Presenting a special free sneak preview of the dystopian action adventure Caitlin Star
Chapter 1 - Caitlin vs. the
Moral Authority Militia
Caitlin sat perched up high on a
tree branch clenching her sword.
She took in a slow deep breath of
the fresh mountain air and allowed her mind to be still. Dusk was approaching
over the landscape of Yellowstone
Park as the sun began to
settle behind the mountains across the valley. The majestic sights and sounds
of the forest felt like a treasured childhood memory that had been brought to life.
She savored it and took comfort and inspiration in the fact that this
place—this beauty—this was why she was here.
She had been training over ten
years for this moment, for this night, and for this revolution.
Strategically positioned throughout
the mountain valley around her, there was a platoon of like-minded warriors.
Like her, they were armed with swords, fight sticks, ropes, knives, and
throwing spears. Like her, they were dressed in black and camouflage Kevlar
enhanced uniforms that were part superhero and part covert G.I. Joe. Like her, they were disciples of the Sacred Scrolls of Tarmok and had been trained in the ways of the
Bull Mongoni by a man named Gunner Star.
But most of all, like her, they
wanted justice. They were here to stop the murdering cowards who had invaded Yellowstone Park . They were here to stop the Homo
sapiens that came to poison and destroy everything in their path.
Caitlin peered into her night-vision
binoculars and scouted the entrance road to the base camp.
She could see a parade of blinding
headlights approaching from the mountain road above. The sputtering screams of
gasoline and diesel engines began to drown out the soothing sounds of the
nighttime forest. Dirt, filth, smoke, noise, toxins—this was what her enemies
were now unleashing into what was once a pristine wilderness set aside over a
century ago.
Teddy Roosevelt would be rolling
over in his grave if he could see the desecration that was being thrust upon
the National Parks he had created in his visionary, progressive wisdom. But
alas, conservation, the environment, protecting animals—these were antiquated
ideas that had no place in the world of the right-wing extremists who now ran North America . President Perkins and the Tea Party Congress
created what they euphemistically called “The Freedom of Land Act” which
essentially turned over all National Parks, public lands, U.S. coastal waters
to the big oil companies.
Yellowstone had been turned over to
Exxon, and their first project was to assemble an army of redneck mercenary
half-wits backed by Perkin’s Federal Police Force known as the Moral Authority.
Their number one priority mission was to hunt down and sadistically slaughter
all the wildlife, especially wolves.
Not
on my watch, Caitlin thought. Not
as long as I am alive.
Caitlin had
raised a wolf named Sheeba. She rescued the wolf as a cub after
a group of hunters murdered Sheeba’s parents for a reality TV show because they
thought it would be “fun.” Well tonight
was Caitlin’s turn to have some fun.
She gazed at the trail below. The caravan of
trucks was moving down into the valley. The enemy would be arriving at the base
camp within minutes at full force. Caitlin tapped a message into the tablet
strapped to her forearm.
“Strike first, strike fast. Good God it’s great to be a Bull
Mongoni.”
*****************************************************************************
Joe Walsh stood on the platform of the lookout tower gazing upon the
vast territory of what would soon be all his.
It was the least they could do, Walsh thought.
He had been a fiercely loyal right-wing warrior
ever since the birth of the Tea Party movement and never shied away from saying
what all the other conservatives also believed but were too cowardly to say. He
had been labeled a hater, a bully, a racist, and branded as simply being crazy.
But now his strength and loyalty were about to pay off. At long last, Joe Walsh
was about to get what he was entitled to—what he earned—what he deserved.
Both the Exxon board of directors and President
Perkins himself had promised Walsh that he would be made the official Moral
Authority Magistrate. Not only did that mean he would have absolute power over
all legal issues in the territory with a powerful Federal police force at his
beck and call, it also meant he would own the bodies of all women reproductive
age in the Western territories over which he ruled.
Ahh, the
benefits of the Ryan/Aiken Personhood Act, he thought to himself. Women,
power, more cash than he could spend in ten lifetimes. All he had to do was
keep killing wolves and secure the area from any infestations of tree-hugging
liberals.
Walsh could see the parade of headlights
approaching. He signaled for the guards to open the base camp gates. Moving
into the valley from the hillside above was a long caravan of trucks,
recreational vehicles, vans, and military hummers with mounted machine guns. It
was the most ruthless hunting party ever assembled and his own personal
militia.
Joe Walsh looked up at the three
massive flagpoles that towered over the camp. One flag was the traditional United States of America ’s
flag. The second flag was white with a black and gray stylized logo, the
letters MA. At the bottom of the
shield was the text Moral Authority.
The third flagpole stood the tallest. It too had an emblem on top—light brown
in color with an image of a snake in the grass. Around the snake was a dark,
stylized text that read Freedom Party
Express.
Joe Walsh
smiled to himself. The future looked bright for him and the others who stayed
to the right and embraced the new extremism of the post-Tea Party Era.
The
future looked bright indeed.
******************************************************************************
Caitlin watched in horror as the caravan of
militia trucks began to pull up and unload their cargo.
Dozens
upon dozens of murdered wolves lay bloodstained and lifeless in the back of the
trucks, as if they were tossed there by some cold, evil force. Beautiful,
majestic creatures that had only an hour ago been going about their
day—playing, hunting, drinking from one of the few non-polluted streams that
remained, frolicking about with the pack.
The joy of life, the innocence of beauty, the purity of nature—all of it
instantly destroyed by the cowardly pulling of trigger by a hate-filled fiend.
Commander
Joe Walsh and his murdering militia would pay for this sadistic slaughter.
Caitlin would especially enjoy taking out this piece of shit Walsh. His newly
dubbed “Western Territory Magistrate” appointment was going to be a short-lived
term.
Caitlin
took a deep breath. She had to remember what Gunner had taught her.
Control and precision. It is all about
training, technique and focus. Once you have your enemy by the throat, then you
can uncork your barbaric rage.
Oh,
and unleash it she would.
Caitlin
did a final check in on her tablet. Everyone was in place—locked and loaded—ready
to spring out from the trees. They waited for her signal. All that remained for
Caitlin was to find the ideal moment to strike.
Caitlin
clenched her muscles and took a deep breath as she watched the flurry of
activity unfold in the base camp parking.
Dozens
of trucks with the Moral Authority shield pulled up to a base camp warehouse.
Militia
men jumped out. Some of them looked to be official Moral Authority police
troopers, but the bulk were mercenaries made up of gun-toting, bloodthirsty
rednecks.
More trucks poured in, and more
armed men stepped out into the lot. Within minutes, there were hundreds of trucks
jammed into the base camp parking lot and thousands of armed men moving about.
The back of a truck opened up as a fork lift approached and Caitlin got a
glimpse of the cargo, the bodies of dead animals riddled with bullet
holes. There was one truck after another
containing the lifeless forms of creatures slaughtered by this group of
government sanctioned murdering cowards.
Caitlin took another deep breath and
tried to focus the boiling primal rage cascading inside her hard, sculpted
flesh.
Everyone scattered about the base
camp parking lot and warehouse area as they began to hurriedly assemble in the open
courtyard area of the compound directly beneath the main building. It was
organized chaos. They moved with urgency and almost seemed anxious. Apparently,
it was time for the boss’s meeting.
Caitlin watched. She bit down on her
lip with salivating vengeful rage as a pompous figure with salt and pepper
hair, dressed in a shirt and tie emerged from the main building. It was the
insidious commander of this butcher shop, Joe Walsh.
Walsh was flanked by two Moral
Authority guards armed with AK-47s. A greasy-haired redneck
bowed to Walsh and submissively motioned for him and his guards to follow.
Caitlin tapped on the boom microphone icon on her tablet and pointed it toward
Walsh and his submissive greasy-haired underling.
“Commander Walsh, right this way. We
have a podium set up in the middle of the lot where you can address the men.”
Walsh nodded and followed him to a small wooden step ladder that led up to a
podium. At the center of a podium, there was a microphone.
The makeshift crowd was composed of
dozens of government trained Moral Authority assassins mixed in among hundreds
of psychotic gun fetishists and shit-kicking yahoos. One thing they all seemed
to have in common was a fear of Joe Walsh. The men wasted no time assembling
into the main lot awaiting the words of their ideological guru.
Walsh looked out over the men he
commanded, stepped up to the podium microphone, and spoke.
“My fellow freedom fighters…up until
very recently this place was held hostage as a tribute for Marxists and
socialism. National Parks were created by big-government liberals trying to
take your freedom away. This place stood as the ultimate insult to the American
people, a beacon of Communism and beholden to the animal loving, science
believing, tree-hugging liberals. But thanks to our friends at Exxon, Shell and
Chevron, and the hard work and dedication of the original Tea Party Express
movement that paved the way...thanks to them and most of all thanks to you, the
Government no longer owns this land, and at long last it belongs to those who
deserve it—you!”
Pistols were un-holstered and fired
into the air.
Caitlin waited to strike from the
shadows. She was going to relish taking down these bloodthirsty goons and
anyone else who wanted to use these mountains as a place to gleefully destroy
life just for kicks.
Caitlin could feel the adrenaline surging
deep inside her. She began to quiet her mind and stared to focus her rage into
the physical task that lay before her. From her stealth position in the tree, she
began to calculate her attack. The men were bunched up and exposed on all
flanks. This was perfect Caitlin thought. She alone could slash a dozen throats
and split a few skulls before anyone even knew what hit them. She tugged on the
bull rope secured to the branch underneath her and began to visualize her
dramatic entrance.
Meanwhile, Walsh rambled on
continuing to feed his followers the hate-filled rhetoric they so desperately craved.
“Now listen up, because there is money
to be made here. They will begin tearing down these mountains for strip mining
and drilling in ten days. So let’s keep the kill ratios up. I want all the wild
life, anything that walks of crawls in the state gone before Exxon gets here to
inspect this place next week and—,” Walsh stopped mid-sentence and was staring
out across the lot towards the edge of the forest.
Caitlin turned to see what had
caught the fiend’s attention. Her heart skipped a beat, first from awe, then
from fear. It was a beautiful, majestic gray wolf.
“Well I’ll be damned. Talk about
walking into the wrong part of town.” Walsh’s sarcastic quip incited a round of
laughter from the crowd of loathsome scum bags.
Walsh fed right into the atmosphere
of destruction and hate. “Someone get me a rifle with a scope. Looks like we
are going to have us some more fun tonight boys.”
Enough,
Caitlin thought.
She grabbed the bull rope, swung out
into the night air and planted a perfect ten landing down in the back of the
lot. She whistled to shoo away the gray wolf to safety. Then, she struck a
statuesque action figure pose and turned to face the mob of butchering goons
and their arrogant leader.
“Hey Walsh,” Caitlin called out.
“Why don’t you try me on for size tough guy?”
Find out what happens next as the Bull Mongoni revolution begins!
Find out what happens next as the Bull Mongoni revolution begins!
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