expected him to check my head or my shoulder, however he had medics carefully roll me over and inspected my back and hip. After a while he had me strapped in some sort of stretching harness and had me loaded into an ambulance.

In the ambulance I remember them putting an IV in my arm and the rough ride to the hospital. The next thing I remember is being surrounded by doctors and hospital personnel, tubes, machines of all types, there was an oxygen mask over my face, and a second IV was in my right arm. My left arm was strapped down and the doctors were working on my left shoulder. My right hip hurt like hell, in fact it felt like my whole body had been run over by a sixteen-wheeler. Upon opening my eyes, a very pretty nurse asked me if I could hear her? Nodding my head yes, she asked the worlds stupidest question? Do you need more pain medication?

It was Tuesday afternoon before I woke up again. Now it was my head that hurt the most, and the slightest movement brought new surges of pain. A nurse rushed to my bed when I moaned and I heard her say he is awake. Closing my eyes again to make the pounding in my head go away and it did not work. Feeling a hand on my forehead and a finger pulling my eye lid open brought my mind back to reality. Looking up into the face of a very young doctor, he continued to look me over, then turned to the nurse and said he looks good, hopefully the swelling in his brain will start decreasing. He turned back to me and said in a matter-of-fact tone, the bullet that hit your head just grazed your skull. You took a pretty hard hit, but it did not even crack the bone structure. The blow was hard enough that it has resulted in significant swelling of your brain. The swelling is what we are concerned with for now; however, it appears to be holding its own, at least for now. We were worried about permanent brain damage, or long-term coma, but you are lucky you have a hard skull. We will keep a watch on things for a couple of days but it looks good, turning back to the nurse he said it might be a while before the other doctors get here so go ahead and let the family come in and only two at a time.

With that he walked out and the nurse straightened the oxygen tubes in my nose. When I tried to speak only a squeak came out. I tried to clear my throat and that made my throat feel like it was on fire. Trying to lift my right hand I realized it was tied down. The nurse put a cool hand on mine and with her other hand pulled the Velcro strap loose. Easy, do not move your arm much and do it slowly. Rubbing your throat will not help as you had tubes in it during both of your surgeries. It will get better soon, just do not rub it yet, let it heal a little while first. How is Bill I squeaked out softly? She looked at me sadly and said, I do not know, he has been in and out of surgery for two days and is in critical condition. Maybe we will know something in a day or two. We will get your family now and turned for the door. Before she got there, I squeaked out a little louder this time, and the others? She turned to looked at me again and just looked for several moments, then softly said ask the doctors and she was gone.

A few moments later two of my daughters, Karlin and Reachale came into the small ICU room, they both had grieved faces, and tear-stained swollen eyes. As they approached the hospital bed they both asked the same question in unison Dad, how are you? Karlin said, the nurse said we could come in for a little while if we did not touch you and only two at a time. Reachale said, I do not care I am going to kiss my daddy and leaned over and softly kissed me on my forehead, then Karlin did the same. My voice was still strained but I answered, I will be alright. Karlin walked to the right side of my bed, while Reachale remained on my left side. Karlin said, Daddy, we love you so much you just have to get well. Reachale asked, what had happened and I told her that the doctor had said that I had been shot in the head, in the shoulder, and in the back, but the prognosis was looked good. If the swelling of my brain goes down my head will be alright, but they are not sure if I will ever be able to walk again. I tried to explain some of what had happened but it was so hard to talk.

Then a doctor walked in with an assistant and told the girls they could come back later if I was doing all right. Turning back to me he said, I am Doctor Chan, I did the surgery on your chest Sunday night and you are the luckiest man I have ever seen. The bullet missed your heart by only five millimeters, missing all major arteries and veins. It missed both front and rear ribs except a small chip out of the rear rib, it missed tendons and did little damage to muscle tissue then passed out your back in one piece as there were no other pieces of it in