Patriots Betrayed by John Grit Page A

is kill us.” He held her face in both hands. “If they want to see the show, they first have to buy the ticket. I plan to make that ticket as costly as possible. Hanging their dirty laundry out for the public to gawk at is part of it.”
    ~~~
    It was mid morning when Raylan stepped out of the car and disappeared into the store. He came back with a couple subs and drinks, as well as two dozen more flash drives, all they had on display. He ate while she worked. “After we’re through here, we’ll need another car. This one will probably be burned by security cameras. Driving a stolen car around is asking for trouble, anyway. We’re bound to be pulled over by a cop sooner or later.”
    She inserted another flash drive into the computer. “Then they’ll know we’re in town when the police find the ditched car.”
    “They’ll know in a few days when our packages are delivered to newspapers and politicians.”
    “I think we should send it to the headquarters of the smaller political parties,” she said, “such as the Libertarians and Tea Party, as well as the Constitution Party.”
    “Everyone but the Socialist and Communist parties,” Raylan said. “Hell, we’ll send one to the anarchists. I would leave the KKK, Nazis, and Black Panthers out, though.”
    ~~~
    Raylan would never have recognized Carla as she walked to the newly purchased Ford Explorer, if he hadn’t helped her with the disguise. They bought the Explorer from a man who advertised in the Classifieds section of a Virginia paper. The title had been filled out by the owner and notarized by the man’s wife. Raylan planned not to bother getting the title transferred to his name, and therefore there would be no paper trail for their pursuers to follow. The tag was good for three more months.
    She dumped several newspapers on the seat and got in. “Nothing,” she said. “Not a single word.”
    He cranked the engine and drove through the small parking lot, then pulled onto the country road and headed for their forest campsite. “They’re afraid. And for good reason. Still, at least one of them will print something – after they’ve checked out our stories as much as they can. We included plenty of details, and they will soon realize we’re not kooks and we’re not bullshitting them.”
    She didn’t seem so sure. “You still have a lot of faith in the press, considering most of them are the propaganda wing of the Democrat Party and most of the rest are in the Republican Party’s back pocket.”
    “Remember, we sent a flash drive to the Punk Report. Those college kids were the first to report on President Flemington getting a BJ while on the phone with the Pentagon and sending troops to their deaths in Syria. They’ll take the ball and run with it. Then other news agencies will be shamed into reporting on it.”
    “Yeah, maybe. And what good did that do? He still got two terms. Nobody gave a shit about the dead soldiers who died for nothing.” She slammed her right hand against the padded dash. “What about all the politicians we sent a flash drive to? Not a peep from any of them. You would think we’d have at least one honest member of Congress.” She watched the greenery of a heavy mountain forest zoom by. The peaceful scene calmed her a little, but what ate at her guts just wouldn’t let up. “God damn it! America wake up!”
    He pulled off onto a dirt road and stopped a few hundred yards into the trees. “You can get out and scream and cuss. It might make you feel better.”
    She opened her door. “Good idea.”
    Raylan noticed she took the MP5 with her, covered by a jacket draped over her arm. He got out and stood beside her on the edge of a scenic mountain precipice. “It’ll take a while to check our stories and then more time to check with their lawyers and then more time to grow enough balls to report it.”
    She snorted. “It’ll take them a week to get over the shock.”
    “We did drop a lit stick of dynamite into their