Raylan slowly came to, shaking his head to try and clear the cobwebs. God he was stiff and sore, probably slept in a bad position. Opening his eyes he could see that certainly was the case. He was kneeling beside an old steel bunk bed, like the one he'd slept in at boot camp, with his hands zip tied together around the frame. He heard the sound of the radio and the voice coming over it snapped him back to his senses. Seed! Turning to face where the sound was coming from he saw a man standing beside the radio. He was a tall, older looking fella, head shaved bald and his goatee gone white. Dressed in an old army jacket and sporting tattoo's on his arms. Raylan tried to remain calm. This fella did have him trussed up but he didn't look cult.

The man turned off the radio and faced the deputy. "Ya hear all that? Mean's they've closed all the roads, cut the phone lines, tore down cell towers and paid off the right folks on the outside. They have cut us off from the rest of the world." Approaching the bound officer the older man pulled up a stool and sat "They have been preparing for years now, building up to this. Just waiting for someone to kick off their goddamn holy war and start the apocalypse. And kick you sure did."

Placing his hands on his knees the man sighed "Smartest thing for me to do would just be turn ya over to em." The deputy held eyes with this man, he wasn't about to beg for his life and this man didn't look like the type to be swayed once he made up his mind. Finally the fella stood up and snapped open a jack knife cutting the zip ties that held Raylan's wrists "But then I'm not that smart sometimes."

Raylan stood up rubbing his wrists to restore the circulation before holding out one hand "Rayl.."

"White, Raylan White. I know. You might not know me to well but I remember your skinny butt growing up around here. Heard ya went off to war and joined the corps. So that's half the reason I'm trusting you." The older man said before turning over his arm to show the 82nd Airborne tattoo on his inner forearm. "Richard Roosevelt, former United States Army, most folks call me Dutch".

Raylan in turn unbuttoned and hiked his own sleeve to show his Marine Corps tattoo, Eagle, Anchor and Globe, with the words, Death Before Dishonor written above and Semper Fidelis below. Now that he heard the name, Dutch was ringing a bell, seeing a man about his size who only popped up in town every blue moon. Most folks said he was one of those paranoid preppers who never left the woods unless he had to. Think he had a niece.

Dutch nodded "Alright then Raylan White. First things first. Get outta that uniform we're gonna have to burn it. There's clothes in those lockers over there. Get dressed and then come meet me in the war room. We got a lot to talk about."

After the man left the room Raylan walked over to the mirror hanging on the wall above a small sink. He certainly looked like hell. Unbuttoning his ruined shirt he pulled it off, soiled by the river and mud he'd crawled through, ripped and stained with blood, along with his undershirt. Tossing them on the floor he examined the wound at his side. Already bandaged. Huh, Dutch must have decided to look after it while he was out. Not a total asshole at least. He examined himself a bit more, a slight bruise on his temple, and a few on his arm and chest but nothing broken it seemed. He ran his hand through his jet black hair and chuckled. This was about the first time he'd had enough hair to do that since joining the military. Finding a comb he tried his best to put it back in place. Tossing away his ruined blue jeans, he noted that he only had one boot left, the other one must have come off in the river.

Opening the lockers he dug around for things that might fit him, seemed Dutch was a big time thrift store kinda guy. He picked out a pair of black jeans that had been cuffed at the ankles and pulled them on. Once he dropped the cuffs the wranglers fit him well enough. A camo button up shirt fit him decently with an old lynyrd skynyrd t shirt underneath. He was still able to use his old belt, fitted with the bull riding buckle he'd won in high school. After grabbing a black denim jacket, he found a beat up cowboy hat and a pair of old boots. Putting these on he was satisfied he could pass for any other wrangler in the hills.

His duty belt was sitting on the table nearby so he paused to take a little inventory. The magazine in the gun was half spent, it also seemed Dutch had taken the time to clean it after that dunk in the river. He still had two full magazines in the belt and on the table were the two other magazine he'd hidden under his shirt when the he and the others left for the compound. Tucking these ones into his new jacket pockets, he started to remove some things from his duty belt that wouldn't be needed on this job. Latex gloves, nope, pen and paper pad, useless and also now waterlogged, pepper spray, that wasn't gonna stop these freaks and neither would the collapsible baton. Radio, he still might need but could carry it another way. At last he reached the handcuffs and thought hard. If he left these behind he was admitting he wasn't taking anyone alive. Placing them on the table he took a deep breath. The multi tool he opted to hang onto. Glancing around he spotted an old Kar Bar knife sitting on a shelf and fixed it to his belt. A nasty weapon for a cop to use but these were nasty times.

Leaving the room he wandered out into the other where Dutch was going over a map "Bout time princess we got work to do".

Raylan nodded "How long was I out?"

"11 hours" Dutch stated very matter of factly

"Alright catch me up"

Dutch began pointing to various spots on the map. "They had property all over this county and folks on it. Soon as you made your move last night they blitzed every inch of this land taking control. Like I said they were ready and waiting. You hungry?"

Raylan nodded his head with a sigh "Starving". Dutch walked over and pulled a brown sack off the shelf.

Raylan groaned "Oh no tell me that ain't".

"MRE, all the things your body needs" Dutch smiled handing off the military meal to the young man along with a spoon and a green canteen.

"Like I didn't eat enough of this crap for last 4 years" Raylan muttered but right now anything in his belly was welcome "Thanks" activating the packets heater with some water as he watched Dutch go into details

"Alright, lemme give ya the lay of the land. As ya know Hope county is made of three general areas, Holland Valley, Henbane River, and the Whitetail mountains. Joseph's three heralds each run one area. Southwest of us in the valley is John, the cult PR man if ya wanna call him that, and a sick sadist. Up North Jacob trains their elite men and uses absolute brutality to mold innocent folks into Eden Gate soldiers, he's probably the most dangerous in a fight being a former serviceman like us. And then there's Faith, don't know much about her. Some say she ain't even real, others say that Joseph has had other "Faiths" before this. But she runs the brainwashing down in Henbane, watch that bliss she grows, stuff will mess with your head." Dutch went into detail, pointing at each herald's territory.

"Now if I were in your boots, I'd head south first, take back Falls End. It's a community full of good folks that the damn cult has brought under their heel. If you can help them out it'll give you a good foot hold, base of operations and people who will stand behind you. These folks ain't gonna take this lying down, they just need a leader." The aging veteran finished

Raylan nodded as he scarfed down more of his meal "Sounds like you got it all worked out."

"Having a plan is easy, but no plans survives contact with the enemy" Dutch replied.

"Romel" Raylan noted.

"Right, and I ain't young as I once was and this is gonna take someone who can run and gun. Someone like a gungho marine with a stake in this county" Dutch concluded

Raylan had finished his meal and stood taking one more look over the map while drinking more of his water "So I'm the missile and you're the guidance system."

Dutch chuckled "Ya could say that. I got radio contact with folks most all over the valley, and even have a few tuned into the cult. Should be able to keep you up to date from here." Nodding at the knife on Raylan's belt "Well since you've already started helping yourself to my gear, get yourself a load out and get out there. First thing we gotta do is run em off my island."

With a nod Raylan walked to the giant racks of weapons hanging on the walls and lockers of more. His hands passed over various rifles and carbines before coming to rest on an M14. Pulling the weapon down he did a quick systems check on it, working in good order and Dutch had even added a military style tactical scope, and a suppressor. The action and sights had been modified, it reminded him of the Crazy Horse version the army used. He'd used a modified M21 overseas and owned Springfield M1A himself. "Least ya got good taste" Dutch grunted. Raylan also picked out a Mossberg cruiser, the short pistol gripped pump action shotgun would be handy up close.

Dutch went to the shelves and took down a few boxes. "Got 10 mags for the rifle here, 7 of em loaded with good ole hollow pointed ammo, and the other three have armor piercing rounds. I got all manner of shells for the 12 gauge, slugs, buckshot, even a few homemade dragons breath." He then put a few small boxes of pistol rounds on the pile, "And plenty of good ole 45 acp for that pistol of yours". Raylan chuckled and shook his head, racking the slide of the shotgun open he slid one shell into the chamber before snapping it closed and feeding six more into the tube magazine. Loading a mag into the rifle he racked the action letting it close with a snap.

He made sure each weapon had it's safety on. Tucking the shotgun and both guns spare ammo into a duffel bag. Dutch then reached into another locker and produced a large wooden crate. Inside were sticks of dynamite and a few grenades. Raylan eyes widened a bit "Where the hell?"

"You really wanna know deputy?" Dutch said curtly.

Looking up Raylan thought for a moment and shrugged "Nope" taking a few of each. As he looked around again he spotted a compound bow on the wall. A good one with nice sights and a quiver of arrows fixed to the side. Good and quiet, even more so than the rifle. He tucked it into the bag along with the shotgun.

As he slung the bag over his shoulder Dutch held out a small holster with three throwing knives "Can't hurt". Raylan added these and his radio into the bag so Dutch could keep in contact.

Turning to face the map again he shook his head, seeing just how much of this land he once thought was so free, was now in the hands of Edens Gate. "You know, when I was a kid I used to read about the range wars of the west. How people fought like mad men over land, water, grazing rights. Killing one another for putting up barb wire or grazing sheep that killed the grass. A single man trying to lay claim to all the land he could find whether or not someone else lived there. I remember thinking it was nice that Hope County never had any of that. Folks always just looked after one another round here. I guess our turn was comin' around, just took awhile to get here."

Dutch grunted as he checked the mag on the M4 by his radio table. "Yeah, wrong kinda folks can poison this land. Turn into a damn cancer. Now cut it out".

With that Raylan grabbed his new rifle and headed down the hall, making his way up the stairs before lifting the hatch. Stepping out into the sunlight he looked about to see if anyone was around. Coast was clear. Shutting the hatch he moved the bushes back in place to cover it. His free hand reached into his breast pocket and fished out his badge. Hope County Sheriffs Dept. Deputy. He glanced it over once before tucking it back into his pocket. He wasn't a deputy right now, he was a solider, fighting in a war.

The Hope County Range War had begun