Cole and Stonewall sat there, each at their own table, in silence for a good ten minutes after Tee had left. Finally, the sound of Cole’s chair scraping across the floor as he pushed away from his table cracked the stillness. He took three steps across the open space till he stood next to Stonewall’s table. “What do you think?”
Stonewall mulled over the question in his head, as he asked himself the very same words. What does he think? “I think we need Tee and his people, but I also think they are afraid.” He thought for another moment, wanting to choose his next words carefully. “He’s smarter than he looks. He’ll make the right decision on the end.”
“Which decision is that going to be?” Cole quickly asked.
Stonewall sighed as he picked up the mug again. The coffee housed within the ceramic mug had cooled beyond the point of making it appetizing. He thought twice about drinking it and placed the mug back down on the table. He looked up towards Cole as he half whispered out, “I have no idea.”
26 Old Friends/
Old Feelings
Free Montana
Geisha laid curled up in a ball, the palm of her right hand gingerly pressed up against her exposed belly. She was covered in this mist of sweat, and her head felt like a balloon, moments before it would burst from over inflation. Even blinking her eyes, made her head pound even more. Her mouth was tacky and dry, as she moved her tongue around it, she could still taste the foul stench of the cheap alcohol. The perverted liquid had already done its damage, its warm embrace evaporated hours ago. Now it let pain and nausea in its wake. There was a reason she never drank, and that reason was now pounding her skull from the inside, in an attempt to break free from its cranial containment.
She slowly rolled over onto her back, keeping her knees bent. Her right hand rested on her belly, while her left gently massaged her forehead. The moment caused a sudden rush of nausea to push up from the crypt of her gut, as it pushed up what little still remained within her. The unmistakable feeling pushed her back up, as she grasped the cool porcelain edge of the toilet. Her stomach muscles convulsed as she felt bile push its way up. Any bit of food and drink that was stored in her stomach had long since evacuated, now only her stomach acids remained. She felt the sickening taste of her own acids fill her dry mouth. She quickly spat it out into the clear water which resided in the command.
Tim softly wrapped his knuckles against the wooden door frame. “They're ready.”
Geisha turned her head slightly, as an exhausted sigh fell from her lips. She tried to get the words out, but they got stuck in her mouth, caught in the dry landscape that now occupied it. Finally, after the third attempt, she just nodded.
Tim gave a sympathetic smile as he extended a clean hand towel and a bottle of fresh water. “I’ll tell them to expect you in five.”
Geisha nodded again, as she eagerly grasped the offerings. She opened the lid on the bottle of water and shoved the fresh fluids into her system. The chilled water rushed in, quickly being soaked up by her lips and tongue. The excess spilled out the sides of her mouth and down her chin. After nearly inhaling the whole bottle in a single swoop, she soaked up the surplus of water with the fresh hand towel. She slowly reached her feet, flushed the toilet and turned to follow Tim out of her office.
“You might want to put something on,” Tim said with a slight chuckle as he nodded towards Geisha’s exposed chest, clothed only in her husband's dog tags and a very worn bra.
Geisha half muttered, half moaned out some sort of response, something to do with if it wasn’t so cold out she wouldn’t have cared, as she turned towards her bed to grab a shirt to put on. There on the floor, next to her bed, was a worn blue T-shirt and her jack, each article of clothing still laid peacefully where she had deposited them the night before. Multiple curse words violently shot out from her lips as it took her three attempts, to bend over and pick up the shirt and jacket. Finally, the article of clothing in hand she motioned towards the door, indicating for Tim to start heading downstairs. By the time she left her room, her shirt was on, inside out, but on all the same, and her jacket was soon to follow. As she stepped off the final step in the stairway, she had her hair pulled back, had finished the last bit of water, pouring some of it into her cupped right hand to splash on her face, and she was able to legibly convey words once again.
“How many are online?” Geisha asked as she gave a kiss to her husband's dog tags before she tucked them under her shirt, keeping them close to her heart.
Tim, now walking in front of Geisha as they made their way down the hallways, turned his head back some to answer, “Last check the Cain Boys in the Carolinas, The Hive, Stonewall is on, back at his place, plus the Cumberland in Kentucky.”
Geisha seemed to think about this, taking a mental roaster of who’d shown up. She created a cerebral checklist in her mind, with the name of each intended on it. If they were there, or others wise decommissioned she would place a check mark next to their name. After completing her checklist she quickly asked, “What about Texas?”
“I talked to them already. They won't be able to join us today, they’ve been getting extra visits from the Regionals. They will send a message later, but said, whatever we all decide their good with.” Tim threw back, tossing the answer over his shoulder towards Geisha.
Geisha snatched the response, processed it and stuffed it into her back pocket. She didn’t have any more time right now to do more than that with the provided information, as the pair entered into the buildings communication room. She was still wrestling with the eight hundred pound gorilla inside her brain, as it continued to bang around and smash everything within her skull. How could she had been so stupid to pick up that bottle last night? She knew that she had this meeting today. It took Tim calling her name out three times before she was even heard it. As she walked over to where he had indicated, she put her personal berating on pause for a moment, shelving the internal argument for a later time.
Within the confines of the communication room, there sat two rectangle tables, each ten feet long, and each outlined with folding chairs. They were positioned in a chevron formation, with the towns head communication guru sitting at the peak of one of the tables. Also sitting in was Butch, Ms. White, and the COB from the USS Michigan. Three large speakers were set up in between the table, their backs to one another, the sound cones were pointed out in a star formation. There was also a sloppy array of cables, cords, a few laptops, and microphones.
Gone was the day of video conferences, FaceTime, or group chats. In the new America, such technology basically is corroded and had retreated during the blackout. The little strands of such advancement are now only reserved for the highest level of Government. Then you add in the desire to do a synchronized conference, combining unites both inside and out of the new America, that was like pouring cold water on top of molting lead. It can be done, but its foolish and more often than not results in some form of injury. As they say though, desperate times and such.
“Are we already,” Geisha asked as she took her seat? She momentarily closed her eyes, and she pushed with her fingertips on both temples, willing herself to get past the pain.
“Yes ma’am,” The young man said at the main controls. “We won't have long, a few minutes at most. I’m going to try to bounce the single around, but, I can only do so much with the equipment we have.”
Geisha nodded, “I’m sure you will do your best.” She then looked at each of the other meeting attendees, “We all ready?” Each member nodded, indicating they too were ready and understood the urgency of the time provided. Once all in agreement, she turned back to the radio man. “Let’s get this going.”
The radio man nodded and began to rapidly type upon the keys of his aging laptop. After only a few taps a voice emerged from the speakers. At first, the voices stumbled out, popping from the speakers in sporadic spurts and convulsions. The shards of words, fell out of the speakers and landed awkwardly on the floor. After a few more seconds of keyboard tactics
, the first recognizable sounds triumphantly burst through the speakers.
“Hello! Anyone there?” The voice said, static still clinging to the edges of each word. The owner of the voice needed no introduction, his thick, backwoods, Southern accent was instantly recognized by Geisha.
“Franny,” Geisha called out, before pausing for a response. A few seconds later she called out again, this time framing it in a bit of urgency, “Francis!”
“Yes ma’am,” Franny quickly responded followed by a chuckle and a warm regard, “Is that my sweet painted girl?”
“The one and only,” Geisha responded with a smile. “Hold on a second Franny, I want to make sure we’re all here.”
“Yes ma’am,” Franny rapidly shot back.
“I’m here boss,” Brother Ben called out, his voice raising a hand through the speakers.
“Cumberland is here,” Danny said, making his units present.
“Dakota is with you,” the familiar voice of Stonewall eased its way past the black speakers, as it greeted everyone in the room.
Geisha nodded, even though no one other than those within the room with her could see the gesture. “Alright gentlemen, we don’t have much airtime, so if you could hold all question and comments till I’m done. First off, we have a newly arrived guest, who goes by the name Ms. White. She is going to give all of you a quick rundown on why we are here.”
Over the next three minutes, Ms. White laid out in a truncated and hurried presentation, the events of the past few months. She delivered the concept of what her team was hoping to discover by adventuring into North Dakota, as well as the desire to unit the different forces and attack the head of the newly formed government, even the King himself. Finally, in the deflating seconds, she shoved in the information gleaned thus far from the recovered computer hard drive, about the impending assassination of the current president and possible confident of those who dare stand up and resist. The last syllable in her dissertation faded from her lips just as the final second of the third minute ticked. Then just like that, she nodded back towards Geisha.
Without skipping a beat, Geisha snatched the conversation from the space between her and Ms. White, “I know that is a lot and I know everyone has questions. We’ll get into all of that later, for now, I just want a gut check, a quick yes or no. If we raise the flag, can we count on your respective groups for support?”
Silence poured out of the speakers and quickly filled the empty space within the communication room. Sporadically a faded crackle could be heard, chopping the deafening emptiness into more manageable segments. Geisha threw a sharpened glance towards the radio man, who used the top of his laptop to deflect the incoming accusations. His fingers frantically danced across the keyboard, punching in the code and typing out commands, till finally he hit enter and sat back. Instantly the speakers sprung to life like kernels popping, voices lurched out towards the meeting's attendees.
“Can you hear me, Geisha?” Franny’s voice asked as his question hurriedly roamed the communications room, looking blindly for some sort of recognition.
“Yes!” Geisha quickly responding, her answer jutting out, hoping to be in time to still catch Franny. “Did everyone hear?”
This time it was the radio man who spoke up, still taking partial shelter from behind his laptop, “Yes ma’am. Everything went out good, it was just the return, I had to scramble it for a moment, it looked like someone was tracking us.”
Geisha let out a very long sigh, as she resumed rubbing her head. She slowly raised her head and looked into the black microphone in front of her, “I just want to say one quick thing, I know we are running out of time. I admittedly have reservations about reengaging in another full on war. I lost so much, we all lost so much the last time. But that being said, I fear that the only way to true peace is through another conflict. So, with trepidation in my heart, I ask, yes or no?”
It was Franny’s voice that rushed up first and pushed its way out of the speakers, filling up the room, “We never stopped fighting. So when the rest of you are ready to jump back in the ring, we’ll be ready to take you in.”
In stark contrast, the deep and soulful voice of Danny from the Cumberland group seeped through, “Yes. You have the mountains.”
“I’m hesitant, but I can’t deny that things are changing. I will reach out to the rest of my group, but mark the Hive for a yes.” Brother Ben said, almost apologetic.
Finally, it was the recognizable voice of Stonewall that entered into the communication room, “No word yet from the tribes, but you will have me and my horsemen.”
“Thank you gentleman,” Geisha started, a timid smile starting to form on her lips.
“Ten-seconds,” The radio man quickly blurted out.
“Okay, we have to end, I will be in contact with each of you separately later. Be safe, and as always, God bless America.” Geisha rushed out her last words, pushing them into the microphone before the feed was cut. Instantly she turned towards the radio man, “We clear?”
He kept his eyes focused on the keyboard in front of him, as he finished up the last bit of code. He waited for another second, then looked up, “It looks like everyone is clear and safe.”
Geisha looked over towards Ms. White, “A lot of good people or putting their trust in me, and into the words you have said. If you betray us, or attempt to screw us over, I will personally string you up from the nearest flag pool. We clear?”
“Yes ma’am,” Ms. White said with a smile.
“Good, now if everyone will excuse me, I need to throw up,” Geisha said with a bit of finality.
27 The Cost
Philadelphia
Abandoned Office Building
Tommy slowly stirred a can of Spaghetti-O's, which rested upon a makeshift grill, as a blue flame from a steno can lick the bottom of the can. The spoon scrapping along the bottom of the can, as it pushed its way through the little O’s as they swam in the diluted sauce. The sound made by the spoon, rubbing up against the can seemed to dance all about the abandoned office. Off in the corner, a few feet away, laid Cherry, wrapped up in her sleeping bag. Her breath rose slow and steady, the shadows of it leaked out of her lips before dancing about in the light of the lantern.
“How do you like your Spaghetti O’s,” Tommy asked as he continued to rake the bottom of the can?
Cherry laid on her right side, the sleeping bag pulled up over her shoulder. Her arms partially protruded from the bag, as she held a book. The light from the nearby lantern draped across her body, misshaped lines and shadows slowly appeared, creating a bizarre image. Her breath chilled in the crisp night air, as it hung about her mouth and face.
As Tommy looked at her, he couldn’t help but imagine some low budget horror movie, where sleeping bags come alive and consume their intended residents. He imagined, from her posture and slow movements, that it wouldn’t be long till the internal digestive juices produced by this unknown mummy bag murderer, till she would be dead. After all, only half her arms still remained free, and as indicated by her frosty breath, her breathing had become labored and fading.
Cherry tilted her gaze over towards Tommy, who was now just standing there, staring down at her. The dull glow of the propane-fueled lantern, landed upon the glasses of Cherry, giving her eyes an eerily glow about them. This of course further Tommy’s imagination, and expanded his internal story about sleeping bags that consume unsuspecting victims.
“Is dinner ready to eat, good sir?” Cherry asked with a disarming smile. She waited a moment, but when there was no response, she looked more directly at Tommy. But Tommy wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at her body. “Hey Tommy, you alright?” She asked as she unzipped the sleeping bag some, allowing her to sit upright without any restraints.
This seemed to have snapped Tommy out of whatever trance he was seemingly wrapped up in. “Um, yes, yes. Your order of freshly heated Spaghetti O’s is ready for your consumption, my good lady.” He knelt down, placing the heated can of pro
cessed food down beside her, the spoon shot outward as if it was drowning in the sauces.
Cherry pulled up the sides of the sleeping bag, up under her arms, before she folded her legs within the silky confines of her slumberous container. She could still feel the warmth of the fire lingering within the confines of the can. Eagerly she scooped a spoonful of the imitation Italian delight into her vacant mouth. She didn’t realize how hungry she was till she had shuttled half the can into her stomach. Suddenly aware of her greediness she halted, mid scoop. “I’m sorry Tommy.” She mumbled out, food still swimming around between her lips. “You have the rest,” She gestured the half-full can of food towards him.
Tommy smiled, his gaze still partially vacant, “No,” He started, then paused towards the window off on the far side of the office space. “I’m not too hungry.”
Cherry started to say something, but the words refused to come up. They held on tight within her throat, clawing and scratched, nearly choking her. She gave a little cough, then tried to clear her throat, in an attempt to loosen the grip of the words, to give birth to the question. In the end, though, she gave up the struggle and allowed the words to sink back down into her gut. Instead, she looked at their newest accommodations. It wasn’t as open as the cabin in the woods and it wasn’t as lavish as the hotel, it simply was what it was.
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