Muster

by Christoff Orr

  The Commander nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean brother. We are right there with you. All of us in our group, Conall, over here, the Boss, Ariella as well as the others you haven’t met yet. We have all put our lives on the line and so much more, to ensure that very thing will happen. But first, we need to get ready, get organized. That’s why we need to get up to Montana, meet up with the Geisha, and give some time to be able to think, without having to look over our shoulders.”

  “Who’s this Geisha?” Lt. Preen asked.

  “She’s the unofficial, official leader of Free Montana. She’s the President of the area you might say.” The Commander started before he paused and looking around, always staying alert to his surroundings. “We might not have won the Fox Wars, but there were some small victories. Free Montana was one of them.”

  The wind picked up a little, as the horizon sliced the setting sun in half. Lt. Preen, still held the empty cup looped around his right index finger, as he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them up. “So, all of Montana is free, were they the only ones to survive?”

  “Yes and no, it’s not like the war stopped and they just allowed Montana to remain exactly how it was. In reality, Free Montana is only free because they kill any Russians, Chinese, Regionals or Loyalest that come into their territory. After a while, the powers that be felt that it was too costly to try to eradicate them and left to be, hoping they would just die off. But I’m happy to say, that so far, they have disappointed the King and others by not only surviving but by getting stronger. Also, Free Montana only includes about two-thirds of Montana, about half of Wyoming and portions of North and South Dakota.

  The Geisha runs the majority of it, at least the operational side, but she has helped. One is the old fashion gunslinger nicknamed Stonewall, who operates within the occupied section of the Black Hills area. If half of the stories I’ve heard about him during the Fox Wars, he is one tuff cowboy. That all being said though, all this extra movement by the Russians is getting me a bit worried. If they are willing to push so hard against the Chinese, who’s to say they won’t push into Free Montana as well? That is why we need to get up there before the noose is lashed around them as well.” The Commander said. “Now if you will excuse me,” he said, then politely nodded and headed on to go talk with Conall.

  Lt. Preen was left standing there, as he thought over everything that had just been relayed to him. Everything still seems so strange to him. Now, though, as he watched the last rays of the setting sun, being dragged down into the dark abyss of the night sky, he couldn’t help but feel hopeful. Hopeful and tired. They were going to have yet another long and dangerous hike ahead of them.

  16 Set the Table

  Helena, Montana (Capital of Free Montana)

  “Tinky!” Garret called out as he read the message attached to the latest incoming pigeon. “I got one from the Hive, I think Geisha is going to want to see this one.” Garret turned and placed the white and brown color bird into a large cage, which held approximately thirty other pigeons. Each pigeon post cage was assigned different locations. In this case, this particular bird was placed in with others from the Hive, there were pigeon post for the Black Hills region, and even areas as far away as the Appalachian trail. “You get some rest now buddy,” Garret said as he latched the cage back up. He read the newly delivered message once again before turned to yell out one more time for his boss, “TINK!” It wasn’t till after he yelled that he realized that Tinky was already standing behind him. “Oh, you heard me.”

  The balding, six foot three inch two hundred and a thirty-pound man stood disapprovingly as Garret basically yelled in his face. Robert “Tinky” Morris didn’t say a word, just extend his hand and awaited the message to be delivered to him. Once in possession of the pivotal parcel, he turned and exited the coop. He was what you might call a gentle giant, except he had a temperament of a firecracker and a right hand that could nearly smash granite. He spoke with the personal lexicon teetered between a Southern Baptist preacher and a Southside dock worker. He could curse you out with the vernacular and panache of any highly educated man, yet at the same time quote any verse in the Good Book. When it came down to it, Tinky, was a God loving, loyal American patriot, that despised those who used power to destroy the weak.

  Then there was his personal hobby, something picked up long before the lights went out, that endeared him to the lifestyle of the Columba livia domestic, the homing pigeon. It was during the Fox War’s that he implemented their use, to get messages across lines when the radio’s started to be overtaken by the Loyalist. Now, as another resident of Free Montana, he had been appointed to the position of Chief Pigeon Post Master. A calling he takes very seriously and performs with utmost fidelity.

  Tinky read the message again as he crossed the parking lot from his office towards that of the Geisha. A light flurry of snow started to find its way down from the clouds, and rest peacefully upon the roads and sidewalks. He bound up the four cement steps up to the front door of the Helena police station. The red brick office was now the Capital Office, the court and overall symbolic home of Free Montana and all those it represents. Once inside, there were two armed guards standing ready at each side of the entrance. There was a long hallway that laid straight ahead, the wooden flooring in need of a fresh polish. To the immediate right was the booking office, then down the hall on both sides, offices branched off. Down some and to the right was the stairs that lead up to the second and third floors. There was a working elevator, but Tinky liked to get his exercise in wherever he could.

  Once on the third floor, which is the residents and office space of Geisha, Tinky was greeted once again by two more armed guards. Who stepped aside once he reached the top step. “Morning boy’s,” Tinky said as he stepped past them. To the left was the offices where most of the work was done, while to the right was Geishas living quarters. Knowing it was still early in the day, he turned to the right. He approached the door leading into her room as he gave one hard rap on the door then walked in. “Geisha got some new’s from the Hive I think you’re going to want to see.”

  The living quarters of Geisha were once the living quarts of the first territorial judge and are one of only two rooms in the building to have a fireplace. Long before this old red brick building was the Helena Police office, it was the territorial courthouse and the residence of the local judge. It is one of a dozen historical buildings still standing in the Free Montana territory. The old judge's room, was later in life converted into a storage room, then finally in the Police Chief’s office, only to be later returned to its original purpose. After the Fox Wars, and once Free Montana was created, Helena was soon designated as its capital. One of the first orders of business was to set up the police station as the Capital Building of the newly formed territory.

  The manner of how Elizabeth “Geisha” Lockheed, because the President of Free Montana is a little less straightforward. The only real things that are easy to explain about the Geisha is she was the Research Center Director of the Montana Historical Society in Helena before the lights went out. Her husband, Henry Lockheed, was killed during the Fox Wars, and she gets her nickname, Geisha, due to a full back tattoo of a Geisha girl. The meticulous and colorful work of art, stretched from the base of her neck, and runs all the way down, her entire back, past her toned backside and finally stops six inches down the backside of her right thigh. Her tattoo and her husband's dog tags are the mainstays of her life. Those and her unshakable desire to rid America of the vermin that had wiggled their way into the livelihood of so many. Now, from this old red brick building, with the survivors of the blackout, the Fox Wars, and the continued harassment, she will fight and die if necessary to restore America to what it was.

  “Geisha,” Tinky said as he pushed open the door to the main living quarters and entered the room. As expected he found Geisha sitting on the floor, facing the fireplace where three fresh pine logs were being devoured by the flames. Next to her was her morni
ng cup of tea, as a large map laid out on the floor in front of her. “Got some news from the Hive, I think you’ll want to see this right away.”

  Geisha turned to look over her left shoulder to better see Tinky. Her dark black hair hung loos and full, as the natural spirals casually dropped onto her shoulders. She reached up with her left hand and took the note before turning back to face the fire. She sat there, cross-legged, wearing olive drab tactical pants, and a white tank top. The trademark tattoo peeked out from the tank top at various points along her back. As her husband's dog tags hung loosely from her neck. She mumbled aloud as she read the brief message. “Well then,” She said, pausing as she unfolded her legs and proceeded to stand up. “Can you get a reply out right away?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Tinky quickly replied.

  “Tell them we will be ready, and that we will send a team out to meet them along the trail,” Geisha said before she bent over and picked up the clay teapot, and half full teacup. Once back upright, she continued, “Pick your fastest bird, we need to get this to them right away.”

  “Right away ma’am,” Tinky said before he turned and headed for the door.

  Geisha read the note one last time, then crumpled it up and tossed it into the fire before she turned and headed towards her sleeping quarters. It was just through a door, which separated her sleeping space from her working space, there, laying on her bed was a red flannel shirt, that she picked up and put on. She proceeded to put on her boots, strapped on her gun belt, where a holster for her Glock 21 SF and two extra mags were attached. Once the belt was on, she slipped the pistol into the holster and threw her heavy jacket on before turning to step out into the hallway.

  “Morning Ma’am,” the guards said almost simultaneously.

  “Morning boys, anything going on?” Geisha asked as she started down the stairwell.

  “No ma’am,” Coby said, the oldest of the two brothers.

  Geisha just nodded as her mind continued to run through its morning checklist of things to accomplish as she and her two armed guards made their way down towards the main floor. The addition of the armed security was still something new. She had always walked freely and openly throughout all of Free Montana, and especially here in her hometown. However that all changed last month when there were three attempts on her life all within the span of a single week.

  Two of the three would be assassins had been long-term residents of the town, and shocked everyone when the heard the news. After the third attempt, it was clear that there was a force out there, either the Russians, China or maybe one of the Kings organizations, that wanted Geisha dead. Though she protested that she could take care of herself, the town committee still felt it best to assign some full-time security to her. So now, where ever she goes, there was always a pair of triggers close by. By the time she reached the main floor and walked over the office of her second in command, Tim, her mind was racing with things to get done. She reached Tim’s office, as she opened it and walked in. As usual, he was sitting behind his desk, looking over the continual flow of paperwork.

  Tim looked up momentarily from his desk as he heard the door open. Once he saw who had come in he quickly commented, “You know, when the lights were out, I missed a lot of things, a good pizza, cold beer, a baseball game, just about anything really. However, the one thing I did not miss was sitting at my old work desk, doing paperwork. Now, after all we fought for, here I am again, sitting behind a desk with paperwork.” He smiled as he picked up a few pieces of the paper the laid out before him, “This, this right here, this is the true cost of freedom.”

  Geisha tilted her head some and leaned in to read one of the papers he was holding, “Toilet paper request form?” She said with a smile.

  Tim, turned his hand around so that the paper was facing him, allowing him to read what he was holding. “Oh, yes, this is one of our latest additions. Apparently, some people were playing loose and free with the old TP, we nearly ran out before our last supply run. So now, everyone gets one roll per week. If for some reason you feel you need more, you can go talk to Dr. Bottle and if he approves it, you can get an extra roll every other week.”

  “And you thought this job was going to be boring?” Geisha said with a smile, as she pulled out a chair and sat down. “What patrols do we have out right now?”

  “Um,” Tim started as he placed the papers back down on his desk and spun around in his chair to grab a clipboard with even more paperwork. The concept of computers, wifi, Google Docs and other such office administrative regularities was a distant dream, one that faded with the lost of power. In the occupied zone, there was some form of internet, though highly regulated, here, in the Free Montana area, there a skeletal remains of the internet, but nothing near what it once was. It had been stripped down to its bare bones, used only for emergencies and limited use at that. There was mainly only paper and pencil, pen if you felt really lucky. Everything was written down and filed. Like so many other things after the lights went out, communications was reduced to its simplest forms. “Looks like we have Jeramy, Big Tom, Sandy, and Coal out right now. Leaving three other teams. Why, did you need someone?”

  Geisha leaned back in her chair as she thought about who was left, then quickly answered Tim as more of an afterthought, “Um, yeah, I need a team to head out as soon as they can. We are going to be having guests, a lot of them, and I wanted a team to go out and meet them.”

  “Guests?” Tim asked as he leaned forward, now intrigued. “Do you need an extra rider, maybe some weapons support?”

  Geisha smiled at the request, “If you leave, who will handle the TP?” She smiled and gave him a little wink. “No, I need you here, plus a single team should be sufficient. I don’t want too many people out at one time. To answer your question though, a group form the Hive is coming. They could already be on their way.”

  This really got Tim confused, why would one of the largest resistance organization in the occupied zone, pack up and leave. “All of them?”

  “No, but one of their outposts was discovered, so a whole neighborhood, plus survivors of Camp Zion will be joining them. But that’s not the kicker, its the reason they are even coming here.” Geisha paused as she leaned forward in her chair and looked at Tim, “They are coming here because there is an increase in Russian activity in the Salt Lake area.”

  Tim sat the clipboard aside as he placed his elbows on his desk, leaned forward and stepped his fingers, “Russians? In the Salt Lake area? Why? How?”

  Geisha nodded as she replied, “I know right! Unfortunately, they didn’t include details to all of that on their message. So, they should be leaving in another day or so and I wanted a team to start riding out in that direction. Don’t know if they are coming on foot, or if they have secured some form of transportation. Either way, I want someone out there, plus we have to get things ready around here. That’s where you come in.”

  Tim turned slightly and reclaimed the clipboard. “Alright, I say the best team to send, out of who is here would be Johny’s team. They could take a few extra pack horses and the wagon, that way if those coming are walking, they can be loaded up in the wagon, make the trip back a little easier.”

  “The wagon? Are you sure about that? Wouldn’t that slow them down and make them more of a target for the Highwaymen?” Geisha asked with a bit of concern.

  “It’s a risk/reward tradeoff. I would rather them have it and not need it then the other way around. Plus I think we are too far into the game to be worrying about attacks form Highwaymen. Anyway, Johny’s team has some of the best shooters and trackers we have. If anyone tries to jump them, Johny and his team will be ready. I say it's our best option.”

  Geisha thought about it for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “That’s why I need you around. Now, what about housing?”

  Tim placed the clipboard he hand in his hand on the desk, turned and picked up another one. He flipped through the pages, some back and forth a few times, as he compared one to another. Then a
fter doing some math in his head, he lowered the clipboard and looked back at Geisha, “I have twenty-three houses ready right now, with another dozen or so ready in a few days if needed. After that will have to do some double-bunking or something.” He placed the clipboard back on the desk before asking, “You said they sent in a message, not over the radio?”

  “Yeah, Tinky just brought me the message from one of his birds. My guessing is that they don’t trust the radios. Don’t know why, but I’m assuming that is something else we’ll be informed about when they get here.” Geisha stood up and pushed the chair she was sitting in, back towards Tim’s desk. “For now, get those houses ready. I’m going to go inform Johny that he and his team need to be on the trail by midday. After that I going to reach out to Stonewall, I’d like him to be here soon after the other get here. I have a feeling something big is coming our way, and I want to be ready for whatever it is.” She turned to leave the office, and was just about to shut the door when she peeked back in and commented, “Who can I see about getting some TP around here?” She quickly let out a high spirited laugh and shut the door.