"No, when Taylor sleeps in my room, it's just that. Sleep. She'll cuddle up with me and we're both out like a light in no time. I just kinda of go with the flow and let y'all decide whatever. You don't feel left out do you?"
"Nah. I like the sex, but it's just not a big deal to me. I know what we have is something different. Something deeper. I mean, I'm the one you opened up to about your past and everything. I'll always be your first kiss." She continued half jokingly, "And I'm the one with icicles on my tits listening to you complain about getting to sleep with two women." He grinned and she laughed. "As weird as it is, I just understand you. And when I'm too old to want it, and you're too old to give it, I know we'll still have something special."
"It's just all still weird to me," he said.
"Well," she jokingly added, "would it make you feel any better if I told you you weren't the first man we've ever shared?" She watched him roll his eyes and smirk. She was intent on cheering him up, and it seemed to be working. "Of course, you're the only man who's ever not paid a small fortune per hour for that. The first we both fell in love with. And you're the only one who we both want to spend our lives growing old with. And besides, we're two hot, vivacious women, and you're the only man for a hundred miles," she said, laughing again at her last wise crack.
"So anyways," he tried to change the subject. "Now I'm somehow supposed to help lead the way to destroying order and restoring the chaos of freedom? Me? A hermit who escaped society, is somehow the one people look to for hope. And it's not even the real me. I still can't find the words to tell any of you how I feel about you, yet I'm being asked to find the words to inspire the masses?"
"Mike, we know how you feel. I know Stacy wishes you would say it. But for me, and Brad, well, we know it by your actions. And actions always speak louder than words. Taylor just wants you to be you. Her big teddy bear.”
They sat quietly together watching the sunrise for a while before Jessica broke the silence. "Well, you know you're going to do this. So are you ready to stop trying to get pneumonia first and get started."
"How do you know I'm going to do this?" he replied, knowing she was right.
"Because, you're that man who just does the right thing. Whether it's taking firewood to some intruding whores, or delivering food to a man so irritatingly happy even Mr. Rogers would want to slap him. You always do the right thing." She got up and held her hand out to him to help him up.
"I think my leg's froze solid," he joked as he tried to get up.
"Come on, Mike. Let's get over here into your secret bat-cave and get you started."
They walked down the hill and into the cave. The warmth of the cave was a very welcome relief. Not that it was really all that warm inside there either, but after an hour for her, and three hours in the below freezing wind for him, it was a very pleasant change.
He stood at his base station and turned it on. "I don't even know where to start. What to say," he said, looking at her. She was taking off her coat and sweater. Then she slid off her boots.
"Why don't you start back here," she said, opening the hidden door. "Let's finish getting your mind cleared, and your body warmed up first." She bit her lip as she turned from him and walked towards the bunk room.
"Um, yeah. I like that idea," he said, following her.
A little while later, Mike was sitting at the base station, going over the computer controls to refresh himself on using his equipment. Jessica was warming up some canned soup on a camp stove he kept in the supply room. She sat quietly and supportively as he started trying to record his own voice. She didn't understand why he wouldn't just send out a broadcast, but knew he had to do this how he felt was best.
"Thomas Paine Radio," he said into his microphone. After a long pause, he spoke again.
"Live, with Thomas Paine." Again a long pause.
"The Freedom Show, with Thomas Paine."
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I dunno. Trying to come up with a good intro recording to start each broadcast," he said.
"Just stick with the first one. It's simple, and not too cheesy."
"Um, okay." He was hesitant, but trusted her, and didn't have any other ideas himself anyways.
"Hello, listeners, I'm Thomas Pai..."
"Welcome to the first broadca...."
"Dammit."
"Calm down, Mike," she told him as she grabbed the sides of his face. "Close your eyes. Take a deep breath." She hesitated briefly, then kissed his forehead. "Now, be yourself. No bullshit. Just get to the point."
"Tensions are high," he began. "And they should be. A couple of months ago, a collection of complex events outside of all of our control thrust us all into a new way of living. And for many of us, we've come to see life as 'us against the government.' We're wrong to look at it like that. The residents of our small towns, and big cities alike, look at the guardsmen and soldiers as the government. We look at that camouflage uniform, and we see someone with freedom, who's taking our freedom away. But that man holding his government-issued gun is no more free than anyone else. He's told what to wear, what to eat, when to eat, and who to hurt. He's an individual, just as deserving of freedom as any man, woman or child.
“Our government is just individuals trying to do what they believe is best, with an impossible burden on their shoulders with each decision they make and order they give. They have not set out to oppress our natural freedom. Their goals are noble. They seek to be sure we've all got the food, shelter, and medical care that we need to survive. To protect us from those who would do us harm. To seek justice for those who have hurt us. They are individuals. Human beings, just as free, and just as flawed, as the rest of us. While trying to serve the needs of many, they enslaved us all. Becoming slaves themselves to a system that was impossible to maintain.
“What we all fail to remember is, that they want someone to love them, and someone to love, just as we each seek to love and be loved. And what they've each failed to consider is that while they follow their orders to oppress us and our loved ones, someone else has been ordered to oppress, and maybe even kill, those whom they love.
“This may not be the message you all want to hear. But it is a message of truth. We were all born free, and we are all now oppressed. Reclaim your freedom, but seek freedom through peace.”
Mike paused, and looked up at a plaque he had on the wall. It was the same plaque he had hanging above his bed, and it's words meant more now to him than they ever had. He began to read:
"He that would make his own liberty secure must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself. - Thomas Paine, First Principles of Government. 1795."
And with that closing, Mike clicked the stop button on his computer screen. Jessica quickly leaned over to hug him tightly. "That was perfect," she assured him.
He set about typing on the computer for a few moments. "There. That will broadcast the intro and message at the top of the hour, every hour, on a random AM frequency each time.”
They finished up their soup together and started the long walk home. When they got back, the others were quite curious about what they'd been up to.
"Did you do a broadcast?" Taylor asked eagerly.
He didn't respond, but noticed Jessica shake her head, with a facial expression that let them know yes he did, but he didn't want to talk about it.
Everyone but Mike was huddled around the radio an hour later. He could feel in his bones that a storm was on the way, but was determined enough to avoid hearing his own voice on the radio to be out splitting firewood. They already had more than enough wood for the coming winter. Especially since all they'd gathered for the other house wasn't needed anymore. But it was a good way to let off some stress and stay away from the radio.
Mike had split nearly a full cord of wood and was sitting to rest on a stump when Brad came outside to help stack it. He walked up and patted Mike on the back with a big smile across his face.
Mike told him not to worry about stacking the wood for now, that they could tend to it later. Brad gave him a long hug. "Daddy, are you famous?" he asked with a childish innocence.
"I sure hope not son. Dear God, I hope not," Mike told him.
Brad squeezed him tight, then went back inside. Mike just continued to sit there.
After about twenty minutes or so, Taylor came out. "Brought your coat. Should I try to find a tent and sleeping bag, too?" she joked.
"Thank you," he said, as he put his coat on.
"This is all really eating at you huh?" she asked.
"I dunno. I don't really want to be involved. We've got a good life up here, and now expecting a baby next spring. I just like things as they are."
"So us moving in isn't the problem then?”
Mike was taken back by the question. "Hell no. Absolutely not. I love you. I love all of you."
"Damn," Mike thought to himself. "She throws me off guard and I'm finally able to say it."
He looked at Taylor. Her face was flushed with her cheeks all red. Her eyes glistening as she held back tears. "I know you do. We all know you do," she struggled to say as she hugged him.
She tried to compose herself before getting up to go back inside. "Look, why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll bring you a change of clothes. Maybe we can all play a game tonight or something. Try to get back to normal, whatever that is. Okay?"
Chapter 6
Making Sense of it All
It didn't last long, but Mike thoroughly enjoyed a few days of normalcy. Or at least his new normal with the four others now living with him. It had been five days since his broadcast began. He still hadn't listened to it, and still didn't want to. He was finally ready to listen to some other news though. They all were. He searched FM, since his own broadcast was set to go out over AM only, and tuned in to a man's voice.
"Rabble Rouser here again folks," the voice said. Mike just rolled his eyes. "Folks, my friend, Resistance General, Thomas Paine, gave us his first broadcast just a few days ago, and it has gone viral."
"Son of a bitch! This little bastard. Who does he think he is?" Mike didn't know who this man was. But the label of “Resistance General” is what really bothered him. Being identified like that could really draw in attention that he did not want.
"Before I play it again for you, I wanted to share that the prerecorded message from General Paine appears to be getting played nationwide by pirate radio stations like this one. And rumor has it that NANN is actually going to report on him tonight. That's right. The government's personal propaganda agency is rumored to be planning a report on General Paine and his message of freedom. I'll be tuning in, and if the rumors are true, recording it so I can replay it right here for any who miss it. For now, here again is Resistance General Thomas Paine..."
Mike quickly turned the radio off. He was in disbelief. Why in the world would his broadcast be hijacked and replayed he wondered?
"People want some inspirational call to arms, and I gave them a call for peace and understanding. This doesn't make any sense."
"Why don't we just turn on the real news?" suggested Taylor. "If they're supposed to report on you tonight, you should at least be able to hear other things for now."
"I like that idea," Jessica encouraged. "Turn it on, Mike."
So he tuned into NANN. "What the hell. We've not listened to the propaganda station of the nanny state in a while," he reasoned.
"… many of the gangs and terrorists who were launching attacks against American freedom two weeks ago are quickly backing down. In what seems to have started out of Las Vegas, a nationwide structure appears to be taking shape under what may well be just a single man. We'll have more on that tonight. But for now, as law and order begin returning to our streets, I do believe we can all enjoy a sigh of relief and the peace of mind that terrorist attacks appear to be over for now,"
Mike got up and walked out. He didn't care to listen to any more. "Resistance General? Terrorist?" He though to himself over and over. He didn't feel like walking the entire way, so he got in his truck and drove out to the flat a hundred yards from the cave. He was shutting his broadcast down. All this was making him too nervous for his own safety, and his family.
Stacy was out looking for him as he came back. "You shut it down, didn't you?" she shouted across the yard to him.
"Not like it matters. Didn't you hear that lying little shit earlier? It's been recorded, and shared over and over," he fired back.
"Well, wasn't that kind of the idea?"
"I don't know what the hell the idea was. It just... I... dammit. I just don't know right now how comfortable I am with this."
"Hey," Stacy grabbed his hands. "Calm down. This is me you're talking to. We're going to be fine. Don't make any emotional decisions right now. Just put this out of your mind for now. We'll see what they say on the news tonight. And whatever decision you make from there, you'll have our total support." She moved her head around to make him look her in the eyes, then gave him a quick kiss before pulling his hands to get him back inside.
Just before they got to the door, Brad came out with the modified, hand-held two-way radio. "It's for you, Daddy," he said. Mike paused for a moment, and just before hearing a voice, remembered that he'd given the Bishop the other radio.
"Can you hear me? One for yes, two no." Bishop Christensen called out.
Mike returned a single beep.
"I'm not going to use names or places. But can we meet tomorrow at 11 am?"
Beep. Beep.
"Can you meet earlier?"
Beep.
"Would 9 am be good? That's the earliest I can make it."
Beep.
"See you then."
That was the first time the Bishop had contacted them on the radio since he gave it to him. "I wonder what he wants?" Stacy wondered out loud.
"I'm praying it's just to give Jess her maternity clothes," Mike replied.
"Me too! I'm about to have to start wearing bed sheets soon if not. These pants are squeezing the hell out of me," said Jessica.
They spent the rest of the day working on sharpening knives and the blades of their meat grinder. Mike and Brad cleaned the hooks and frame of a hanging rack he'd built for butchering animals, and then got out all the guns for cleaning. It was that time of year. Hunting season. It was staying cold enough outside to keep the carcasses nicely cooled so they could age without going bad, but wasn't yet dropping low enough to freeze them.
He spent every October harvesting their meat for the next year. Stacy still couldn't bring herself to do it after six years up there, offering to make up for her lack of help by doing everyone's cooking, cleaning, laundry, or whatever was asked for. She'd do pretty much anything to avoid handling the animals until they looked more like what she might get at a grocery store or meat market.
That night, Taylor asked if they were all going down to meet the Bishop.
"Yeah, I think so. It'd do us all some good to get out for little bit. And I'm probably going to need all of you to keep me from wanting to strangle Captain Smiley," Mike told them.
"No kidding," Jessica chimed in. "The way your attitude has been lately, that man is bound to make you lose your temper again."
Mike felt bad about that, but she was right. He had been very temperamental for much of the last week and a half. "I know. And I'm sorry," he said. "I hope you all know that none of it has anything to do with any of you, or y'all moving in," he then looked at Jessica intently "and it certainly isn't because of the baby."
"I know that!" she insisted. "It's all this silly nonsense with the Bishop, food drops and radio."
"Give us a little credit here, Mike," Stacy threw in. "We know you well enough to know what's going on."
"Um, excuse me" came the quietest voice at the table. "I think I should stay home while you all -"
"Absolutely not!" Jessica cut him off like it was a reflex answer to that question.
Mike sat quiet for a moment. He'd neve
r challenged Jessica's decisions with Brad before, but figured he had the right to do so, and right now the boy needed some backup. "Why not?" he asked her.
He had seen that look before. Jessica had never used it on him, but he'd seen that glare and knew what it meant. It was her "Don't question me, and don't speak again," look that Taylor had received frequently in her early teens. He didn't know if he was being more daring or more dumb than the other three sitting there, who'd all received that glare at some point. But unlike them, he was going to continue speaking. "I said why not?"
Taylor looked almost scared as she grabbed Brad by the hand to lead him away. She'd never heard any one say something after Jessica had given them that glare, and wasn't eager to see how she'd respond. Stacy tried to cover her smile as she held in a laugh. She was going to enjoy this.
"I said no," Jessica glared again at Mike.
"What are -"
"NO!" she said more loudly and firmly.
Mike was, in a twisted sort of way, enjoying himself. "That boy knows how to do every damn thing on this ranch, and does it all daily." Mike matched Jessica by dropping his voice a few octaves and speaking up. "He rides his bike out into the woods almost every day without us there. He'll be ten in a month, and I see no reason he can't stick around the house for a few hours without us."
Crashed: The Death Of The Dollar Page 7