James Rawles - Patriots

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters (other than public figures), events and settings described in this novel are imaginary, and all character names and descriptions are fictional. In all cases, any resemblance between the characters in this novel and real people is purely coincidental.

Real public figures, products, places, businesses, government agencies or other entities are depicted fictitiously in this novel for purposes of entertainment and comment only. No affiliation, sponsorship or endorsement is claimed or suggested.

This novel is only for the entertainment of the reader and is not intended to be used as a source of information or instruction. All activities of the fictional characters in the novel are depicted for storytelling purposes only. The author and the publisher do not intend the reader to make any use of the contents of this novel and strongly caution the reader against doing so.

For purposes of a realistic narrative, the author has described various survival techniques and the fabrication of various devices in detail. However, this book is not meant to take the place of a survival manual and is not meant to instruct the reader on the fabrication of devices that may be dangerous, illegal or both.

For example, the making and/or possession of the some of the devices and ingredients depicted in this novel may be illegal in some jurisdictions. Mere possession of the uncombined components and/or ingredients might be construed as a violation of criminal law. Consult your state and local laws!

The case citations contained within this novel do not constitute legal advice. Consult a lawyer if you have legal questions or need legal advice.

The medical details contained within this novel do not constitute medical advice. Consult a doctor or other appropriate health professional if you have medical questions or if you need medical or nutritional advice.

The author and publisher shall have neither liability nor responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any injury, loss or damage caused, or alleged to be caused, directly or indirectly, by the contents of this novel and/or the use of the contents by any person.

Above all else, it takes faith and friends to survive. Ive been blessed with a lot of friends, and they have helped to strengthen my faith in Almighty God.

This novel is dedicated to the not-so-fictional Group: Conor, Dave, Hugh, Jeff, Ken, Linda, Mary, Meg, P.K., Roland, and Scott. Keep your powder dry!

My thanks to the readers of SurvivalBlog.com and the many other folks who encouraged me, who contributed technical details, who were used for character sketches, and who helped in the editing process: Arne, Barbara, the Bee Man, Bill L. (with the French Resistance, 19431944), Bob The Soap Maker, sharp-eyed Dr. Boris K., R.F. Burns, the HAM wizard, Carolyn, The Chartist Gnome, Cheryl the Economatrix, Chris the Rocky Mountain Diver, Commander Zero and his new bride, Dr. Craig in New Zealand, Col. CRM

Discriminator, David in Israel, the late Jonathan Davis, Debbie, Pastor Dennis, 1/2 M.O. A. Dick in Orofino, Quiet Donny, Dr. Eric, Fred theValmet-Meister, Frank in Nah-lens, Gayle, The Glock pro in Connecticut, Pastor Hale, the anachronistic H-man, Huff the dynamite shooter, Joe Clutch, John Jones

in the desert, Kirk and Karen in Montana, All-Grace-No-Slack-Really-Reformed Kris in Oregon, Lance in Moscow, LVZ in Ohio, Froggy

Mark, Marshall the Cyberpunk, Marvin The Wordmonger, The Mill-wright, Nadir, Nick in Australia, Patton, Peter in Switzerland, PPPP- the Pioche Professional Polymer Pistolero, Preston, Ranier, Roland in Germany, Rolf and Sandy (both in Washington), Sara the Reenactor, Sherron, Stefan in Sweden, Tina The S.C. Clone in Kooskia,Wes in Boise, and MRE Woody.

Thanks also to those who have provided web space, outlets, publicity, motivation, and/or prominent links for my novel: Howard Albertson, Patrick Ales-sandra, Joseph Ames Jr., Jeff Baker, Billy Beck, Ed Bertsch, BOHICA Concepts, Bill Brumbaugh, John Bryant, Ammon Campbell, The Christian Survival Intelligence Network, the late Jeff Cooper, Jim Crews, Captain Daves Survival Page, Richard DeCastro, the late Carla Emery, First Virtual Bank, Detra Fitch, The Frugal Squirrel, The Fraud Information Center, The Gos-pel Plow, Bob Grenert and the Sacred Covenant Resource Center, Bob Gris-wold and the staff of Ready Made Resources, Mikael Hggstrm, Ken Hamblin, Michael Heinze, Fred Heiser, Richard Horton, Peter Huss, The Staff of the Idaho Observer, Dean Ing, Devvy Kidd, Mark Koernke, John Leveron, Acknowledgments

Live Oak Farms, Dr. Lawrence Martin and Lakeside Press, Henry McDaniel, Mike McNulty, Mike Medintz, The Mental Militia Forums, Patty Neill, Dr.

Gary North, Nick Norwood, Mark Nowell, Michael Panzner, Dr. Ignatius Piazza, Maj. John Plaster, Jerry Pournelle, Larry Pratt, Project Epsilon, Steve Quayle, Dr. Norm Resnick, John Ross, Rourke, Kurt Saxon, John Stadt-miller, David Stott, Gabe Suarez, Kurt and Angie Wilson of Survival Enterprises, Nancy Tappan, Truth Radio in Delano, Two Toes Consulting and Design, Ed Wolfe,Weapons Safety, Inc., Tom Woolman, and Aaron Zelman of Jews for the Preservation of Firearms Ownership.

Thanks to Paul B. and Randy K. for their sharp eyes in editing the previous edition.

Most importantly, this novel is dedicated to my excellent wife (The Memsahib). She has patiently put up with the heaps of supplies in the barn and garage for twenty-plus years. She suffered through nine months of voluntary separation while I moved to Idaho alone to pound nails and write the first draft of the novel. She cheerfully joined me for the following eighteen months with no running water, living amidst Sheetrock dust in a half-finished house. She helped fill the chest freezer with her livestock, garden produce, and wild game.

She wrote the book (or at least the chapter) on home birth. Most of all, I praise her for displaying the patience to live in loving Christian submission with a husband who spends far too much time clicking away at a keyboard. I am truly blessed!

When the landing gear came down, Todd Gray gave an audible sigh of relief.

He was almost home. The seventy-seat Horizon Airlines Bombardier CRJ-700 commuter jet started its downwind leg, with its engines throttled back to low thrust. Todd looked out his window at the familiar rolling Palouse Hills, a neat patchwork of wheat fields. This time of year they were shorn to a short golden stubble. By early October even the straw had been hauled out. Just after the plane touched down, the air brakes flipped up, and the engines reversed with a roar. The plane wheeled to a stop at the tiny Pullman-Moscow air terminal, just west of the state line dividing Washington and Idaho. When the plane switched to external power, Todd unbuckled his seat belt, but didnt get up. He hated standing in the aisle, waiting for everyone to pull out their carry-on bags, and waiting for what always seemed like an eternity for the cabin door to open and for the passengers to shuffle out. So he sat and waited for the aisle to clear. He closed his eyes, said a prayer, and considered what had gone on in the last seventy-two hours.