The American Terrorist: The Revenge Continues

THE AMERICAN TERRORIST – The Revenge Continues

By

Ron L. Carter

Copyright 2015 by Ron L. Carter

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Published at Smashwords

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Smashwords Edition, license notes

This eBook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Disclaimer

This book references some actual events; however, it has been fictionalized, and all persons appearing in it are fiction. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Table of contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Disclaimer

Other

Sources

Special thanks

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Chapter One

Lying dazed and confused, Douglas Cotton, The American Terrorist, woke to what he thought was Michael’s voice whispering to him as he said, Hey Grandpa, wake up. You’ve got to get out of here.

When Doug first heard the voice, he was caught somewhere between reality and a dream. He believed he was drifting along the lake for a few minutes while fishing with Michael. His mind had gone back to a memory of a happier time. It was before Michael was killed in Afghanistan by the terrorist I.ED. (impoverished explosive device).

He thought it was one of those warm, sunny, and lazy days when they used to take the boat out on the lake to troll for Trout. It was peaceful as the boat made its way along the cold sparkling water. In his mind, he could hear the soft putter sound of the trolling motor as the boat moved along close to the shore. He also believed he heard a lone eagle scream off in the distance as it hunted for its prey. Everything seemed so vivid and real to him as if he were watching a movie. The mountains were so close that he could reach out and touch them. He thought the warm air and gentle breeze from the cold water had caused him to doze off while they were fishing.

His senses started returning to him, and he was trying desperately to cling to that blissful memory he was having with Michael. It was such a feeling of comfort and serenity that he didn't want to let go of it. During that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to him except what was going on in his mind.

He tried to savor every flashback of the experience until he thought he heard Michael's voice again. The voice had become fainter this time, as if it were off in the distance, when Doug heard, Hey Grandpa, wake up. You’ve got to get out of here. He was in such a peaceful place that he didn’t want to wake up and was fighting the idea of ever opening his eyes again. But hearing Michael's voice had temporarily convinced him that he had succeeded in killing himself, just like he had planned. Just for that second, he believed that his spirit was somewhere in Haven and was reunited with Michael.

Doug's eyes were still closed as he whispered, Hey, Michael, is that you?

Even though he didn’t get a response, he continued, I've missed you so much. It’s so good to hear your voice again.

Still not getting a response from Michael is when the reality of what was happening made him open his eyes. He then realized that he wasn't dead and began to wipe particles of dirt and debris from his eyes. He slowly raised his elbows from the waist and started looking around to see what was happening.

Doug then became more aware of his surroundings and what had happened. He looked around at the destruction surrounding him and knew he had succeeded in blowing up the house, but somehow, he had survived the explosions. The house attack was supposed to be his last mission to kill the radical terrorists before they fulfilled their plan to kill hundreds of people at Disneyworld. He was also supposed to kill himself in the process, making him angry that he had survived his suicide attempt.

When he realized he was still alive, he was bitterly disappointed as he yelled angrily, This isn't Heaven. It looks more like hell to me, you stupid fool. You didn't kill yourself after all.

He was so angry that he yelled out even louder, Damn, it's Doug, you can kill all those terrorists, but you can’t even kill yourself and do it right. Then he looked around and saw that he was the only person moving and figured he better calm down, or someone might spot him. The more he looked around, the more he realized the cold hard truth as he whispered, I guess it just wasn't my time to die.

Moments earlier, he had driven his motor home, loaded with explosives, into the sizeable terrorist mansion in Florida, trying to kill himself and all the terrorists. He remembered the last thing before he woke up was pushing the donator's button to activate the bombs inside the motor home. He wondered how he’d gotten outside the motor home and was lying on top of a large bush. He didn't know it then, but the explosion had blown him out of the driver's side door. He landed in what was left of the flower bed next to the house. The blast had thrown him fifteen feet away, and he was lying on his back. Even though he had a few cuts and bruises on his face, hands, and back, the large shrub had cushioned his landing. It was much as if he had landed on a soft mattress. Once he regained his senses, he knew he couldn’t hear Michael’s voice because he couldn’t hear anything. The explosions had temporarily deafened him, and his head was pounding from what he thought was a massive concussion.

Once he could breathe and see normal again, he strained his eyes in different directions to see what was left of everything he intended to destroy. The dust and debris from parts of the house were still settling to the ground all around him. He had blood starting to run down his face from a superficial cut to his forehead. He quickly felt around his body to see if he still had all his body parts and soon found that everything was still intact. He quickly ran his hands across his legs and the rest of his body to see if he had any broken bones. After inspecting them, he realized nothing was broken. He couldn’t believe he'd somehow come through the explosions virtually untouched, except for a few surface scratches and bruises. He thought he had done an excellent job planning his last mission of destroying the radical terrorists and himself. He did blow up everything he had intended to kill, everything but himself.

After several minutes, he crawled off the large bush and laid down behind it on the ground. He was lying between the bush and a stucco structure that was once attached to the house. He was suffering from a bit of shock as he sat up in a fetal position. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. For that short moment, he felt like he did when he was back in Vietnam and was hiding from the three Vietcong on his trail. He sat there for the longest time, trying to collect his thoughts and figure out what he would do next.

He tried to wrap his mind around it, hearing what he thought was Michael’s voice warning him that he had to get out of there. He wasn’t sure how or why he heard the voice but knew it must have been some warning to wake up and leave as soon as possible. His survival instincts started to kick in, and he realized he had to listen to what that voice had told him. He had to figure out how to get out of the property without getting caught by law enforcement agencies. He knew he didn’t want to sit there and get captured by one of them. He believed his fate would be far worse with them than what he had just tried to do to himself. An eight-foot-high block wall fence surrounded the property, and the only escape route was through the front gate that he had blown up on his way into the property.

Still feeling a little unsteady, he knew he needed a little more time to try and get all the cobwebs out of his head. He also hoped to regain his hearing before he did anything too soon. He sat in that position until the ringing in his ears started to subside. After a time, he could tell his hearing was slowly coming back because he could hear several sirens as fire trucks and ambulances from far off were making their way to his location. He knew that once they arrived on the property, they wouldn't be able to get very close to the demolished house because of a few secondary explosions and the hundreds of rounds of ammunition still going off in every direction. He believed that would give him a little time to figure out his escape plan.

He stayed hidden until the rounds started dying and the emergency vehicles began to get closer. As he watched their movement, he began contemplating what to do as he formulated a plan. He thought the best thing for him to do would be to get out of there as quickly as possible and go back to the R.V. campground. He'd left his car in the visitor parking area and kept a hide-a-key inside a small metal magnetic box attached to the car's frame. He knew that if he could make it back to the car, he could use the spare key and make his get-away. He had also left a wig, beard, cash, and a few other items in the car just if his plan to blow up the terrorist house had not succeeded. He believed these things would help him get out of town without getting caught by law enforcement.

He knew he had to somehow try and blend in with the firefighters and the paramedics before attempting to leave the property. After waiting a few hours, the firefighters and paramedics decided they would try it and see if they could get in close and see any survivors. By the time they got close enough, it was dark, the secondary explosions had stopped, and the rounds of bullets had quit going off. As they got out of their vehicles, Doug ducked down and watched as two firefighters and paramedics bravely got out of their vehicles and headed toward the mangled house. Fire and smoke were still coming from what was left of the house. They slowly and carefully made their way to the opposite side of his hiding.

Doug quickly took that opportunity to get up and move crouched to where one of the ambulance vehicles was parked. He looked around to make sure no one was watching him as he opened the back door to the vehicle and went inside. He soon found a white paramedic shirt about his size, so he rapidly tore off his bloody shirt and stuffed it in a drawer. He then put the white shirt on to look like one of the paramedics. He found some saline solution and band-aids in a cabinet and cleaned himself up before putting a band-aid over his cut. Now all he had to do was convince the emergency people that he was a doctor and he was there to help if there were any wounded survivors.

Just as he was getting out of the vehicle, two paramedics approached him, and one of them said, Hey, what the hell are you doing in our truck? You're not supposed to be in there.

Doug quickly replied, I’m an emergency doctor at the local hospital. The police at the gate let me in to see if I could give you guys a hand. I figured I could help you out if there were any survivors. I cut my head on some loose debris while looking around, so I just came in to clean myself up before joining you.

He cleverly changed the subject by saying, Did you see any survivors out there yet?

The paramedic reluctantly spoke up again and said, Yea, we found one out in the back, but he's in pretty bad shape. You can come with us and check him out for yourself if you would like.

Doug didn’t have a bag of equipment with him, but he followed them around to what once was the backside of the house. A man was lying on his back moaning, and another EMT bent over him, trying to administer some first aid. Doug immediately recognized the wounded man as one of the would-be terrorists he'd spent time with while he was in the terrorist house. He had a few deep holes in his chest from pieces of metal or wood and was in a semi-conscious state. He was lying there, squirming and moaning in pain as the paramedic tried to help him. Doug told one of the other paramedics he was a doctor, so he let him look at the guy. The paramedic looked up at him, smiled, and quickly moved over and let Doug have a look for himself.

While Doug and the EMT were working on trying to give the injured man something for his pain, the other two paramedics continued their search around the property for more survivors. Doug and the EMT worked on the man for a few minutes. When Doug asked the EMT if he had any more pain medication they could give the guy.

He replied, Yea, but it's back in the truck. I’ll have to go get it while you work on him. He got up and said, I'll be right back, and immediately started jogging in the direction of the truck.

Doug watched until he was out of sight, and then he looked around to ensure no one was watching him. He put one of his hands over the man’s mouth and held his nose with the other hand while he began to suffocate the injured man.

He said quietly, You're not leaving this property alive, you scumbag. I'll make sure of that.

He kept looking over his shoulders for the EMT to return as the injured man kicked around for a few minutes as took his last breath.

When the EMT returned with the pain medicine, Doug stood up, Looks like we lost him. We were just a little too late; he didn’t make it. He must’ve had some bad internal injuries because we couldn’t do anything for him.

The EMT bent down over the body and scratched his head, That’s crazy. He seemed like he was coming around to me. I thought he might make it.

Doug just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head back and forth, Yeah, me too, he looked like he had a chance, but with internal injuries like his, you just can’t ever tell how bad they are.

Doug had survived the explosions only a few hours earlier and had already killed another one of his terrorist victims.

Doug hung around with the EMTs for an hour and pretended to be helping in looking for survivors. He was secretly making sure there weren’t any of them still alive. When no one was paying attention to him, he slowly snuck away. He made his way to the north side of the block wall fence of the property. He crept over to where there were many plants along the wall, which gave him plenty of cover. He crouched along the fence line from plant to plant toward the front of the property. When he got closer to the entrance, he moved very slowly toward the destroyed area in the fence.

The police were everywhere by then, and they had put the standard yellow tape lines across the front of the big gaping hole. They were trying to control and monitor the people coming in and out of the property. Doug hid in some large bushes and waited for the right opportunity to try and leave. By then, many curious people had gathered on the other side of the street, just trying to get a glimpse of everything happening. He thought they were just nosy neighbors, but he was glad they were there as a diversion for him. The police were trying to keep the crowd as far away as possible because of the stray bullets going off earlier. Everyone outside the property had their attention diverted to what was happening with the Firemen and the Paramedics. He slowly began to make his way to the north side of the blown-up hole in the wall. He crept from one plant to another and then waited a few minutes to see if anyone had spotted him. He began to get a little nervous because now he was only a short distance away from his escape to freedom.

Doug waited patiently until the police were preoccupied with the crowd and another fire truck started coming onto the property. When he thought the police were busy with it and the crowd, he took that opportunity to move out of his hiding place and walk directly off the property.

He had already made it to the sidewalk when a police officer grabbed him and said angrily, Hey, where the heck do you think you’re going? I saw you come out of there. What were you doing on the property?

Doug lumped in his throat but was used to being under interrogation pressure from some of the Muslim places he'd been to while blowing up his targets.

He had to think fast, "I’m a local doctor, and I live right down the street. I heard the blasts and the commotion and figured I could help. I tried to help the paramedics and the firefighters until one of the firefighters came up to me and told me they didn't need my help anymore. He asked me to leave the property, so I left. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm. I was trying