The Union Creek Journal

A Chronicle of Survival

Shock & Awe

The FEMA camp that had become General Wei’s headquarters was a hive of activity.  Wei sat on the rooftop of the former high school, an umbrella shading him from the warm May sun.  As he sipped a sweetened ice tea, Wei watched with approval as his own troops combined their efforts with the men under Lanigan’s command.  Surprisingly, despite the language barrier, the groups were working together quite effectively.  A handful of the Chinese U.N. troops were capable English translators.  Their abilities enabled the two groups to work together in a relatively seamless fashion.  None of the Americans spoke either Mandarin or Cantonese.

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The Musings of Wei

After Lanigan left his quarters, General Wei picked up his snifter and swirled the warm liquid, watching as the light played in the intricate colors of the 20 year-old bijiu.  Wei inhaled deeply and then took a sip allowing it to play over his tongue and then down his throat.  The general raised the glass, as if in a toast, and followed the first sip with another.

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Pitcher Full

Pitcher turned his head as far to his right as it would go and then pressed on his jaw to stretch the muscles and ligaments in his neck.  It had been nearly six months since the Blackhawk crash that broke his neck.  Of course, there had been no X-rays to show the damage to his vertebrae, but the pain and temporary paralysis had been evidence enough.

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May 5, 2015: Alliance

Tanner and his crew are back from their “undisclosed location”.  The three trucks we loaned them were loaded down so heavily that I thought the springs would collapse.  I offered to loan them my gooseneck trailer too, but they thought that would attract too much attention.  As it turns out, wherever they went, they didn’t encounter too many people.  Tanner said they had a couple small run-ins, but nothing of consequence – certainly nothing on the order of their run-in on the southern edge of the Union Creek area.

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The Armory

Gravel crunched under the tires of the big diesel pickup.  Tanner braked the truck to a stop and leaned forward, his arms crossed over the top of the steering wheel.  Behind him, two more pickups rolled to a stop.  The wear indicators on the brakes of the middle trucked squealed slightly signaling that it was time to replace the pads.

Tanner looked up at the sky and noticed a Red Tailed Hawk circling overhead.  The sun glinted on the windshield causing the big man to squint even though he was wearing polarized sunglasses.

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The Beginning

Lawrence Lanigan gave Schmidt’s body a shove with his boot.  The body flopped over face up as Schmidt’s daughter screamed through the duct tape covering her mouth.  The girl shook free of the two men holding her arms, stumbled and then rolled over to her father’s body.  She put her head on his chest sobbing.

“Get her back in the Hummer,” Lanigan ordered the three men standing near the rear of the HMMWV.

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On the Nose

Wind rushed through the open cargo area of the Blackhawk as Manny accelerated away from the airstrip.

Pitcher attempted to shout over the noise, “We need to finish these guys off!”

Manny looked back over his shoulder, shook his head and tapped his ear.

Pitcher made a circling motion with his right hand, mimed a two-handed firing position in the general direction of his M240 and then pointed toward the cabin and mimicked the motion of firing rockets from the pilot and co-pilot controls.

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May 2, 2015: Road Signs

There’s kind of a buzzing in the back of my head that just won’t let up.  The humming seems to be slowly creeping forward toward the front of my brain immediately behind my eyes.  It’s as if a hive of bees made their home inside my head.

They’re constantly working, those bees, building their hive larger and larger every hour.  My eyes are burning and my vision is a little blurry.

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Center Punch

Lawrence Lanigan sat on the hood of his newly acquired HMMWV cleaning his fingernails with his pocket knife.  As he flicked the crud from the blade of his knife, he watched a lone figure trudge wearily in his direction.  Three of Lanigan’s men stood, rifles at the ready, eyes peeled watching for any sign of trouble.  Lanigan didn’t expect Marcus Schmidt to cause any trouble, but it never paid to be careless.

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Glenn Beck Campaign

Many of you have suggested that I should find a publisher for The Journal.  As The Journal draws to a close, that consideration has risen higher on my radar.  Once the final entries are wrapped up, The Journal will be available in its entirety for Kindle via Amazon and for the Nook via Barnes & Noble’s Nook Book Store.  I also plan to work on a PDF version for those with neither a Kindle nor a Nook.

I’ve also identified a handful of publishers with whom I would like to work to produce a paperback version of The Journal.  As many of you know, Glenn Beck partnered with Simon & Schuster last year to launch Mercury Ink.  Mercury Ink’s goal is to “discover, publish and promote books and authors that Glenn is passionate about across a variety of genres.”  I believe The Journal and Mercury Ink would make a great match.

Unfortunately, Mercury Ink does not accept unsolicited manuscripts.  Of course, much like survival in the new normal, where there is a will, there is a way.  You, the readers of The Journal, can help Glenn and Mercury “discover” The Union Creek Journal.

“How?” you may ask.  It’s really quite simple.  Go straight to the top.  Send Mr. Beck an e-mail.  As one might expect, Glenn receives hundreds of e-mails a day.  But, what if he received hundreds of e-mails in a single day all with the subject, “The Union Creek Journal”?  Somewhere between 4000 and 5000 people read The Journal every day.  Do you suppose Glenn Beck would take a look at The Journal if he received four or five thousand e-mails all titled “The Union Creek Journal”?  I’m betting that he would.

Mr. Beck’s e-mail address is me@glennbeck.com.

If you would like to see The Journal published by Mercury Ink, simply click on the link above, put The Union Creek Journal in the subject line of your e-mail, tell Mr. Beck why you think he should publish The Journal and politely ask him to do so.

Let’s see what happens!

Thank you for your support,

Toby

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