It hadn't seemed possible that a president whose policies had impoverished millions could be reelected. It was the waning years of the American empire and the liberties represented in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights were a fading memory. The government monitored every aspect of American life, and the drones buzzing overhead served as a constant reminder, but it was the governments reckless spending that brought the nation to its knees. Now, the economy is in ruin, and the president's European style welfare state stands at the brink of collapse. The United States is unable to repay its debts. China has come seeking payment in real assets, and they mean business. Chaos reigns; power has been cut; select cities have been decimated by nuclear bombs; and burned out houses occupy neighborhoods like rotting teeth in the mouth of a crack addict. What was new is now old and what was old is now new again. Cliffson Lang's son attempts to escape the fires and mobs overrunning the city of Seattle. When Cliffson is called away to help, his other son is kidnapped by occupying forces and placed in a work camp. Truth's Blood is the Lang family's story of survival at a time when government dependency must be replaced by self-reliance. As the United States experiences the disintegration of society and foreign occupation, their challenge verges on the impossible.

Auszug. � Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Truth's Blood

By TYLER ROBERTS

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright � 2013 Tyler Roberts
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-6678-7

Chapter One

There is a Latin proverb—"Mundus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur". "The world wants to be deceived, so let it be deceived."

Once again I find myself here, resting on the old grey steps of this farm house. Reflecting on all that has happened and what lies before me, I pause a moment and listen to the darkness around me. I want to absorb it all and take it with me, for I do not expect to see this place again.

In the end, the nuclear bombs weren't the worst of it, for the holocaust was not what people anticipated. But the economic collapse, starvation and ghastly executions went far beyond anything imagined. The blade that severs life and divides our future from the past still glints an evil eye across the landscape and I think only of the fate being left to my sons.

The stars shine as brilliantly tonight as they did in ancient times. With the twinkle of an eye they greet. We were partners, they and I, witnesses to things no man should be required to bear. Much more than me, they were a constant in the maelstrom. So I assemble here late this night, to abide again with the one companion who has observed my struggle, endured as I have endured and seen what I have witnessed. For nothing is left untouched, except the stars.

The rustling leaves of the poplar stir my soul and the siding on this old house cracks and pops in the cooling air, relaxing, breathing easier. Once a thriving farm on the outskirts of town, it was abandoned when the city expanded, bringing a halt to its country way of life.

In another age, another time, I used to ride my bike down the lane, past these quarters, often waving to the couple who worked the potato fields here. It's a pleasant memory and in my mind's eye I still see them standing not far from where I now sit. For reasons I've never understood, the land this house rests upon was not developed and I wonder if it wasn't meant to remain for these times, just as I was destined to survive.

A sea of housing flows past me on three sides and laps at the front door steps, leaving only the single field behind. An enormous church sits across the intersection. Though in need of paint, the boards sorely worn, it remains untouched and for that I am glad. The surrounding sub-divisions are filled with burned out houses, shallow graves and lost souls. The people who remain resemble the sub-divisions themselves—beat up, lifeless, worn and weathered.

The church and this farmhouse sit at the intersection of town and country, much as they sat at the crossroads of both unspeakable trials and compassionate moments of sacrifice and friendship. Their constant, unchanging nature comforts and I employ the peace they bring—a balm for my aching mind and dying body.

Now the first streaks of sunlight stretch fingers of orange and grey across the eastern sky and I am reminded that I sit astride two centuries, though not as centuries marked on a calendar. What was new is now old and what was old is now new. The day will come when these people look out upon a new dawn and a day without the bridle, the whip or the execution, though the saddle of remorse will remain. I wonder if they will attempt to rebuild what was, or if they have learned not to repeat the same mistakes. Oh how I wish it were true, but history, that wise old sage, will argue otherwise.

I have been left here for reasons unknown. A quirk of fate, unseen hand, or crack in time allowed me to slip through the grip that wrenched our nation's soul to sift bone from sinew, father from son and hell from the pit. Just how it is I remain, an old man, left over from another time, I do not know.

My horse whickers, as if to remind me time is short and I must go. Though regret would bind me to this place, there is one job still required of me. Muley stomps his feet as I move to untie the reins and I leave you now to join my eldest son.

Chapter Two

"I hope our wisdom will grow with our power and teach us that the less we use our power the greater it will be."

Thomas Jefferson

Chen was growing anxious to leave the god-forsaken ground where fate had abandoned him these many long months. He was tired of the dust and the parched landscape with its prickly vegetation that grabbed at him wherever he went. The tented awning under which he sat provided shade but only modest relief from the heat. He longed for the warm, moist climate and lush vegetation of his home in Southeast Asia.

Lazily swatting at the ever present flies, Chen withdrew a photograph from his attach� case and gazed longingly at the dark haired beauty smiling back at him. They came from two different worlds; hers, affluent and well appointed; his, poor and wanting. Even so, and against the will of her parents, they'd kept their relationship alive. Chen had vowed that somehow he would acquire the wealth needed to win her parent's approval. It wasn't going to be found in this forlorn and desolate border post in northern Mexico, but he was working on a plan.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden rush of feet and salute of his communications officer.

"Relax Kang. What has you so excited?"

"The orders, sir."

Chen leaned back in his chair, read the hastily scribbled note and closed his eyes for a moment. Upon opening them he gazed into the distance, towards the southern border of the United States.

Exhaling loudly, Chen returned to the moment. "Finally Kang, our moment of redemption draws near." Chen reached for his attach� case to retrieve two small glasses and a bottle of scotch. After pouring the drinks, he offered one to Kang.

"Really, sir?"

Chen simply nodded and raised his glass in a toast. "To success and to returning home." The men tossed back their drinks and Kang returned to his station. Chen poured himself another drink in an attempt to control his impatience for the night's events to begin.

Finally, the wait is over. Tonight we infiltrate the U.S. and prepare to pay them back for the wrongs perpetrated on mighty China.

* * *

Shortly after midnight, at the Animas Valley border patrol outpost in New Mexico's Bootheel, Buzz Peterson poured two cups of coffee and stepped into the communications room. His partner's growing agitation was out of character.

"Steven what's going on?"

"I can't believe what's happening. Seven border patrol stations are under attack.

"Are you sure?"

"It's all over the radio. Every available unit including the National Guard is being called in to assist."

The lights dimmed as the stations power switched to battery backup.

"Power's out Buzz, we'd better go ...

Explosions rocked the building and a fire burst into flame in the kitchen. Heavy caliber bullets were pounding the station's bullet proof glass as Buzz and Steven crawled through the smoke towards the backdoor. Then the backdoor exploded in a blaze of brimstone and light. Buzz and Steven lay dead.

* * *

Chen relaxed in a canvas backed chair smiling to himself and rubbing his hands with delight. Everything was going exactly as planned. The Americans were in a panic and confusion reigned across the airwaves. Soon the order would come to send in his aircraft and their mission would be complete.

Chapter Three

"Government is not reason, it is not eloquence; it is force! Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master."

George Washington

Scattered gray clouds rode across the sky on a chill zephyr born of winter, while a cool breeze...

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