by Mackey, Jay
Len looks at Jerry, as if for direction, but neither says anything.
“I could check with my dad tonight, and then maybe with my mom tomorrow, to see if they’ve heard anything,” I say. “They both have some contact with the administration.”
“I don’t know, kid,” says Len. “This is all hush-hush, you know. My guy is in Pounds’ government, so he knows. Your parents probably wouldn’t.”
“No, that’s all right, Len,” says Jerry. “If we got some verification, that’d be good, as long as your parents can be trusted not to let this get out. Last thing we need is to have this blabbed all over.”
“Yeah. It’s put my guy in trouble, they ever track back the source,” says Len.
Rachel walks over to Rob and says, “If we go into town, could you find some of your militia friends, ones you can trust, and see if they know about anything going on?”
He takes a deep breath and says, “Yeah.”
“We can check in with Jake, too,” I say. “He’ll have ideas about what to do. And maybe Flip, too, if anybody knows where he is.”
“I don’t know about Flip,” says Jerry. “He’s been bad news.”
“Yeah,” I say, “but he’s got a connection to Shanna, and she’s smart. Maybe she’ll have ideas that don’t involve shooting anybody.”
Two days later and we’re all back at Jake’s. It’s after dark and we arrive separately. All except Jerry and Len, who aren’t fugitives, and they drive up in Jerry’s pickup. That’s how we got to Lafayette, the pickup. I don’t know where he gets his supply, but Jerry seems to have a never-ending source of gasoline, and of vodka too, come to think of it.
Neither of my parents are aware of anything unusual going on with the Pounds administration. No troop movements, no preparations for anything that they’ve seen. Of course, what Len said is true: they really aren’t in positions that would allow them to see such things.
Rob saw one old friend last night, and he didn’t know about anything either. But he’s a low-level militia officer, so that, too, probably doesn’t mean anything.
There was one piece of good news that Rob got—he’s not on the list of suspects for the camp raid or the train fiasco. He thinks it’s because Wilson told him he didn’t divulge their relationship and gave the bike shop as his home address when he got arrested, so the authorities don’t have anything to link the two of them, other than the militia kid who recognized Rob when Wilson was originally picked up. But that information hadn’t come to light, so the militia kid must have kept his mouth shut. It doesn’t mean Rob is free, though; he’s still wanted for desertion. He hasn’t shown up for duty since Wilson was grabbed.
Jake is pretty skeptical about the whole war thing, especially since Rob says the militia doesn’t know anything about it. He asks Len to go back to his source and confirm the information and to let him come along, but Len balks. He says he’ll go double-check the info, and that Jerry can come because he’s met the guy, but says taking Jake might spook his source. Jake reluctantly agrees. He says that Shanna is the right person to bring into this and he’ll try to track down Flip and Shanna while Len meets his contact. They all plan to head out early tomorrow, and hopefully to get back together tomorrow night with answers.
Rob, Rachel and I hang out at Jake’s for what seems like a very long day while everyone else is out doing their things. I’m tempted to go see my mom again, just because I’m not far from her and I’m bored, but Rachel talks me out of it. I’ll want to be here when everyone gets back, she says, and she’s right.
Jake’s the first to get back, and he’s not alone. Flip is with him, and the two walk into the apartment midafternoon.
“Where’s this Len?” Flip bellows as soon as he’s through the door.
Rachel is napping on the couch, and Rob might as well be, but his eyes are open, staring at something only he can see.
I’m reading, or trying to, some book I found on Jake’s shelves, about an ancestry search gone wrong. “He’s not here yet,” I say, standing to greet them.
“Well, well,” says Flip, peering around at the three of us, “looks like the whole gang is here.” He sounds as upbeat as always. You’d think he’d be changed since the fiasco of the train, especially because of the loss of Rick, but if he’s feeling pain, or knows the pain that Rob is going through, or the rest of us, you’d never know it.
“Hey, this is big, huh?” he keeps talking. “Going to war with the good old USA? Man, I can’t believe it. We’ve got to definitely get to Shanna on this.”
The way he says her name, it’s like he just came up with the idea, and now he owns it, whether or not the rest of us had been talking about bringing in Shanna since yesterday.
“For being the most wanted man in town, or, hell, the whole RNA, you sure seem to be able to hide in plain sight,” says Rachel, stretching after her nap. Then she looks at Flip like she just realized who he is, and says, “I’m sorry about Rick.”
Flip looks at the floor. I can see him swallow. So, maybe he does have feelings.
“Thanks,” he says. But then it’s as if he puts on his mask again, and he continues, “Oh, hell, it’s not hard to hide. These militia types don’t want to do police work. The military guys aren’t trained for it, and the cops who are in the militia resent that they’re not top dogs anymore. Nobody’s doing any policing, unless you count shooting people as policing.”
“There’s some truth in that,” says Rob. “I had no interest in being a cop. And I knew a couple guys who had been on the Lafayette or West Lafayette police force, and they had no interest in being in the military.”
“Why combine them, then?” I ask.
“Simplifies the chain of command,” says Flip. “So the whole thing reports up through GG Wayne, and then to the president. No city or state command structures, fewer bureaucracies. Not that there aren’t still bureaucrats, but at least they’re all managed by one top guy.”
Flip looks at Jake and says, “Jake, assuming Len comes back and confirms the news, what do you expect Shanna to do?”
“Well, if it was me, I’d take it right to the president,” says Jake.
“Oh, shit, he’ll just deny it,” says Flip.
“So what would you do?” says Rachel.
“I don’t know,” says Flip. “I think we have to take action. Stop the thing.”
“No,” says Jake. “If he denies it, Shanna will have to challenge him. Make him prove what he says.”
“He’s the president. He doesn’t have to prove a fucking thing. I think we’re going to have to pop the guy,” says Flip.
That shuts us all up. Fortunately, we aren’t quiet for long. Jerry and Len arrive, and they have news. Len’s contact is positive about the coming war, and they say they went to a second contact as well.
“This guy went to his commanding officer yesterday, and saw the war plans, which he said were still being worked on. But he was told to get his troops ready for action.”
Rob is the first to speak. “Yup. We’ve got to pop the president.”
36
14 days until the Pulse Anniversary
“She’s been in there a long time,” I say. Jake and I are standing in the plaza in front of the Indiana Capitol Building, which is now the capital of the Republic of North America. Or at least, it’s where President Pounds is located at the moment, so I guess that makes it the capital at the moment. Indianapolis is Pounds’ latest success story, having gone through the same sort of law and order crack down by the militia that Lafayette got, plus they reportedly have some power and some running water, specifics still unknown.
Jake and I are waiting for Shanna, who’s inside the capitol trying to get an audience with the president, or at least with a high-ranking advisor. Jake had been right—Shanna seemed to know instinctively what to do with the explosive news that war is brewing. Of course her first reaction had been the same as everyone else’s: disbelief. But she’d been persuaded by Len, Jerry and Flip. She’d rejected Fl
ip’s entreaty to immediately barge into the capitol and demand an audience. Instead, despite the fact that we had little time to waste, she delayed until she could organize a sizeable protest.
“We have to bring some pressure,” she’d said when we first met two days ago. “If I charge in there first thing in the morning, they’ll just throw me out. But if there’s a big crowd, and reporters, particularly the foreign reporters who follow the president around looking for news, especially signs of dissent, then the president and his people may feel a need to address my issue and answer my questions.”
Shanna looked really good despite the fact that we’d arrived late and probably woke her up. Five of us had piled into Flip’s old car—me, Jake, Jerry, Len and Flip—as soon as we decided that we needed to get to her. Rachel was pissed that she didn’t get to come. (“Don’t even think about going without me, Mr. Can’t Think Any Further Ahead Than My Next Meal,” she’d said.) But Flip’s car only holds five, and that’s stretching it. The rest of them had to go—Flip, because he’s the only one who knew how to find Shanna, Jerry and Len because they had the intel that we were going to communicate, Jake because he didn’t trust anyone else, and me, because, well, because Jerry and Len decided I should go. If we’d piled into the back of Jerry’s pickup we’d have been able to take more people, but that was considered too risky because we’d be sure to draw attention with a truck bed full of people, and that was the last thing we needed. So Jerry siphoned some of his gas into Flip’s tank and the five of us headed for Indianapolis.
On the way, Flip commented that Rachel must really have a thing for me after seeing her little temper tantrum. I don’t know how he figured that. It seemed to me that she homed right in on the thing that made us break up in the first place—my supposed inability to have long-term goals and plans. But all the guys gave me a good-natured hard time, which actually made me feel more a part of the group than before, given that I’m so much younger than the others.
Jake and the rest agreed with Shanna’s plan, so we spent the next day rounding up people to attend the planned demonstration. That’s where I could be of some value, as we had to find and notify a bunch of people about when and where to show up. Since I can basically run all day, I could reach a lot more people than the others, especially since Flip’s car started acting up and we were all forced to get around by foot.
Now we’re all gathered here in the plaza, waiting for word from Shanna. Do we inform the press of the coming war and stage a protest, or has she been able to get the president to see reason and at least delay things? Flip’s on the other side of the plaza, close to the main steps to the capitol, talking with a group of people, at least one of whom I recognize from the camp raid. Jake points to a woman standing next to Flip who’s supposedly a big name reporter from London.
The crowd is amazing. I’m surprised so many showed up. If we reached fifty or sixty people yesterday, then each of them must have brought a bunch of friends, because there are hundreds here, crowding in, all waiting for something to happen. Some even have homemade signs. I see a couple of them that say “No More War” and one that says “Free Elections” but the signs haven’t been raised yet. People are standing next to them, leaning on the poles, the signs resting on the ground at this point.
I don’t see Jerry and Len. They wandered off earlier. I assume they’re meeting with some of the people they’d recruited for the demonstration, and it’s hard to find anyone in this crowd.
It’s hard to imagine being so close to the capital of the country. It’s where the Indiana governor’s office is located, which is where I assume President Pounds is sitting. There’s a big crowd starting to push and shove against the pressure of the number of people jamming in here. Back in the old USA, you couldn’t get anywhere near the president’s office. The security was way too tight. Here there’s a few Red Hats around the crowd, and several up on the steps near the door, but really, if the crowd decided to rush the doors, I’m not sure we wouldn’t be successful in getting into the building. And if we had weapons, it would be ugly.
Just as I’m thinking that, Jake elbows me and points at a group of Red Hats coming toward the plaza from off to our right. “Is that extra security or are they going to hassle us?” I ask.
“We’ll soon know,” Jake says. He turns and nods his head toward the door. “Something is about to happen.”
I look up and see the door open, and someone walks out. It’s not Shanna; a man wearing a coat and tie has walked out and is surveying the crowd from the top step. I see him take a long look in the direction of the advancing Red Hats, and then he continues down the steps and disappears into the crowd.
The Red Hats are causing a lot of commotion now, pushing their way toward the steps. I can’t really see how many of the Red Hats there are; I only see the tops of the hats moving through the crowd. There are a dozen of them, maybe more, I think. The Red Hats up on the steps are holding automatic rifles, but I can’t tell if the new group is armed or not. But they’re definitely being aggressive, pushing people aside as they move through. The whole crowd is now moving around. Getting out of the way, saying things, yelling out. It’s much more unruly all of a sudden.
“There she is,” says Jake.
Shanna has just come out of the doors. She doesn’t look happy, scanning the crowd as if she’s searching for a familiar face. She seems to spot someone, and shrugs her shoulders, holds up her hands, and shakes her head, looking toward where Flip had been earlier. I think her plan had been to come halfway down the steps and then address the crowd, but it’s now very noisy and the Red Hats are moving up to the steps.
“It doesn’t look good,” says Jake. Then, looking around, he adds, “What the hell is going on? These Red Hats are wearing masks. Damn.” He tries to push forward toward Shanna, and I follow in his wake.
A couple of the Red Hats are now on the steps, and they grab Shanna by the arms and escort her down into the crowd, which is packed close around her. From my vantage point, it looks like all Red Hats now, surrounding Shanna. They’re wearing what looks like black bandanas covering their faces. The Red Hats on the steps, the guards who are still up there by the doors, aren’t wearing masks.
People are yelling, clearly upset by the Red Hats and the way they pulled Shanna down the steps. Some voices are yelling, “Move, out of the way,” as the Red Hats are coming away from the steps now. But the crowd is jammed in. Lots of pushing and shoving. A couple people go down, and others are tripping over them. A knot of Red Hats is pushing people, and somewhere in there is Shanna.
BAM! A gunshot! It’s a bit muffled, and came from somewhere up near the knot of people. There’s panic. Screams. People are turning away from the steps, pushing back toward me.
Then two more shots, BAM! BAM! These I can see. One of the Red Hats is firing into the air. To scare people. To get some order. I don’t know. But the effect is that people are trying to run away.
I freeze, trying not to get knocked over by the crowd surging at me. Jake is pushing against the surge, trying to get to Shanna. “Shanna, Shanna,” he calls out.
I try to follow him, but am getting pushed around. Someone behind me falls into the back of my legs, knocking me off balance. I go to one knee and am able to stand before I go all the way down. I’ve lost sight of Jake in the confusion. The Red Hats seem to be moving back toward the street, retracing their route from when they arrived. It’s impossible to see if they have Shanna or not.
Someone with a sign comes at me. I get whacked, and the guy drops the sign in front of me, nearly causing me to go down again. The woman who fell behind me is still down. People are tripping over her. I reach down and try to grab her hand, to help her up, but she waves me off. I get slammed pretty hard by people trying to get by, and it’s all I can do to maintain my balance as I turn back toward the steps and try to find Jake. I push through a little gap in the throng and find a little space, allowing me to advance toward the steps, where there’s a group kneeling. It looks
like someone is down. It’s Shanna.
“What happened?” I ask a guy who’s standing at the back of the group.
“She’s been shot,” he says. “The Red Hats.”
“Did you see it?” I ask him.
He shakes his head.
I try to move in. Flip is kneeling over Shanna. It’s like he’s trying to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or something. I can’t tell. Jake is there with them. Others are crowding in, including several Red Hats, none wearing masks. One of them runs up the steps. After what seems like an hour but is probably just a couple of minutes, the Red Hat returns with another man. Two more people follow shortly. They all converge on Shanna, telling Flip and the others to stand back. The first man, dressed in a white shirt but no jacket or tie, seems to examine Shanna. I don’t know if he’s a doctor, but he seems to be doing doctor stuff. He stands and motions for people to pick Shanna up and carry her inside. Flip, Jake and a couple Red Hats grab arms and legs and awkwardly lift her, struggling to haul her up the steps. I grab a door and hold it open for them as they go inside. The doctor leads them to a little room off the lobby. I stand inside, watching. Then I see Colonel Williams, standing near the bottom of the grand staircase leading upstairs. He’s wearing his red hat and fatigues, and he’s glaring at me. I glare back.
Sure, arrest me now, just after your men have tried to kill the one real chance of peace and truth we have.
But all he does is nod at me. Clearly, he recognizes me, but he’s not coming after me. He moves quickly into the room where they’ve taken Shanna, and shortly thereafter Flip, Jake and the others come out. Jake looks glum as he sees me and comes over.
“She’s dead,” he says. “They killed her.”
37
Pulse Anniversary, 9:39 p.m.