by A. M. Flynn
Donnie needed to be gone.
It would infuriate his father. But those people were beyond talking to. They enjoyed living like this too much to stop. They wanted all they could take, more than their share.
Times were bad. People were forced to get along together to survive. But not the Russells. What they wanted was what Phin had called danegeld. Protection money. The Russells wanted to be paid so that they didn’t commit mayhem in the surrounding towns. Pay up or pay for it, was how they negotiated.
Some towns paid up. The council had decided years ago not to negotiate with terrorists and that’s what the Russells were.
There could have easily been cooperation in this area but that would have required working along with everyone else. The Russells were like the rogue government. They wanted what wasn’t theirs, what they didn’t work for.
Maybe that’s what set the council so against them. There wasn’t anything to be done against the government. With elections suspended, it wasn’t possible to vote politicians in or out, so everything remained the same with the same pigs feeding at the trough. But the Russell family could be resisted. It wasn’t necessary to give into their strong-arm tactics and violence and greed.
This time the council could be pushed no further. Donnie Russell had to be taken out of the equation.
Wolf knew the problems would only escalate. But there was a price everyone had to pay to remain free even in this country now. Everyone could be a slave in their mind or free in their mind. That was a choice to be made each day. For some it was an unimaginably difficult choice. How much were they really giving up if peaceful subsistence was the reward? What good was freedom? What good were their own thoughts? What difference did it make?
To Wolf, there was no choice. He had been raised to be a free man and he would die with dignity as a free man.
“We’ll do what we said we would do,” Wolf replied.
“Roger that,” Reilly said.
WOLF DROVE UP THE PURCHASE to the Cook house, pulled into the dirt driveway then stopped. He got out and went to the door.
Erica appeared after a few moments. “Hi. She’s in the studio.”
“I have a load of firewood on the truck for you. You’ll have to off-load it yourself. Do you have work gloves?”
Erica bit her lip and nodded.
“Okay then.”
Wolf picked up an armload of wood and walked across the yard to the barn. He gave the door a tap with his foot. “A little help here.”
He heard footsteps running across the wood floor, then the door opened.
“Hi,” she said in surprise then stepped back so he could enter. “Did you bring that for me?”
“Yes.” Wolf walked across the studio.
“I was trying to sound less gushingly grateful than I am. Did I manage at all?”
“You sounded very casual. Do you have some kindling? Old papers?”
Sophie went to the wastebasket and followed him to the stove.
“Does this thing work?”
“Don’t you just put wood in and light it on fire?”
“No.”
“Do you mean like my mother had the chimney cleaned out here and in the house, in case we got wood. Somehow. The neighbor helped.”
“Ron. Yes.”
Wolf crouched down and worked on getting the fire going. As she handed him wadded up papers, he saw the bluish tinge to her skin. It was hardly warmer in the studio than it was outside.
The fire started to catch, he opened the vent and shut the door. “When it catches, you close the vent enough to give it enough air to keep it going but not go out.”
Sophie nodded. “Okay. Why did you do this?”
“You’re cold.”
She put her hand on his arm. “That was really thoughtful.”
“You’re going to have to pay for the load of firewood I brought. Nothing is free.”
Her smile evaporated. “What do you want me to do?”
“Sheesh, I’m not one of the Russells.”
“Sorry.” She turned away and walked back to the drawing board. “I’m just so scared all the time. I never felt like this before. I expect...”
“I know. You expect the worst. We all do and that’s smart. Let’s take one thing at a time. Let’s deal with keeping you warm now.”
“What can I do to earn firewood?”
“I showed the sketch you did to some people in town. We thought this might be a good Christmas present for people with children.”
Sophie shook her head, not following him.
“You could do portraits in exchange for firewood. We do a lot of bartering in the community. You can work it out. Maybe someone doesn’t have firewood but has something someone else needs.”
“Sure. I could do that.”
“Can you frame the artwork?”
“I think my mother can make frames.”
“Not of metal,” Wolf replied with a wave of his hand to the statue garden that looked like a junk yard visible in the field outside the studio.
Sophie had her smile back. “No, of wood. We...don’t have any finished wood.”
“There’s a lumber mill on the other mountain in town. You’ll have to talk to Clarence.”
“How do I get there? I can’t walk that far, can I?”
“I’m working on a way to get your mother’s car converted but she’ll have a hard time paying that off because it’s expensive. We all had our conversions done before bottom.”
“I swear to you I’ll pay it all back. Somehow.”
“Don’t swear to me.”
“I don’t want to be in debt.”
“I’m glad to hear it. If you really feel that way, everyone will help you. I just hope your mother...”
“What, Wolf?”
“This isn’t meant to offend you or hurt your feelings.”
“I understand.”
“Your mother could detract from your efforts.”
“I’ll get her to behave. I know she rubbed everyone the wrong way.”
“She did.”
“She does it to me, too. I know she’s got or had some pretty stupid ideas, but she meant well.”
“Yeah, people who meant well got us here.”
“She’s not a bad person.”
“There’s a term for it. Useful idiot. She believed the lie. That it was all for the greater good when it was all just to take the goods from us and give them to those who think they are greater than the rest.”
Sophie looked at him for a long moment. “I have a confession to make.”
“Well, you’re not pregnant.”
“Wolf.”
“Everything is a continuing series of bad news. What can you add to it?”
“My great-grandmother was a prominent Lucian.”
Wolf groaned. “What did I tell you? What was her name?”
“Sophie Koch. Koch is German for Cook. The family changed our surname over fifty years ago. I’ve been embarrassed about it my entire life. Or at least since I found out. Have you ever heard of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire?”
“No.”
“Immigrant women were seamstresses in the factory and there was a terrible fire. The managers had locked the doors so they were burned alive. Sophie’s sister was one of them. She wanted to do something to prevent that from ever happening again. She wanted there to be laws providing better working conditions, better pay, more immigrant rights.”
“It was a tragedy, I understand that.”
“Lucianism was brand new and shiny. It spoke out against these injustices.”
“All the elites were falling for it. I know. It’s required reading in school here.”
Ferand Lucian born in Europe in the late 1800’s, claiming no country as his homeland, instead claiming all countries as his home. No borders for him or anyone else. People became overly protective and greedy when things were designated as theirs. Everyone deserved everything they needed.
It was so simple.
&nbs
p; Lucian was said to have a speaking voice unlike anything anyone had heard before. He gave speeches. No one came to listen at first, then the crowds began to gather. He wrote his ideas down and was able to extend his reach further than his voice. People began to follow him increasing numbers.
Just another crackpot, like so many at the time, but he was better at it than most. There seemed to be something about Lucianism that attracted people who would otherwise be defined as dangerously insane.
“I know she drew the wrong conclusions and went about it the wrong way. She was always a hero to my mother because she was painted as an early feminist, a woman warrior.”
“You’re telling me this, why?”
“Because I don’t want you to hear this from someone else. I don’t want you to think I agree with the social politics of my family. My father is an idiot, too; she met him at a protest rally. You’re proud of your father.”
“I am.”
“I can’t say that of mine.”
“Where is he?”
“Who knows? I don’t know that they were in love, I don’t know that they were in like. She raised me on her own. He didn’t have any input in my life and I don’t know that I would recognize him if I saw him.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, you’ll hear it soon enough. Someone will tell you I went to a special school.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. It’s a well-known school for students with learning disabilities.”
“What’s your disability?”
“I can’t read very well. The letters move around quite a lot.”
“In reality you see them move?”
“Not on the page. The way my brain processes the letters. They don’t stay in place long enough to become words. I got better at it. For a long time I couldn’t read at all. Now it’s just hard. Slow. Work. That’s what I miss now, books. I had a digital reader that read to me.” Sophie shrugged and smiled. “We do have a generator but can only afford to run it about an hour a day. That’s not long enough to charge the battery after we get water, do the necessary things.”
Wolf understood the predicament. Power was at a premium. Most people in the area had natural gas wells on their property from before bottom. The Harndons did. If gas was the currency of the day, anyone with gas was as wealthy as someone in these parts could be.
Erica Cook had been famously against drilling for natural gas. She was probably sitting on Marcellus Shale with nearly unlimited resources but that wasn’t a choice she liked and attended every town hall meeting to let everyone know. No drill no spill before bottom. No drill no electricity after bottom.
“Attending a special school doesn’t seem like the end of the world,” Wolf commented, leaving off the part that they had reached the end of the world as they knew it anyway.
“People will make it seem like there’s something seriously wrong with me like I bang my head against the wall or chew on my arms.”
“You draw beautifully so I don’t see how there could be that much wrong with you.”
“You’re very kind and I appreciate all you’ve done. I’ll try to pay you back.”
Wolf nodded. “I better get getting. I have a meeting this afternoon.”
REILLY PUSHED A BOTTLE of beer across the table to Wolf.
“No, thanks.”
“It’s not like you’ll get arrested for it.”
“Someone has to stay sober since you won’t.”
Reilly drained his bottle and picked up the one meant for Wolf. “What’s the point?”
“We have to keep going.”
“What for?”
“Because we’re here. There must be a reason for it.”
“It’s all random.”
“Show up at church once in a while.”
Reilly shook his head.
“I don’t want to do anything that would dishonor my father. He would have expected...”
“He would be proud of you. I don’t think he’d be put-out if you had a beer.”
“The answer’s still no. I want to take care of Donnie before Thanksgiving.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Timing is all.”
“Why did you bring a load of firewood up to that city woman?”
“It’s getting onto winter, Reilly. She’s cold.”
“Who cares about them?”
“That’s the point. Someone has to.”
“I don’t see it.”
“She was raped.”
“The daughter, yeah. That’s not so unusual these days.”
“She’s scared. She’s cold. I don’t want to turn into the bad guys. My father wouldn’t want that.”
“The city people are taking you for a ride. Using you.”
“If that’s true, that’s okay. I’m doing the right thing.”
“You’re going too far out of your way for her. What’s her name?”
“Sophie.”
“Yeah. Reyna says she’s got mental problems.”
“She doesn’t and don’t repeat that to anyone. She’s got enough to deal with; she doesn’t need gossip and lies. You would know better...”
“Yeah, I know, if I showed up for church.”
Wolf nodded as he stood to leave.
SOPHIE CAME INTO THE kitchen from the studio. “Mom, I need to have a serious talk with you.”
Erica had made a barley and kidney bean stew for dinner. She found she had reverted to her family’s traditions in order to provide meals. Grains and beans were affordable; meat was rarely within her means.
There was still some work for her as an artist, not as a sculptor, but sometimes one of her old friends in the city would think of her and give her an assignment. There was still postal service a few times a week, not always predictable or reliable, but Erica had no choice. There were no choices anymore. That was hard to accept.
“Okay. Dinner’s ready.” Erica held out a bowl of stew.
All the lanterns they had were in the kitchen and lit.
Sophie pulled out a chair and sat as her mother placed the food on the table.
Erica sat across from her.
“Don’t go all defensive. But here’s the new reality. Keep your thinky thoughts to yourself.”
Erica’s fork paused in mid-stroke. “Excuse me?”
“For your entire life you lived in an echo chamber. Your parents, your friends, your business people, customers, all think the same way. You never heard anything else. It doesn’t fly up here.”
“We care about people.”
“Did they bring us firewoood? Do they do anything for you? No.”
“Everyone is struggling.”
“Even the rich people who bought your ironwork?”
Erica didn’t have a comeback.
“No. It’s all just thinky thoughts.”
“What does that phrase mean?”
“Fantasies about an unattainable utopia that make your com...” Sophie thought for a moment, wanting to choose the word carefully, “compatriots feel good without doing good. Did any of your friends ever work in a soup kitchen, a homeless shelter, or volunteer at a hospital?”
“No.”
“But you showed up to get the right politicians elected. The ones who said the things you wanted to hear. Who promised all the stupid stuff.”
“Sophie. I don’t know where this is coming from. It wasn’t stupid.”
“Yes, Mom, it was. Once you can accept that, your life, our life will be better. People who thought the same thinky thoughts got us here.”
“Your great-grandmother would be so disappointed in you.”
“Not half as much as I am with her.”
“Is this supposed to turn into my Come to Jesus moment?” Erica asked pushing back from the table.
“Everyone knows we’re Jewish, so no. Call it your Come to Moses moment.”
“You want me to start reading the Bible?” Erica snapped back.
“It’s better than the bullshit
you’ve been reading all these years. Here’s an idea. Make Judaism your religion instead of the thinky thoughts. Believe in something that’s lasted three thousand years, not something babbled by some guy with his eyes twirling in his head a hundred years ago.”
Erica put her plate down on the counter. “I’ll eat later.”
“Accept that the government bled this country until it was white!”
“Everything they do is for the people.
“Everything they do is for themselves!” Sophie shouted as her mother left the room.
This was how it always was between them.
This was why Sophie chose to attend school in another state instead of in the city and why, when she learned she would have to leave school, she nearly went into a panic. She asked the dean if there was a way to work off the tuition. She would do anything, work in the cafeteria, mop the floors, give up her room and sleep in a closet. There wasn’t anything. Almost all the students had financial trouble and the school administration didn’t know how long they could remain open. One dorm was closed to students and the rooms rented out to people in town who had lost their houses. Times were tough.
So Sophie came to live with Erica and tried to avoid her as much as possible. The nearly non-stop thinky thought lectures were unbearable. It was all someone else’s fault. If only this if only that. Her mother couldn’t accept the reality that the very people she admired for their philosophy that mirrored her own had broken the back of the system. They were still living high on the hog while everything collapsed around them.
Erica couldn’t let it go. She clung to these beliefs like a life-preserver. Every conversation became an argument. That’s why Sophie had been out walking when Donnie Russell came upon her.
After it was over and she was trying to get home, Sophie had felt the experience was a personal physical manifestation of what had happened to everyone.
Then Reilly stopped the truck and brought her to town.
And then she met Wolf.
HE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR.
“Come in.”