The journey was daunting—over 30 hours of nonstop driving from our hideout in North Texas to the Washington State capital, Olympia. Pat was in the lead, steering the first of five vehicles, each loaded with enough firepower to hold back a small army. Behind us, trailing by twenty minutes for strategic advantage, was a second convoy of six more vehicles. Altogether, we had over fifty of our people ready to face down tyranny. The militia allies coming in from across the country numbered more than twelve hundred, all aligned and ready to make a stand. Even Steve Bannon’s folks were joining by the hundreds, committed to stopping the first state from slipping into gun confiscation and determined to save the Republic, no matter the cost.
After the initial twenty minutes of driving, silence settled over our vehicle. Each of us drifted into our own thoughts, the weight of the journey pressing down like the gathering storm clouds. In the lead car were Ben up front, Luke sitting across from Pat, and Peter Hanson—one of our more unpredictable allies. Peter was once suspected to be a Fed, especially with the constant stream of racially charged nonsense that came out of his mouth. Sometimes, he sounded so much like a plant, almost baiting us. But after a rough test we put him through, Peter proved himself. His heart was in the right place; he was just an idiot on certain topics. And in times like these, revolutions and all, sometimes you have to let certain things slide. Our tent was wide, embracing all those ready to fight, flaws and all.
Pat broke the silence first, directing his question at Ben. “Hey, you get ahold of Ray and his guys? What’s their ETA?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, they’ll be in Olympia about four hours before us, linking up with the Oregon boys. They’ll have numbers, too.”
Pat grunted in approval. “Good.”
There was a pause, and Pat glanced at Ben, noticing his far-off expression. “You good? You look like you’ve got something heavy on your mind.”
Ben sighed, a flicker of worry crossing his face. “It’s Beth… her dreams. They scare me sometimes. Did I ever tell you about her dream a while back? About finding a purple iPhone in a shopping cart at Walmart?”
Pat raised an eyebrow, and even Peter, who usually seemed oblivious, leaned in slightly, intrigued.
“She woke me up in the middle of the night about it, maybe a year ago,” Ben continued. “Said it was so vivid—she could describe every detail, even the exact Walmart on Preston where we shop.”
Luke turned to him, skeptical but interested. “And?”
“We went to that Walmart the next day. You know, just for fun, to see if anything would happen.” Ben paused, the weight of what he was about to say hanging in the air. “So, she tells me to go grab a cart while she’s off smelling the flowers in the garden section. I grabbed one with a few flyers in the basket. I took them out… and there it was.”
Luke’s eyes widened. “No freakin’ way!”
Pat looked like he was forgetting to breathe, his face turning a shade of red as he processed the story. Luke gave him a nudge on the arm. “Breathe, man.”
Pat sucked in a deep breath, fighting against the emotion rising within him. This was the last person any of us expected to get teary-eyed, but even he couldn’t shake off the unease. Finally, he said, almost in a whisper, “I’m starting to think this might be my last long car ride, guys…”
The silence that followed felt different this time. Beth’s dreams weren’t just haunting Ben now; they were casting a shadow over all of us, a reminder that we were on a road we might never return from.
Ben took in a deep breath, his voice low. “I miss her. Beth.”
Normally, an admission like this might have thrown everyone off, but in this car, with these men, it didn’t. Pat let out a dry, uneasy laugh, glancing back at the road. “You know, she’s always loved you, Ben. You two breaking up for the umpteenth time gave me a chance to step in, and, well, we started dating again. I knew you were okay with it, but… yeah. She loves you. And, somehow, she loves me too.”
Ben exhaled, shaking his head. “Life is complicated sometimes.”
Luke nodded, grounding them. “As long as we keep our heads straight and stick together, we’ll make it through. Soon, we’ll all be relaxing in a free America.”
Ben gave a small smile, tempered with caution. “Maybe… maybe not.”
Pat jerked his head back, surprised. “What? You don’t think we’ll win?”
“Not that part,” Ben quickly clarified. “I have zero doubt we’ll win in the end. But combat—it’s full of variables. There’s always an x-factor, no matter what anyone says. Remember that saying we used to throw around at Whatfinger? ‘Even the best-laid plans turn to hell when exposed to reality.’”
Pat chuckled. “Ah, yeah, that’s classic Mal Antoni. You know our Mal—Sgt. A was never really a sergeant. They busted him down to private so many times he gave up. Too much insubordination. Too much honesty.” He paused, a hint of pride. “It’s refreshing, though. You always know where you stand with Mal. He just… says it. And he loves a good fight. I used to love his podcasts before Yahoo shut down his channel, erasing all his work. He tried to pick it up again on Rumble, but it was never quite the same.”
Luke added, “Yeah, but he’s posted a lot of great clips lately. It’s been cool to see he’s still at it. We’ve all been so busy, though…”
Ben’s gaze drifted out the window, his thoughts miles away. Peter spoke up, breaking the reflective silence. “Why isn’t he here with us?”
Pat started to answer, but Luke cut in. “Mal had a radial keratotomy—an RK. It’s this old procedure they used for nearsightedness, back before LASIK. He had it done so he could get into the NYPD academy, but it messed up his eye. His shooting eye.”
Peter shook his head. “That sucks. Guess he can stick to shotguns then.” They laughed, the tension easing with the thought.
“Yeah, shotguns work if you’re up close,” Luke said. “But in a fight, we’re talking three to six hundred meters, at least. With Ben here, it’s more like a thousand, maybe twelve hundred.”
Peter nodded with a grin. “I’ve made money betting on Ben a few times. Guy never misses.”
Pat laughed. “Except when I’ve got a hundred bucks riding on it. Then he’s all over the place.”
Ben covered his face, chuckling. “See, I knew you’d bring that up.”
Luke laughed, and Peter’s curiosity was piqued. “What’s that mean?”
“Yeah, tell him, Ben,” Pat urged. “We’re in for a long drive—might as well spill it. Just don’t tell me you took any of that stuff before getting in the car…”
Ben smirked. “It’s nothing crazy. It’s prebiotic fiber. It’s digested by your gut microbiome. Dr. Gundry calls them ‘gut buddies.’ They eat it, not us.” He shrugged, half-amused. “I actually learned about it from Mal. He had this video up on fasting that Yahoo didn’t censor since there was no politics in it. He explained it all—anyone can fast for seven days or more, drop fifteen pounds easy, if they follow the right steps. Coffee with a tablespoon of ghee, MCT oil, and some prebiotic fiber. The MCT oil has to be a specific kind, like MCT8 or MCT10, but you can look up the details on YouTube. Just search for News Variable, Mal Antoni, Whatfinger. But you know how it is; YouTube doesn’t want you seeing anything Mal does. Same with Whatfinger. Rumble is always a better option since he transferred some vids there early on when there was still no audience for his channel.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “So… how does that help with fasting?”
Ben explained, “Most of our hunger comes from the microbiome. If you feed them, you won’t feel hungry. By day two, your body goes into ketosis. If you’re hungry, just down some decaf coffee—caffeine’s only good before noon—add some MCT oil and prebiotic fiber, and in a couple of minutes, you’re set. Hunger gone. That’s how the pros do it.”
Peter nodded, impressed. “So, you’re a genius or something?”
Luke chuckled, answering for him. “He is. IQ of 156. Same as Einstein, right?”
Ben waved it off. “What’s IQ worth when we’re all human and emotional? Let’s drop it.”
Peter grinned. “Fine, let’s talk about your favorite topic—Star Trek. I know all three of you are fanatics. I wasn’t a fan, but I remember a couple of episodes that made me laugh, like the one with the Space Jews on the Enterprise…”
Ben looked over at Pat. “Uh-oh. Racist BS alert…”
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Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6 page 1
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Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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Hey, Sgt. K here—also known as CK Sheldon. I’ve got one book published on Amazon as part of a trilogy, though only the first is currently available due to editing challenges. I’m working on bringing the other two books back, using ChatGPT to refine them, and I’ll likely add this new book there, too, if there’s interest. Since this isn’t about profit for me, you can always read it here on Whatfinger News for free, complete with the original links.
For anyone interested, my Amazon book is Allfather Saga. Fair warning: it’s a mix of science fiction, politics, and a bit of mature content. And yes, Trump makes an appearance in Book 3, though the story is set far into the future.
Untraceable phone – you need to see this Glenn Beck Vid with Erik Prince – See You Have a TRACKER in Your Pocket Sending Data to the Deep State – might be the MOST important vid you see this year – might save your life folks – your kids too – you’ll get it and the details will freak you out. It did me. … Sgt Pat
https://unplugged.com/ is Prince’s company.
