End of the World

by D Thomas Jewett

  “Then find my damn shoes, you twerp!” Lance let go of his shirt.

  Pimp searched around the park benches and quickly came upon a pair of shoes. He grabbed the shoes and brought them to Lance. “Are these yours'? Huh, Lance? Are they?”

  Lance snatched them out of his hand. “Yeah – they're mine.” He paused and glared at Pimp. “You little shit! It's about time you did somethin' useful.”

  Lance sat down and pulled his shoes onto his feet.

  “Hey everybody,” Lance yelled. “It's time to move out. Let's get somethin' to eat.”

  Lance set off on a fast pace toward the nearest fast food joint. Most of the gang fell in behind him, but some were hard-pressed to keep up.

  Pimp finally caught up to him. Pimp was short, so he had to take almost two steps for every step Lance took. Lance looked down at him as they walked. “You are a short little shit, aren't you!” he sneered.

  One of the gang piped up. “Hey! Look at the prices on the gasoline!”

  Another one piped up. “Who cares. We don't drive anyhow.”

  Lance was stunned when he looked up at the prices. $38.49 for regular. $47.90 for diesel.

  “Well, shit,” he yelled. “We all know the world’s goin' to hell anyways.”

  They continued walking until they came upon a fast food joint. They filed into the store, Lance standing in the lead while the crowd of gang members were talking over each other.

  Lance approached the counter. He was ready to order his usual – egg on a muffin, hash browns, and orange juice.

  “May I help you sir?” The counter girl asked him. And then she pointed up to the overhead menu and said, “Sir, did you see our new prices?”

  Lance’s jaw dropped when he looked up at the menu. Egg in a muffin – $19.00; hash browns – $16.50 were just the tip of the iceberg. And orange juice at $67.25 was amazing!

  Lance’s eyes were large as he said, “Wha – what happened?”

  “Well sir, we had a devaluation of the dollar last night. It's all over the news. Haven't you seen it?”

  Lance was frozen in place as he absorbed the full import of the high prices.

  “N – no,” he stuttered. Then he focused his gaze on the counter girl. “I ain’t seen nothin’.”

  Pimp came up beside Lance. “What's the hold up?” he asked.

  Lance motioned to the menu. “Look.”

  Pimp looked up. “Holy shit!” And then he turned and yelled out to the gang. “Hey guys, look at the fuckin' prices.”

  The crowd noise immediately diminished into silence.

  “Wow!” Came an exclamation from one member, and then another. And then the gang started yelling in shock and amazement.

  But one voice from the crowd was louder than the rest. “What we gonna do! Huh? What the fuck we gonna do!”

  This is when the manager, a young portly fellow, emerged from the back office. Holding up his hands, he shouted, “your attention. Your attention, please.” He looked at the crowd, waiting for the noise and shouting to subside.

  When the shouting finally subsided, the manager continued. “If you're not making a purchase, then I will have to ask you to leave!”

  The crowd noise increased to a roar. And so the manager held up his hands and yelled even louder, “If you’re not making a purchase, then you must leave!”

  From the back of the crowd, Lance heard one of the gang yell out, “let's take what we need!” The crowd noise rose to a crescendo as the gang jostled up to the counter. Pressed against the counter, some of the gang began jumping over it.

  Visibly shaken, the manager and the clerk drew back from the counter, pressing their backs up against the burger rack and food preparation surfaces. The manager was reaching for the telephone just as a coffee pot crashed down on his skull. He keeled over, hitting his already bloodied head on the burger rack as he fell to the floor.

  And with the mob now behind the counter, the bedlam and the fighting increased. The mob fought over the cooked food – but there wasn’t enough. And so they searched, demolishing the racks, the storage, the cooking surfaces in their quest for more – but there was no more. And so the bedlam diminished as the still hungry mob receded.

  When it was over, the store was left in shambles – and without a crumb of food remaining.

  Chapter 4

  The Waiter moved easily through the pine and fir forest, tracking the hilly, rocky terrain as though he were walking on air. And with each breath, condensation from the crisp, cold air flowed out through his lips. He left his rental car a couple of hours previous – up the hill and parked along the side of a winding road – and then hiked down the mountain, following trails used by deer and other forest critters, in search of ...

  ... through the trees, he caught a glimpse of something different – something not of the forest. He slowed his pace. Crouching as he moved forward, he pushed branches out of his way with a deft touch. Slowly, steadily, he pushed yet another low-hanging branch to the side. Damn these fir needles, he thought as he shook his hand.

  The Waiter approached the edge of the tree line. Through the wall of trees he had a clear view of a mountain cabin below. He whistled softly to himself – some cabin! The Waiter crouched just behind the tree line and checked to see the position of the sun. No sense having the bright sun reflect off of my lenses! He placed his binoculars up to his eyes and scanned the cabin below; and then he rotated his head as he took in the surrounding area.

  The “cabin” was actually a rather large lodge – a log structure with a substantial footprint – with possibly 7 or 8 bedrooms. In front of the lodge was a large flat green. A landing pad for a helicopter, he mused. The lodge occupied the center of a clearing in a small valley, about two-thirds of a mile long by one-quarter wide, and surrounded by mountains of fir and pine as far as the eye could see. The Waiter had been aware of the crisp cool pine-scented air; and yet the crispness and the scent of pine wafting through his nostrils was now even more acute. I’ll have to keep this location in mind, he thought as he recorded the GPS coordinates.

  The Waiter spent considerable time moving around the perimeter of the tree line, observing the property from different vantage points and eyeing the layout to determine the best place from which to operate. He finally decided that his original vantage was the best – it will give me my greatest chance of success, he thought.

  And so he continued to scan the property, taking notes of the layout and habits of those people who entered and departed. Hmmm. All of the people appear to be servants. But why should I be surprised? After all, the guests have not yet arrived, his expression changing to a wry smile at this last thought.

  * * * * *

  “Huh!” Brandy went from a deep sleep to sitting upright in bed. Bill was right with her.

  Disoriented, she heard multiple beeping tones intruding on her consciousness. She looked over at the clock – 3:05 am. Damn!

  “We're screwed!” Bill said. “I'll go check the alarm system.” He put his robe on and ran down stairs. Brandy followed close behind.

  They ran into the office and looked at the security system display. It rendered an outline of their property, but with many of the sensors flashing in unison. “Aw shit,” Bill spat, “they’re on the property. The entire perimeter’s been breached!”

  Brandy’s voice quivered as she said, “I don't think we can sneak through that line of foot soldiers!” She looked at Bill. “What do you think?”

  “Nope,” Bill replied. “We need to go to our backup plan.”

  Suddenly, the lights and equipment flickered throughout the house. “Hmmm. Our backup electric system has taken over,” Bill said as his eyes darted in several different directions. “Let's grab our guns!”

  Brandy thought back to Murray's statement about backup power. If the Feds ever come for you, you'll be able to use it to communicate with the outside world – regardless of what the Feds do! She put that thought in the back of her mind.

  They went over to the g
un cabinet. Bill handed a weapon to Brandy and then grabbed one for himself – both AR-15s[55]. And then he grabbed two loaded magazines from the bottom drawer. They each inserted a magazine into their weapon.

  Just then, Murray appeared at the foot of the stairs, yawning. “What's goin' on?” He was rubbing his eyes.

  Brandy turned and looked at him. “We're being raided. It’s probably the Feds.”

  “Oh shit,” Murray said. “What're we gonna do?”

  Bill’s voice was strained. “I want you to monitor the rear side of the house. Brandy will keep an eye on the front side. And I'll coordinate between the three of us. I'll alternate among all sides of the house.”

  Bill spoke through clenched lips. “Here,” he gave Murray a rifle. “Use this! If anyone comes through the south side, shoot 'em! And shoot to kill, damn it!”

  Murray froze in his tracks at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at the rifle and then at Bill. “K-k- kill? Oh shit, I didn't sign up for this!”

  “Well, you've got it now,” Brandy replied.

  Bill reached down and grabbed two flares and two flare guns from the bottom drawer. He handed one each to Brandy. “Here, you take a flare and shoot it up on the north side. I'll take the south side.”

  “Okay. Watch yourself!” Brandy took the flare equipment and headed off to the north side of the house. Bill headed south, with Murray in tow. Within thirty seconds, the flares were lighting up the night sky!

  Brandy watched as her flare accelerated upwards, adding still more light to the already glowing flares. And then she fired several warning shots into the air.

  Whatever the raiding party thought before, they now knew they'd been detected. They now knew that to storm the home would be suicide.

  * * *

  It was daybreak when Brandy peered through a front window. She was greeted with a semi-circular barrier created by an end-to-end arrangement of federal vehicles. The barrier extended out a hundred yards or so away from the house. Behind the vehicles, she caught a glimpse here and there of figures decked out in black military garb.

  “Hey Bill. Did you see what they've got outside?”

  Bill came over from the kitchen with a pair of binoculars. “Yeah. It looks the same on the back of the house too.”

  He swept the area with his glasses. “Did you see the television crews out there?”

  Brandy took the binoculars from him and scanned the area. “Wow! What do you think? News reporters?” She pulled the glasses closer to her eyes. “We're gonna be stars,” she said with a snicker.

  Brandy pulled the binoculars down and looked at Bill. “So, what's our plan?”

  Bill frowned. “Since they have television out there, I'm guessing they won't kill us or try to storm the house.”

  “Check.” Brandy chimed in.

  “My guess is they'll just wait us out – keep us surrounded like they did those tax ‘protesters’ a few years ago.”

  Brandy smiled as she chewed on a piece of gum – slowly, calmly. “Yep. I think so too.”

  Suddenly, they heard a megaphone power up with a squeal and loud tapping. “Hello. Hello,” a voice bellowed from the armada across the clearing.

  And then the words seemed to force their way through the walls and into the home. “We have a warrant to search the premises. If you come out with your hands up, no one will be hurt.”

  “Come out with your hands up,” the megaphone again bellowed.

  * * *

  Brandy watched a black-clad soldier-type moving behind the vehicles. She could discern his helmet and what looked like a black assault rifle, but he otherwise made good use of concealment. Well shit, she mused. Government goons carrying M-16s – full-auto is nothing to sneeze at.

  Brandy heard Bill key up on their mobile ham radio transceiver. “CQ, CQ. This is KL5CD. CQ, CQ. This is KL5CD. Come in please.”

  They kept a transceiver for emergency use. Bill was particularly keen on it since his degree was in electrical engineering. They used it sparingly, but it allowed them to communicate with members of the community or relay important information in the event of critical or unusual events.

  Brandy listened some more as Bill keyed the mic. “CQ, CQ. This is KL5CD. CQ, CQ. This is KL5CD. Come in please.”

  Still no answer.

  Bill came over to the window. “Anything?” He asked.

  “Nope,” she replied. “They're camped out behind their wall. But they don't seem to be doing anything.”

  “Hmmm. I'll go check Murray at the rear and see if he's noticed anything.”

  Bill soon returned and hefted the mobile transceiver – he began speaking into it.

  “CQ, CQ. This is KL5CD. CQ, CQ. This is KL5CD. Come in please.”

  He waited a moment and then pressed the transmit button. “CQ, CQ. This is KL5CD. CQ, CQ. This is KL5CD. Come in please.”

  “KL5CD. This is NL9ZK, come in?”

  Bill keyed his mic. “NL9ZK. This is KL5CD. Come in”

  “This is NL9ZK. Reading you five. Over.”

  “This is KL5CD. Copy, NL9ZK. Reading you five also. Over.”

  “This is KL5CD. Roger. NL9ZK – please be informed – this is Bill Ford located in far north Boundary county, Idaho. We are under siege by federal authorities who accuse us of passing gold and silver coin, which the federal authorities define as contraband. Will you please relay this message to the media so that they may know both sides of the dispute? Over.”

  “This is NL9ZK. Roger KL5CD. I copy your message 5 by 5. Do you have further message? Over.”

  “This is KL5CD. Roger, and yes to your question, NL9ZK. Please be informed that federal authorities likely want to confiscate gold and silver, and they may soon seek to confiscate gold and silver from all Americans. Over.”

  “This is NL9ZK. Roger, KL5CD. Your message is copied 5 by 5. We will immediately forward your message to broadcast and print media, and we will also notify the Boundary county Sheriff. Over.”[56]

  “This is KL5CD. Roger NL9ZK. Do you have any message for us? Over.”

  “Only that we all wish you good luck, KL5CD. Over”

  “Roger, NL9ZK. Thanks. Over and out.”

  “Roger, KL5CD. You're welcome. Over and out.”

  * * *

  The television news anchorwoman was droning on in the background. But Dwayne was oblivious to the noise – his mind was on the day's upcoming activities as he chewed a mouthful of cereal. Lifting yet another spoonful from the bowl, his ears perked up with the newscasters report. He felt an eerie disconnect as he listened ...

  “... and in far north Boundary county, federal authorities report they’ve surrounded the homestead of Bill Ford and Brandy West. Federal authorities report they attempted to serve a search warrant on the couple when the couple barricaded themselves in their home. The authorities have issued a statement that they are searching for contraband – gold and silver homemade coins they claim have been passed as legal tender. The federal authorities further claim that under United States legal tender laws, only Federal Reserve Notes may be used in commercial transactions.”

  “We have also received a report from the occupants of the homestead, Bill Ford and Brandy West. They assert that federal authorities accuse them of passing gold and silver coin, which the federal authorities define as contraband. They further assert that federal authorities will soon confiscate privately-held gold and silver from all Americans, and that federal authorities will soon place restrictions on barter transactions.”

  “In other news ...”

  “Hey Trish! Hey James!” Dwayne stood up and shouted. “Guess what I just heard on the news?”

  Chapter 5 – Friday

  Sheryl was talking a mile a minute. “The damn republicans are at it again. They're promoting still more cuts in the budget; and of course, this will make the unemployment numbers worse because they'll put government workers out of work. Where would the American people be without the government?”

  Without noticing, she adjusted to
the force of Mark's right turn onto a main thoroughfare.

  “... And I hear that the republicans are lined up against the President's latest jobs proposal. Can't the American people see how bad the republicans are ...”

  Sheryl’s voice trailed off as she took in the signs along the side of the road. “Look! Did you see that?”

  Mark looked over at her. “See what?”

  “Gasoline. It's at $40 a gallon. Oh my God! Where's it gonna stop! – And look!”

  “Look at what?”

  “Look at the line at the soup kitchen. It must be a half-mile long!”

  Mark didn't say anything.

  Sheryl continued talking as she glanced over at Mark. “... and did you see how they're now proposing to cut funding for the Department of Education? How ludicrous!”

  Sheryl paused to check her makeup in the mirror.

  Mark nodded and then began to speak. “Do you really think it's that simple? I mean, we have an economy that's really messed up. Do you really think that's caused only by the republicans? I mean, the democrats had power and look what –”

  “– WATCH OUT!” Mark shouted. And then they simultaneously felt a violent collision at the rear end of the car as their heads snapped back against the headrests.

  “What the –” Mark shouted as he looked in the rear-view mirror. And then he yelled, “WATCH OUT!” They both felt the sudden crushing impact of yet another rear-end collision.

  “That sonofabitch! Who does he think he is?”

  Mark began to pull over into the break down lane. The car behind followed him.

  He pulled to a stop. “I'm gonna have it out with that asshole!”

  Sheryl was watching as the car pulled up behind them. Just as Mark unbuckled his seat belt, Sheryl grabbed his arm. “WAIT!”

  Sheryl and Mark watched through the rear window as two men quickly got out of the car, one of the men drawing a gun from his coat pocket. Sheryl shouted, “Get us out of here!”

  But seeing the gun, Mark was already a step ahead. In a split second, he dropped the shifter into gear and punched the gas pedal. Sheryl heard the squeal of spinning tires grabbing the pavement as her head rocked back into the headrest.