by T W Powell
“Let’s make a deal, Bobby Ray. We’ll find us a book about PT Boats, you can read it, then you can tell me all about PT Boats.”
“That’s a deal Junior! But I’ll need your help.”
“You can count on it, amigo.”
“Now you know about the Bataan Death March and what your great, great uncle endured for his country. The Collective won’t talk about this and, heaven forbid, they don’t want you to read about this. They want to keep all the Members ignorant, ignorant of their history, ignorant of God, and ignorant of their country. That’s why they want to eliminate books. Books are printed. You can’t change printed books, at least not easily. If everything is online, it can be changed with a few keystrokes.”
The Blow-by-Blow
“What time did you get in last night?” Tasha was chomping at the bit to hear Beth’s story.
“Not until 2. It takes a little while to bicycle home from Butchertown.”
“So, your stud lives over there?”
“Yes, he works on a tow boat moving barges on the Ohio River. He’s away from home most of the time, so I don’t have to worry as much about him blowing our cover.”
“You haven’t told him anything about us?”
“No, and he hasn’t told me anything about himself.”
“Did he bang your brains out?”
Beth was now strategically changing her blouse in a manner that thrust her hickey onto center stage.
“Jesus Christ, Girl. Was that guy trying to swallow that tit whole?”
“He really likes my boobs, particularly my nipples.” Beth knew that Tasha was envious of her rather nice set and took this opportunity to rub it in.
“God, now you’ve got me all horny. Please tell me you got off.”
“For only a couple of minutes the first time.”
“The first time?”
“Yes, then we took a little nap and when we woke up, he really worked on me and I went totally crazy.”
Beth continued her story as she was walking out of the apartment, “That’s when he exploded. I barely had the energy to make it home.”
“Beth, wait a second. You can’t go yet. I need more details.” But Beth was already out the door and on her bike, leaving Tasha alone and totally frustrated.
Back on the Ranch
As Tom predicted, Tommy and Adam made it home before dark. The whole extended family came out to meet them.
“Boys, where’s your father?” Patty Jackson was almost in tears, expecting the worst.
Tommy reassured her, “Mom, he’s OK. He’s up in Kingston helping those people get ready.”
Grandpa John inquired, “Get ready for what?”
The boys then gave everyone the Cliff Notes version of what had transpired up in Kingston.
“Let’s take Miss Daisy and the horses on up to the dugout and unload all those supplies up there.” John was giving directions rapid fire as he led Miss Daisy. Like father, like son.
“We’ll leave that BAR and ammo down here at the triple-wide. If
anybody tries to come up that lane, they better be driving a tank. If not, this BAR will chew their ass up and spit it out.
“Until Tom returns, the plan is simple. The triple-wide is our first strongpoint. If we can’t hold there, we fall back to the old stone house. Our last strongpoint is the dugout. We should store everything we can’t afford to lose up at the dugout.”
Adam was stroking Daisy’s withers, much to her delight. “What about the animals Grandpa John?”
“We’ll take all the horses, cattle and goats to the corrals on up the creek. There’s a lot of cottonwoods up there, plenty of cover from above. We’ll put ‘em in the chain link enclosure. That will keep the big cats away.”
Shortly after dark, everything had been unloaded and situated.
Grandpa John looked at his watch, “Let’s have supper down at the house, but from now on, we carry at all times.”
The family made their way back to the triple wide. Gabby and Grandma Betty warmed up some leftovers and Grandpa said grace, “…and please Lord look after Thomas and our friends in Kingston.”
As they ate, the boys filled everyone in on the details of the action at Kingston. Adam abruptly stood up, put one finger over his lips, and pointed his right index finger upward. Adam had been blessed with remarkable senses. He had a nose like a bloodhound, hearing like an owl, and the eyes of an eagle. Whenever Adam said he heard something, it was time to shut up and listen.
Grandpa John quickly shut off the lights and opened the back door and a window.
“If I say run, spread out, stay low, keep quiet, and take different routes to the dugout. Don’t bunch up.”
Tommy whispered, “I hear it now. Sounds like that Apache.”
Grandpa was reaching for the BAR.
Tommy grabbed his arm, “No Gramps, that won’t work. The helo is armored.”
Grandpa looked at Tommy aghast, “Sweet Jesus.”
A bright searchlight beam was now crisscrossing the Jackson homestead.
Adam noticed that the beam kept coming back to the triple wide, “Dad said they might have infrared. They may be seeing the heat from the cookstove.”
After a few minutes, the spotlight went out and the rotor noise
gradually faded away.
Tommy spoke up, “No more cookstove, or any other heat in the buildings. We can use the microwave or cook on an open fire away from the house.”
Grandpa John followed up, “That’s right Tommy. We spread out tonight. Me, Betty and Patty down here, Carlos and Gabby in the old house, Tommy and Adam in the dugout. Let’s finish our supper and spread out.”
Weaving the Web
Tom asked Ray to give the high-tension cable project top priority.
Ray had assembled a crew of teenagers and was getting them organized, “OK Slim, make sure that you keep that trough full of well mixed paint and don’t stand around sniffing it, you fucking huffer.
“Johnny, tie the end of the cable to the burro and have him pull the cable through the trough.”
“Jill, as the coated cable comes out of the trough, you make sure them young’uns keep the fans blowing across the cable and keep those mirrors focused directly on it. As the sun moves across the sky, you’ll need to adjust those mirrors. We’ll string the painted cable over those old cars in the boneyard to finish drying. I don’t want it laying on the ground.”
Ray had a regular assembly line going, but going for what?
“Thomas Jackson, we’ve been painting wire for two full days. I’ve got God only knows how much wire painted. Now what do we do with it?”
“Ray, when I was over in Okinawa, my best friend was a Zulu Cobra pilot. He hated powerlines. He told me that 1 in 20 helo accidents involved powerlines. Can you believe it? I didn’t, so I looked it up. 5% of helo crashes do indeed involve powerlines.”
“Tom, that does seem a bit high, but I never really thought about it.”
“I hadn’t thought much about it either until the other night after that Apache blew the Church all to hell. You ever notice in some of those old newsreels from World War II where they show all those barrage balloons in the skies above London and over the beaches of Normandy?”
“Yeah, I always wondered what all those balloons were for. They looked like blimps.”
“All those balloons had cables hanging down. They protected that entire area from low flying prop planes. They were really effective at night.”
“OK we got the cables, they are painted black, but where are the balloons?”
“Don’t forget, our cables are not just painted black. They are now virtually invisible on radar.”
“Yeah, but where are the damned balloons?”
“Don’t need them.”
“The hell you say.”
“Those attack copter pilots practice ‘Nape of Earth’, NOE, flying in high threat areas. They love mountainous terrain. They fly low and fast between terrain features and that masks their radar, IR, and noise signa
tures. Also makes them hard to see.”
“You cagey son-of-a-bitch. String those cables across some of the narrow canyons up Kingston Creek then draw them in.”
“You got the picture. Let’s select several narrow canyons and lay our trap. None of our people can be in those canyons. We need to get high up on the walls of the canyon and crisscross the canyon with our modified cable spider web. Doesn’t need to be taught. Better if it’s not straight. Then at dusk, we light several campfires scattered around the floor of those canyons.”
Tom made his way back to the Saloon, “Pastor Williams, I’ve got to go home, but I’ll be back in a couple of days. Ray will fill you in on what he is doing. Identify combat veterans among the populace. Pick out some good men as your sergeants. Use those utility poles to make roadblocks and bunkers. Keep the people safe. On my way out of town, I’ll spread the word that you’re in charge.”
“Tom, I’m a minister. Are you sure?”
“Doc, you’re the shepherd of this flock. It’s up to you to protect them from the wolves.”
The Itinerary
All morning long Beth was kept busy taking vitals on several high-profile Members of the local Collective. They were asking all sorts of questions focusing on immunology and viral transmission. They all wore face masks. Something had them spooked.
From their questions Beth figured that they didn’t know any specifics, but the rumor mill was obviously churning. Doc Pham had not arrived, and it was almost noon. Beth was wondering if crazy Jo really knew her stuff after all.
Just after Noon, Doc Pham arrived at the Clinic, “Member Andrews, I need to speak to you immediately about your vacation plans.”
Beth replied, “Yes Member Doctor.” She had no clue what Doc was talking about as she entered his office.
Doc sat down at his desk and muted his workstation. He placed his Peoples’ Phone in the middle of his desktop. He even left his office door wide open.
“Member Nurse Beth, please have a seat.”
Doc Pham gave Beth a wink, “Your request for a short leave of absence has been approved. Two weeks minimum, to be extended upon request. May I ask what you plan to do during your vacation?”
Beth had to think quickly, “I will be traveling the Ohio, Cumberland, and Mississippi Rivers as a passenger on a tow boat. My purpose is to experience the Peoples’ United States from a worker’s perspective, not as a tourist.”
Doc Pham had to fight hard to hold back the laughter, “That is a worthy endeavor Member. You have left your Whiteness far behind you.”
“Thank you, Member Doctor Pham.”
“Then it is confirmed, your leave will begin day after tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Member Doctor.”
“Member Nurse Andrews, would you join my wife and I for some lunch. Sort of a celebration of your well-deserved vacation.”
“How thoughtful, Member Doctor. Most certainly”
As Doc, his wife, and Beth headed out to lunch, Doc Pham whispered to Beth, “Tasha couldn’t have played it better.”
It was a short walk from the POP Clinic to The Red Dragon Buffet, Doc Pham’s favorite. The Dragon had good food and was convenient. After the trio made their way through the buffet line, they seated themselves. Almost imperceptibly, they bowed their heads and gave thanks in silence.
“That was a nice ad lib performance Beth. We probably had an audience.”
Beth nodded and replied, “So, what’s going on?”
“Jo was right, once again. Day after tomorrow, I depart for the Bay Area. I was tasked with forming my own team to assist in the vaccination program. The Collective doesn’t want anyone to know the purpose of our trip to California. So, your tow boat story is a good cover for you. I’m just telling everyone that we will be visiting family in Arizona.”
Beth had Yasmin on her heart, “Then you can take Yasmin along?”
“Thank God yes. I don’t know how we can ever thank you for the
warning, Nurse Beth.”
Dr. Yen Pham was speaking now as only a mother can speak, “You saved our daughter from this diabolical program.”
“Yes, Yen and I are eternally grateful. But this is only a temporary reprieve. Eventually we must return home.” Ho was desperately trying to figure out how to escape this terrible situation, permanently.
Beth reassured the Phams, “Let’s thank the Lord for the reprieve and pray that He shows us the way.”
Since the enactment of the Green New Deal, followed by the Green Decrees, air travel and most interstate auto travel had virtually disappeared. Rail travel was the only viable option.
Doc Pham shared the details of their trip, “We depart from Louisville Station on the Windy City Express day after tomorrow at 7:05 a.m. We then transfer to the California Zephyr and arrive in the Bay Area two days later. Passage has already been booked.”
“What do I tell Tasha?”
“That story you told me sounds pretty good.”
“You may be right. She already thinks that I spent last night with a tow boat deck hand. She will swallow my tow boat vacation story hook, line, and sinker.”
“We meet Jo again tonight. One hour later, at the Fountain on St. James Court.”
The Dead Drop
After their lunchtime break, Bobby Ray and Junior continued bicycling westward along US 60, which was called Shelbyville Road in the Louisville area. The Bluegrass countryside was now giving way to suburban sprawl made all the more unsightly by The Collective’s influence. Since everyone owned everything, nobody owned anything. Trash was everywhere. Paint was peeling from windows. Landscaping was overgrown and untended. The town stank.
As they approach the I-265 interchange, Junior motioned for Bobby Ray to follow him up a gravel driveway off to the right. An abandoned white frame farmhouse stood at the end of that driveway, about 100 yards off the main road. Three wide stairsteps led to the covered front porch, you know, the kind of porch that screams out for a nice porch swing. A single incandescent 100-watt light bulb was suspended from the front porch ceiling by a long cord. The cord was tied in a loop with a slip knot. A concrete block was sitting on the far-right side of the middle step up to the porch.
Junior surveyed the scene, “Do you see anybody, Bobby Ray?”
“I think we’re alone.”
Junior pointed to the light bulb hanging and the concrete block, “The loop in the light cord says we have a message. That block on the right-hand side of the middle stair says we meet Jo, tomorrow night.”
“Who in the hell is Jo?”
“Jo is one badass bitch that packs a fucking Colt 45 and ain’t afraid to use it. She might not be too happy about you tagging along with me. So, you hang back. If she talks to you, be respectful and chill.”
“Junior, you act like you’re afraid of this Jo person.”
“Damned straight I’m afraid of her.”
“Her name is Jo? What’s her last name?”
“I don’t know, and don’t you ask.”
Junior then pulled the light cord straight and placed the concrete block on the ground, resetting the dead drop.
“Let’s camp in back of this house tonight. Tomorrow we’ll go see Pops and Pop-Pop, then we’ll see Jo tomorrow night.”
Art Class
As Junior was picking up his mail, Tasha’s class was in the midst of Art Period. The medium today was colored chalk. It was Artist’s Choice Day today, so the students were completely free to express their own ideas and feelings.
Jennifer was an extremely talented girl of Jamaican descent. Tasha anticipated that Jennifer would have a future in the Arts.
Toward the end of Art Period, Tasha strolled by Jennifer’s desk, “Member Jennifer. What a striking picture, very intense colors.”
Jennifer had drawn a bright rainbow arching over a large ship and animals were marching off the ship, two by two.
“May I ask what this represents?”
“Member Brown, this is my representation of a story someone
recently told me.”
Tasha entered sly mode, “I’m not certain that I know this story. Who could give me some more details?”
“Oh, just ask Member Yasmin. She knows this story and many more.”
“Member Jennifer, when you finish, could I have this beautiful picture to hang in my home?”
“I would be honored, Member Brown.”
That evening at supper Tasha unrolled Jennifer’s drawing for Beth to see, “We got ‘em Beth.”
“We got who?”
“Doc Pham! This is the smoking gun?”
“Smoking gun? Looks more to me like Noah’s Ark!”
“Exactly. Jennifer, a talented student in my class, drew this today. When I asked her about the subject matter, she told me it represented a story that Yasmin Pham told her. The Phams are Christians.”
“Tasha, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
“Conclusions, my ass. I caught the Pham kid saying grace and now she’s telling Bible stories to the Class Collective. I have no choice. Dr. Pham must be denounced. The only question is when do we denounce him? How can we best use this?”
Beth switched gears, “OK, I think you should gather more evidence and hold that information until the right moment, then use it as our trump card.”
“I totally agree. Good thinking. I’m glad you’re with me on this.”
“Tasha, this should make our Social Quotients skyrocket. I’ve got some other good news.”
“Is it about Mr. Tow-Boat Stud?”
“Yes, it is. I’m going out again tonight.”
“Girl, can you handle another night like last night?”
“The question is, can he handle another night like last night?”
“Beth, I never knew you were such a flaming slut.”
“Then you really won’t believe the rest of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Day after tomorrow I’m taking a couple of weeks off to ride the tow boat with him.”
“That’s not all you’ll be riding. My God, you’re getting me all worked up again.”
“In that case, I’ll be going and see if we can get a head start on the evening.”