Marcus was almost amused by the proximity of this CMA camp to Thomas’s ranch. He could drive there in fifteen minutes. Of course, he didn’t drive there. Thomas and the rest of the ARF leadership no longer wanted to be seen with him. They had to keep their connection a secret. They were sure that the CMA was suspicious of the American Right’s Foundation’s intentions. They were all especially spooked to find out the CMA had one of their headquarters locations right in their backyard. They became paranoid to the point that they only allowed Marcus to contact them through a series of encryption and closed network devices.
Marcus would have to type out his message on a computer that had no internet capability. The computer was provided by the ARF and had an encryption program that converted his message to PGP, which meant ‘Pretty Good Privacy’ format, or so he was told. He remembered getting a headache while the technician at Thomas’s ranch explained the process to him. He knew that both his computer and a computer at Thomas’s ranch held the cipher to decode his message. He would load his encrypted message onto a thumb drive. He would have to get permission to leave the camp, which was a process in itself that annoyed Marcus, and go to a local cafe. They only allowed Marcus to leave camp once a week on his day off. He was allowed to do work related trips in the helicopter almost at his own will. He was baffled by how little sense it made.
Thomas’s tech had set up an antenna at the cafe that transmitted directly to an antenna at the ranch. Marcus would have to sit in a specific seat in a back booth. There was a hidden USB port underneath the table to plug in the thumb drive. Once plugged in, the message would automatically download and transmit. Marcus could monitor the whole transaction from a small device connected right in the open. It was a smoke detector. A raging inferno could be right underneath it and it wouldn’t make a peep. All of this smoke detectors guts were removed and replaced with a simple circuit board that communicated with the antenna on the roof. It would indicate what was happening through a series of lights. If the red light on the left were flashing, it meant that his message was being uploaded and transmitted. If a steady red light on the right side appeared, it meant the transfer was complete. If a green light appeared in the center of the device, it meant a message was available for Marcus. He usually left the thumb drive plugged in the entire time he sat in the cafe and incoming messages were loaded to the drive automatically. He could then take the drive back to his computer and it would decode the message. Marcus thought it was all way too much work and worrying, but he didn’t mind the excuse to leave the camp. If anyone ever discovered the drive, they’d find some old pictures from Marcus’s college days and text files that looked like they were corrupted with a virus.
Marcus chose his seat at the conference table next to Kenneth. He dreaded coming to these meetings. He used to be able to be free at work. Free on the news. He had had his own segment for years where he could basically say whatever he wanted. Now he was an actor. He had a part to play. He had to be in character anytime he was anywhere outside of his room. He even wondered about his privacy in his own room. He had wished for at least a hotel to live in but the CMA wanted all the personnel, especially Marcus, living at the camp. His ‘room’ was a Conex container. He would have felt infinitely more comfortable in a cheap motel. Their strong desire for him to live nearby is what made him suspicious of his privacy. Was his room bugged? Had CMA personnel been listening in on his personal calls? Did he now have to keep up the act all the time?
Keeping up with being the CMA’s propaganda face was stressful and exhausting. Marcus’s mind was on a higher alert than it had ever been. His brain was working overtime. Any moment he thought he could relax and take the mask off, a CMA employee would arrive and he would have to instantly snap back into the role they expected of him. This wasn’t him. He wondered why he should be working so hard at pleasing them. They already knew his thoughts on much of what they did. He had broadcast it to the world for years.
“...and General Gray from the Southern region had reported the approximate death rate in his region has equalized with what other regions are reporting.”
What had Marcus just heard? Marcus didn’t even know who this man was. He looked possibly military. He wished he had been paying better attention now. Perhaps he could pull some of this information out of Kenneth later.
“Thank you for the report, General Bryce,” Anthony said. “That brings me to Kenneth, this is for you to pass on to the WWNL crew,” Anthony said, “the skeleton crew we’ve left behind at the WWNL building has now been relocated. They’ve had to evacuate several times in this last week because of fires on lower levels of the building. The levels of violence in the city only seem to be increasing so for the foreseeable future, this camp is work and home. The CMA, for the time being, won’t be getting too involved in suppression of these problems. We want to focus manpower on the camps.”
Marcus noticed that Kenneth didn’t seem affected by the news. He was taking notes like it was any other boring meeting he had been to in his life.
“Where have they been relocated to? Here?” Kenneth asked while still scribbling some notes.
“Um,” Anthony shuffled through some papers trying to find the answer. “I can’t tell you for sure but I think they are at a WWNL affiliate in Boston or Philly. I’ll find out for you.”
“As long as we are broadcasting without interruption. That is all I care about,” Kenneth said.
“We need to get Marcus out to Denver and Salt Lake,” the lone woman in the room said.
Marcus leaned forward in is chair. “What is going on there?” he asked. “And I’m sorry, who are you?” Marcus asked the woman.
“My name is Mara. I’m the head of the Western region camps. People seem to be more independent out West and the camps aren’t filling like we expected. We need you, someone that people recognize, know, and trust to help usher them in the right direction.”
“Oh, of course,” Marcus said. “Nice to meet you, by the way. What about other Western cities? Vegas? Los Angeles? San Francisco?”
“They each have their own problems,” Mara answered. “I want to focus on Denver and Salt Lake for now. Los Angeles is going as expected. It’s a nightmare. It’s ready for the next step.”
“Next step?” Marcus asked.
“We aren’t talking about that now,” Anthony said quickly. “We won’t be discussing that now.” His eyes shifted in between Mara and General Bryce. “We can have Marcus head out West right away. How about the day after tomorrow, Marcus?” Anthony was looking at his phone now, presumably checking a calendar.
“That sounds perfect,” Marcus said with a smile painted on. He pretended to no longer care about what the ‘next step’ was.
Marcus wanted to pay closer attention to the rest of the meeting. It wasn’t directly about him or his assignments so his mind seemed to wander. No, his mind wasn’t just wandering randomly, it was trying to process all the things he had just heard. There was probably plenty more he was missing right now as he was contemplating all this new information. It was as if every corner he turned there was some new surprise. What was this next step? Why would L.A. being a nightmare cause it to be ready for whatever this next step was? What had he missed about death rates?
*****
Marcus moved forward two steps at a time, sliding an empty tray down the long mirrored, metal surface. He was in the WWNL mess tent and hoped they might surprise him with some new mouth-watering dish. He peered ahead and saw it was another stew, his hopes shrank. He noticed the cooks had little to no creativity. The vast majority of the meals outside of breakfast were stews. They’d mix together all the food items for the day in a giant pot of water and serve it for lunch and dinner. Perhaps he was a food snob, but he thought it was getting too repetitive. He wondered if the CMA mess tent served more creative fare.
He retrieved his bowl of stew along with a piece of bread. He laughed to himself thinking this was the bland government bread he thought of in the past. He glanced arou
nd the tables. He spotted Kenneth alone at a table reading through his notes as he ate. Marcus’s mood brightened. He thought this should be easy to learn more about whatever these death rates were. He grabbed a bottle of water from an ice bucket located at the end of the food line and made his way to Kenneth.
“This seat open, boss?” Marcus asked.
“Please sit,” Kenneth said through a mouthful of food as he motioned across the table from himself.
Marcus situated himself across from Kenneth and repositioned some of the items on his tray. Kenneth brought all his pages of notes together in one pile and smoothed out the edges to straighten them all. He picked them all up and tapped the bottom against the table to help straighten them and then set the pile aside.
“Say, Kenneth,” Marcus said as he was bringing a spoonful of stew to his mouth, blowing on it, “what is meant by ‘death rate’? I know I’ve probably missed some meetings while out covering a story, but I don’t recall that being talked about before in any of the meetings I’ve been in.”
Marcus hadn’t planned on jumping right into the topic, but he just couldn’t hold his tongue with the level of curiosity he had. He shoveled a few more spoonfuls into his mouth waiting for Kenneth to finish a bite to answer.
“Yeah, you probably missed the meeting this was initially discussed,” Kenneth said. “It’s the rate at which the overall population is dying. It includes people killing each other, sickness from not being able to get medical help, the usuals such as old age. I’m sure there are some other categories that I can’t think of.”
“You are talking about this like it’s not a big deal,” Marcus said. “Are the numbers much higher than they were before all this began?”
“Look for yourself,” Kenneth said as he picked up his stack of papers. He flipped through a few before pulling a single sheet out and handing it to Marcus. “You really should pay better attention in these meetings,” he said with a chuckle.
“What!?” Marcus blurted out after scanning the page. “These numbers show over a thousand percent gain! Am I reading this correctly?”
“Lower your voice,” Kenneth said in a quieter yet commanding voice.
“Is the CMA doing anything?” Marcus asked, still not much quieter than before. “All this chaos began with the government’s recklessness and then escalated with the CMA takeover. How come I didn’t know all of this death was going on? I work for the news! Shouldn’t I be reporting this? I mean, I knew there was some violence going on, but this?”
“Marcus, are you trying to get yourself canned?” Kenneth said in a near whisper, hunched forward over his tray. He looked around at the surrounding tables to see if anyone was now focused on them. “The contract you had with WWNL doesn’t mean a thing anymore. It’s worthless. Anthony told me that he talked to you. He said you were on board with the CMA way. I was surprised to hear it since I’ve known you for so long and know how you think. I know you don’t agree with all of this. I just figured you wanted to end up on the good side of things. If you go spouting off things like you just said around the wrong people then they’ll boot you. I’m sure of it. They’ve kept you in the dark on some things because of how you lean...politically. They’ll bring you in fully, but you have to keep your mouth shut.”
Kenneth sat back and adjusted his tie. He glanced around again to make sure their conversation was only between them. Marcus looked around too, worrying that Anthony was about to pop up from underneath a table. He remembered the threat he gave him at the camp the day he met him. Was this task of being an inside man for Thomas and his group going to be too difficult for Marcus? Was he too vocal about his opinions? His life’s work was talking for millions to hear, of course, he was too vocal.
“Yes. Anthony did talk to me,” Marcus was now speaking quietly like Kenneth had. “I...didn’t realize this was something they didn’t want to be reported.”
“Of course they don’t want this reported. They want the CMA shown in good light. Ya know, how helpful they are being. They only have so many people. I don’t even know how many would even be trained to handle this,” he paused and looked up as if he were searching for a word, “civil war, I guess it is. People run out of food and supplies for a week and look what they do. I know it’s crazy. I don’t think the government or the CMA anticipated or wanted all these problems. They are dealing with it as it comes. There are just steps that need to be taken.”
“I just,” Marcus said shaking his head, “I don’t know. Do they know how many have died so far?”
Kenneth leaned forward again, “A few million,” he whispered. “I think it’s probably more than that. Don’t tell anyone else. And don’t tell anyone I told you. I don’t think we are supposed to talk about this outside of that meeting room.”
Marcus didn’t say anything. His eyes widened and he stared down at the table.
“Marcus, you’re my friend,” Kenneth said. “I’ve pushed hard for you to be a part of this. We’ve known eachother for a long, long time. We’ve helped each other out countless times as we’ve climbed the ladders in our careers. This is a major turning point in our country’s history. People will read about this for hundreds of years. Those words in the history book will be written by you and me. We have a chance to play a big part in this. You and me. It’s what we always wanted.” Kenneth had passion in his voice. He was speaking with animated, clenched fists. “The CMA is going to lead the recovery. They want you to be the face of the CMA. This is going to be a new and stronger country.” He sternly pointed a finger at Marcus. “Don’t screw this chance up.”
Kenneth gathered his papers and took the sheet from in front of Marcus. He got up, grabbing his tray and hurried off. Marcus watched him leave. He was dumbstruck. Why were they keeping the fact that millions had died and were still dying in the dark? Was there any point in hiding that information? He hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask what ‘the next step’ was. He needed to keep low now, he thought. This was the second warning. How many more would he be given before they got rid of him? He would keep low and still keep up the act, as stressful as it had been. No more slip-ups, not even in front of Kenneth. He needed to get to the cafe and get this latest information to Thomas.
He had kept Thomas in the loop over the past month and a half but still never gave him an answer about being a part of the American Rights Foundation’s plans. This latest news just made him more suspicious of the CMA. More suspicious and more frightened. Kenneth was sure they were a part of the solution but Marcus wasn’t buying it. There were many factors leading up to it, but this spike in death was directly caused by what the CMA was doing. Plus, they weren’t doing anything to help stop it. The country had descended into chaos and then now it was digging even deeper. They talked about death casually in meetings. They were talking about millions of people dying as if they were telling co-workers the weekend’s adventures by the water cooler. Marcus knew what he needed to tell Thomas. He knew exactly what he needed to do.
Chapter Eighteen
April 2037
“Do we have everything?” Lea asked looking down at the small, red, child’s wagon.
“I think so,” Will said. “I hope so. I don’t want to have to walk back for anything. Lewis will have tools as well.”
“Does everyone have their guns?” Beth added.
Everyone nodded.
“Well,” Beth said, “we have tools, guns, and water. I say we better get going. Can’t be lazy today.”
They all patted pockets and searched around them to make sure all items had been accounted for. Will, Lea, Juana, and Beth were now off, with only little groaning, on the almost two-mile trek to Lewis’s farm. They were to spend the day tending to the crops. Alejandro had left a couple of hours before dawn to meet Lewis and get an early start.
It had been two months since they decided to join together and hunker down at Beth’s property outside of town. Just as they had thought, Lewis refused to leave his place and join them. However, he did join them in t
he efforts of farming. He had most definitely been a wealth of knowledge for them. The six of them had filled nearly every open piece of land on both properties with seed and starter plants. The labor was the most strenuous they had experienced in their entire lives, save Lewis, who would do much of this labor normally on his own every year. Their backs ached from days of stooping low to dig and plant. Their fingers stiffened, barely being able to move for several days.
A couple of trips into town to check on the status of available food at the grocery store revealed how lucky they had been. It appeared that the pandemonium they had experienced the day Juana was injured had only magnified exponentially. What Alejandro and Will thought would be a casual stroll into town turned out to be a nightmare. They had assumed, wrongfully, that the situation had probably settled after a couple of weeks. As they approached town, they weren’t too surprised to see smoke rising from numerous points. It could easily be thought that the inconsistent electricity and gas problems persisted, which was exactly what Will had thought. Once in town, their jaws dropped in shock to see the charred remains of once familiar storefronts and houses. Very few of the rising pillars of black smoke represented cooking fires.
The next horror was when they noticed the bodies. There were bodies scattered here and there. In one parking lot, they noticed a small pile of bodies. Were these their friends? Maybe neighbors? The putrid stench made both Will and Alejandro gag and nearly retch. The only thing that made them able to bear it was the constant smell of smoke that thickened in waves. Even the smoke was a bit sickening after a few minutes of it wafting on their faces. It was as if they just happened upon a war zone. Where were the police? Where were the firefighters? There were people’s homes still burning. Where was the news? They had kept up with the news when electricity allowed it, which was most of the time. The news made it look like things were improving. They constantly showed the CMA camps and busloads of peaceful people being brought to a camp. Was it possible that large cities settled down and their small town was an anomaly? Yes, they knew the CMA camps were set up to help the people fleeing the violence in big cities, but the news showed a completely different picture. The group had discussed their thoughts on the matter at length, in wonder of what was going to happen to their country. They guessed that the camps were going to stay in place for some time due to the fact that distribution and supply chains seemed to be rerouted to them. They figured this out on an earlier trip to the grocery store. It was still empty.
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