Crashed: The Death Of The Dollar

by Cooper, William

  "I was starting to wonder if we were going to see you before lunch time," Jessica quipped.

  He tried not to smile too big.

  "So, we were talking last night after you went to sleep, and we were wondering about taking a lot of the produce we would normally sell and see if there's anyone in town really in need of the help that we could give it to," said Stacy.

  "Yeah," Jessica added, "It's hard to imagine that a government that couldn't keep it's money stable could do an efficient job of keeping everyone well fed. It'd just be the right thing to do."

  Apparently Taylor wasn't the only one concerned about everyone else. Mike wondered why he wasn't giving the rest of society much thought, other than being upset about what had happened to the nation he once served. He suddenly felt guilty for not thinking much about helping. But, he reasoned with himself, his first priority was keeping them provided for and safe. Venturing too close to town could risk the safety that their isolation provided them.

  "Taylor was asking about the folks in town too. I told her I thought we might could get close enough to look in on them from a distance, and maybe talk to someone on the CB to see what we can find out."

  "Yeah, but that's not really doing anything to help them," Stacy said.

  "I know. But it would be a way to find out if help is needed, while letting us keep a safe distance. I don't want to take any chances with y'alls safety. We'll go after lunch. Maybe we could try first with the smaller towns, like Hurricane. Anyone we could reach there would know what's happening in Cedar City or Saint George."

  After lunch they all piled in to Stacy's Suburban. Mike was very insistent that they pack a few days worth of food and water, and that they all had a gun with several loaded magazines, just in case.

  "Where are we headed to?" Taylor asked.

  "We're going down closer to Saint George. Hopefully we can get in touch with someone from Hurricane or Toquerville on the CB and find out what's happening."

  As they got about fifteen miles outside of Hurricane, just a few miles north of the town of Virgin, they encountered a group of around twenty or so people walking along the dirt road. They stopped, and a man stepped up to introduce himself. He was a tall and lanky man, around six feet tall, but probably didn't weigh an ounce over a hundred and fifty pounds. He was very clean cut with dark hair, and a few strands of gray. They guessed he was in his late 40's or early 50's.

  "Hello," the man said, seeming annoyingly jolly. "I'm Bishop Christensen. What bring you folks out here?"

  "Well, we've kind of been out of the loop since things went down about a month ago, so we thought we'd come to see how everything was going." Mike turned off the Suburban so he could better hear the man, and conserve fuel. "I almost expected to see towns burning down from riots over supplies, but from the overlook all appears pretty normal."

  "We got close to that happening I think," he replied. "The first ten days or so were organized chaos at best."

  "What happened?" Jessica asked.

  Bishop Christensen turned to his group and told them to go ahead, that he'd meet up with them at camp. "At first, when the semis would roll in, instead of backing into the loading docks at stores, they had the national guard escorting them, and the guardsmen would hand out food and toiletries to people. It was first come, first serve, so there were a lot of fights over things as silly as toothpaste. There were even a few shootings over food. The guardsmen were ordered to shoot anyone fighting or trying to cheat to get more than their share."

  "Oh my God!" exclaimed Stacy.

  The Bishop clearly didn't care for her choice of words, but continued. "Well, like I said, it was organized chaos at best. They ordered that stores be taken over, and then assigned some arbitrary value to everything and everyone. I guess the NSA databases tracking us all came in handy," he chuckled uncomfortably. "Now, people shop using their drivers licenses. They scan the bar code or swipe the magnetic strip. I hear they're testing using people's smart phones for ID like this too now in some areas. I don't know that anyone really knows what they're considered to be worth."

  "And people are putting up with this?" Mike asked.

  "Well, at first there were a lot of people who didn't have licenses that were being left out, so they reinstated food stamp cards to fix that for most of them. And a lot of the once wealthy folks have come to find that they can't afford a lot of the things they used to. But other than that, yeah, most people were just glad to have some type of structure back in life."

  The Bishop looked at all of them and hesitantly asked "Are you guys from that HLDS group east of here?" referring to the Holy Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. A polygamist group formed by a few former FLDS members after Warren Jeffs was convicted.

  "Oh hell no," said Jessica. "The three of us and my son all live together. He's our neighbor."

  "So that's just where things stand now?" Mike wanted to know.

  "Unfortunately not," said the Bishop. "All the major news networks, even the cable news, got shut down. Now we have only one news source. They call it 'New America News Network.' NANN. We now have a truly state run media.

  "Also," he continued, "the government has been hoarding the good foods and stuff, and a lot of the fuel, for the big cities. I guess they're more concerned about keeping control where there's millions of people. The only meat we've been able to get down here for the last two weeks has been the cheap logs of ground meat. A few people are getting other meat by hunting illegally and killing off what livestock is in the area. Some farmers from up around Enterprise tried bringing down some sheep and cattle to help out, but the Guard caught wind of it and took everything, leaving them stranded here. My sister and her husband, who live over in Santa Clara, ended up taking those poor guys home. Dang Guard even took their truck."

  "So all the good stuff goes to the cities now huh? Mike asked.

  "Yep. Word is though, that people's values can't buy much of it. If a family wants some good steaks, they practically have to give up a weeks worth of other food. Unless they have guns or bullets to trade in," Bishop Christensen said, with a somewhat depressed tone to his voice. "The guns aren't worth so much, but since all sales of ammunition were suspended when they assigned the values, bullets have become a hot commodity. People started using it some for barter, and the government caught on quickly. Another Bishop I know up in Provo said he traded in a brick of .22LR shells for a month's worth of fuel and fifty pounds of good cuts of meat."

  "Disarm the people, without telling them you're disarming them? Well, smart I guess," Mike commented as he shook his head is disappointment.

  "Yeah, but if I know him, he's got fifty more bricks of shells hidden around his place," the Bishop said, referring to his friend. "This won't go as far as the government hopes up in the city. At least not around the Salt Lake Valley. They're probably giving out steaks and fuel like crazy in cities like Los Angeles or Chicago, and up in the north east. And I don't think they'll ever get ammo for goods in smaller towns, unless it's the residents shooting to take the supplies."

  "I hear that!" Mike replied with a slight smile. "Well, I don't want to keep you from your group for too long Bishop. Where are you guys camped?"

  "Um, well, if you were to take that turn to the right back a hundred yards," the Bishop pointed back the way they had come. "We're down about two miles. There's a nice cove of cedars that we like to come to."

  "It was nice meeting you," Mike said as he got back in and started the truck.

  "Would you like a ride?" Stacy offered.

  The Bishop looked at Mike and said it wasn't a bad walk.

  "I insist," she replied. He nodded and hopped in the back next to Brad, who just silently and stared at the man as he attempted to make small talk.

  "He doesn't say much," Taylor told him as she rubbed her hand on Brad's head.

  When they returned to the ranch, Mike asked Stacy and Taylor to load up four baskets of produce from the gardens. "Jess, Brad and I are going to grab a lamb. We
're going to take those folks some good food."

  They got one of their largest lambs loaded up in a crate in the back of Mike's pickup, and put their baskets of produce beside the crate. "Why don't you and Brad stay here and cook up some dinner," Jessica said to Stacy. "Brad, you're the man of the ranch while we're gone, so you take charge of that grill, okay bud?" Brad gave a slight smile, then went stone-faced hoping to look more manly. He stood proud to be the "man of the ranch," as his mom had said. Taylor and Jessica slid into the truck and went to deliver the food with Mike.

  It was still only mid-afternoon when they arrived back at the camp. Some of the men had their guns in hand, not recognizing the truck coming. "Bishop! Bishop Christensen!" Mike called out. Another man approached the truck.

  "He should be back in just a few minutes," the man told them.

  Mike pointed to the bed of the truck. "You guys want some food?" Jessica and Taylor got out of the truck and grabbed the baskets. The others in the group had overheard Mike's offer and gathered around. "I'm assuming at least one of you know how to tend to it?" Mike asked of the men. Several of them nodded and said they did as they hurried to unload the lamb.

  As the men got to work killing and gutting the lamb, the Bishop walked up. He had a huge smile on his face as he saw what they had brought them. "Oh, praise the Lord!" he said excitedly. He looked at the trio who delivered the small feast. Jessica was holding Mike's left hand, standing at his side. Taylor was leaning her head against his shoulder. "Just neighbors I see," he remarked. Jessica and Taylor just looked at each other and smiled.

  "I'd like to talk to you again if you've got a few minutes to spare," Mike asked of him. The two men stepped off to the side, while the ladies all hugged each other and made small talk. "Look, I've got a ranch the government hasn't taken over yet. I'm sure the man who used to take my livestock to market won't be coming back anymore. And we certainly have far more than we need to feed ourselves. We've got some big greenhouses and a few acres we keep planted as well."

  "Oh fantastic," said the Bishop.

  "Now, I'm going to tell you up front that we're well guarded up there. Any surprise visitors will be met with .50 caliber bullets well before anyone is close enough to be a threat to us. The way the road winds, we'll be firing while there's still a few miles of rough road to get to us."

  "Understood," he replied.

  "Good," Mike said firmly. "Now, do you think we could work something out with you and some other trustworthy people around the Saint George area to set up somewhat of an underground food network?"

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "Well, I've got a twenty-six foot livestock trailer I could bring animals down to you every few weeks or so. We could meet up here. I should be able to bring a few cattle down, half a dozen sheep, and at least a dozen goats every six weeks or so. We could also bring down whatever extra produce we used to sell. You bring your own trucks and trailers to take it all from us," Mike told him.

  "And you want what from us in return?"

  "Trust, and information. I want to trust that you'll keep me... keep us a secret. At any cost, don't let anyone outside of those helping with the pickup know about us. Also, to trust that you'll do the right thing with the food, and make sure that those who need it most get it. And you continually find out all the information you can, local and regional especially, and keep us informed." Mike paused and looked at everyone so excited for the meal they were preparing. "Anyone finds out about us, the food stops immediately. And I just might come looking for you."

  "Absolutely," the Bishop happily replied. "I'll start talking to a few men I know I can confide in as soon as we get home tomorrow. When do you want to meet up again?"

  "I'll see you here about the same time next week. Bring a truck. I won't have any animals with me, but I'll fill a bed with produce."

  "Done." The Bishop stuck his hand out to shake Mike's, but Mike walked away. "Thank you so much for being willing to help out through all this!" Mike didn't say a word as he waved to the ladies that he was ready to leave.

  "One last thing Bishop. Here's a radio. Climb to the top of that hill right there, and you should be able to get a signal to us. Other than a beep to let you knew we heard you, don't expect any response. And don't use it unless it's really damn important."

  As he started to turn his truck around, the Bishop hurriedly waved him down to stop. "Excuse me, sir, but I didn't even catch your name?" he asked.

  "Why don't you just call me Thomas Paine," Mike said, prompting the ladies to chuckle.

  "Yeah, and I'm Taylor Paine, and this is Jessica Paine," Taylor added, laughing at the fake names.

  Bishop Christensen just nodded and smiled. "A lot of common sense in using aliases. We'll see you next week."

  "Nicely done, Taylor," Jessica said with noted sarcasm. "You practically introduced us both as his wives."

  “No I didn't,” Taylor replied casually. “For all he knows I could be his sister.”

  "Why the fake names anyways?" Taylor continued.

  "Because, if the name 'Mike Williams' gets spread around with what we're doing, the government will just pull the county records and know right where to find us. And now that they have a first name for Jessica, we have to be sure not to give out Stacy's name."

  "We're okay on that for now," Jessica said confidently. "We bought our property in Stacy's name. My name isn't on it."

  Mike looked relieved at this news.

  "So why 'Thomas Paine'?" Taylor wanted to know.

  "I don't know, that's just the first name that came to mind. He's one of my favorite authors. He wrote 'Common Sense' back before the Revolutionary War to inspire people to want freedom and independence from Great Britain," he told her. "I've got a copy at the house. You should read it."

  They all had dinner together at the ladies house that night. Brad was proud of his shish-kebabs he'd made, and Mike had him sit at the head of the table. Taylor spent more time talking about their trip to deliver the food than she did actually eating. Mike, in as few words as he could, told the others about the arrangement he made with Bishop Christensen. Brad, following Mike's years of example, gave him a nod of approval. The ladies were very happy to hear about it. Taylor and Stacy were both excited about getting to talk with other people somewhat regularly.

  After dinner, Jessica wrapped her arms firmly around Mike, looked up at him and said "You're a good man, Mike Williams. We're doing the right thing," and then she gave him a quick kiss.

  "I'm tired," he said, as he walked towards the door to go home. Stacy grabbed his arm and pulled him over to hug him. "Thank you. I'm proud of you too."

  Taylor walked past them, out the door, saying "I'm coming up to your place. I want to read that book you were telling me about."

  They walked in the door of his house, and Mike went straight to the bookshelf. He pulled out 'Common Sense' and handed it to her as he made his way to bed. "Oh, this should be a quick read," she remarked. "I'm just going to sit here to read it tonight."

  "You can take the little truck to go home when you're done if you want," he told her as he laid down.

  Taylor yawned several times as she read the forty-eight pages. When she was done she sat there in a daze, staring at Mike sleeping soundly. She felt too tired to want to go home, so she took off her boots and pants, and crawled under the covers to cuddle up with him.

  Chapter 5

  Reluctant Leader

  It was the last day of September. Fall was setting in, and it was starting to get pretty cold at night up on the mountain. Mike had been thinking about it for a few weeks, knowing this time of year was coming. His rammed earth house, with it's three foot thick walls, stayed pretty much the same temperature every day all day. The sun moving to the south warmed up the inside through the windows during the day, and the thermal mass of the home kept it comfortable at night without needing a fire until the most bitterly cold months.

  The ladies house was well built by standard construction practi
ces, but they were still complaining in the mornings about how cold it was getting inside. After tending to morning chores with Taylor and Brad, Mike went down with them to their house. "Good morning," he said as he walked in.

  "Good morning," they returned.

  "I've been thinking about something," he told the four of them. "You're all up at my home more than here most of the time, and you all spend the night on occasion anyways. I think I'd like the four of you to move in with me for the winter."

  Stacy and Taylor squealed with excitement. Even Brad got excited by the idea, yelling "Yay! Can I have the loft for my bedroom?"

  "Sure, boy," Mike told him. There were two lofts with an open area between them, but he knew Brad wanted the one to the east, above his room, with a view down the canyon.

  "Mike, are you sure about this?" Jessica cut in, dampening everyone's mood. "I know you're used to us being around all the time. But are you sure you're ready to have us all there every night?" Jessica was nervous, but not about the idea of moving in.

  "We'll be fine, Jess," he assured her. "Besides the daily living practical reasons, I do have another reason too. We know the government has gotten wind of our food program and been trying to stop it. Granted they could still find us up here, but not heating this house would slightly reduce our heat signature, for the thermal imaging they probably have in their drones. And I'd just really like to have y'all living up there with me."

  Mike was making excuses for himself mostly. He wasn't all that concerned about drones. And his last comment again set Stacy's and Taylor's emotions into overdrive. Stacy was completely in love with Mike and knew he was the closest thing to a husband she'd ever have way up in the mountains. Jessica felt the same way, but still didn't throw herself at him the way Stacy did.