Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  Dublin leaned away from me, the loss of her brief touch on my arm already greatly missed.

  “I tell you what Mr. Reese Neeson…Mr. celebrity, how about we start this at that table over there in the corner? I would like to ask YOU some questions, and you can ask me about things too, and then after that, after we get to know each other a little better, I’ll decide if I want to spend the time showing you around Dominatus. Do we have a deal?”

  I sensed my smile spreading across my face – willingly giving in to the charm of Dublin Meyer.

  “That sounds just fine, Ms. Meyer. After you…”

  As Dublin rose to walk the short distance to the designated table, I glanced back at Mac and saw him giving me the a-ok signal as he prepared two newly poured beers. Without looking back herself, Dublin’s voice rang out in mock anger.

  “Mind your own business Mac.”

  Mac’s eyes widened momentarily as he mouthed the words “good luck” to me. I could hear Keith laughing quietly from the other side of the tavern. Following behind Dublin I sensed the very real possibility this was the hopeful beginnings of one of the most important conversations of my life.

  VII.

  Dublin took off her jacket and placed it behind her chair, before sitting down herself and looking across the small table at me. I caught the slight smell of lavender from her, finding the scent as appealing as her appearance. Seemingly satisfied with both her seat and her beer, she initiated the continuation of our conversation.

  “So Reese, how long have you been transmitting your program on the short wave?”

  “About….almost ten years. I started when I was in my late twenties. The Internet had become much too dangerous, highly monitored. So, a friend I had at the time suggested short wave radio as a way to get around the government controls, and it worked. It’s still working. You use the same thing up here, right?”

  Dublin gave a nod before taking another drink from her beer.

  “Yeah, my grandfather has been using it for some time. Just about everyone has one up here, especially handhelds. We change the frequency often to keep our communications as private as possible, but if they are listening in we don’t really care. We just go on living our life up here.

  “So, if you started ten years ago, that makes you about thirty-five years old right?”

  “Almost thirty-nine actually. Which is a couple years older than you, right?

  Dublin shook both a finger and her head at me.

  “Now how would you know that?”

  It was my turn to smile.

  “Research.”

  Dublin took another sip of beer, her eyes peering at me over the glass.

  “Research, huh? I see. So you already know a lot more about us than we know about you.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Certainly Mac knows a lot about me…and I’m sure your grandfather does, as well.”

  There was her smile again - my heart raced. I realized my initial attraction to Dublin was not lessening the more we spoke, but rather increasing at an alarming pace.

  “Aren’t you worried they’re going to shut you down? Lock you away? Charge you with anti-government propaganda, or whatever mandate violations they are throwing at people these days?”

  I shrugged.

  “I know it’s always a risk, and that is another reason for this trip. The government presence is much less up here, so it gives me some time to evaluate where I might go after this.”

  “Or maybe you stay in Dominatus?”

  The suggestion sent my mind racing. Was she simply being kind, offering nothing more than a general invitation to stay, or was Dublin hinting that perhaps she found a similar attraction to me as I did her? I made a concerted effort to appear nonchalant.

  “Perhaps, we’ll see. I planned on being here at least a week or so. After that, who knows?”

  “You mentioned your father – what about your mom? What happened to her?”

  I felt myself flinch slightly at the question, the memory of my mother’s death still hurt a great deal.

  “Both she and my brother had been killed during a daytime home robbery. The killers were never found. They were tied up and shot…in the back of the head. That was just over five years ago. My dad…he never forgave himself. Believed it was possible his own efforts to combat the New United Nations may have been responsible.”

  Dublin’s eyes softened in sympathy.

  I paused, trying to remain composed while sensing the rush of still painful emotions welling up from within. Unlike my father, whose death from cancer afforded time to prepare, the killing of my mother and brother offered no such preparation. They were there – and then they were gone.

  “My dad thought it was possible he was to blame because of his work with representing people who had come up against the Feds and then later the New United Nations. He never knew for sure, but the possibility always hung over him until…until he was gone too.”

  “And your dad died of cancer? That doesn’t happen much anymore, not since the vaccine.”

  “Yeah, a very rare form. The doctors said there was nothing they could do. He just kind of faded away little by little until there was nothing left of him. Just a shell that finally stopped breathing. Looking into it, cancer deaths…I found out that it’s almost nonexistent for government workers. Not one death in almost ten years, and in the civilian population, those few that still die from it, there’s almost always a connection to anti-government activity. Like they’re being killed off. I know that sounds crazy but…that’s what the statistics were pointing to.”

  Dublin’s hand reached across the table and once again grasped my arm lightly.

  “Nothing sounds crazy to me anymore Reese. We all understand what the authorities are capable of, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if they had some program like that. In fact, I’d be more surprised if they didn’t.

  So, you want to interview me Reese? We can start now if you want.”

  I knew Dublin was intentionally changing the subject for my benefit, once again sensing my discomfort. I took my recording device out and placed it on the table.

  “Sure – uh.., if you don’t mind, can I ask you if there’s another person in your life…besides your grandfather?”

  Dublin’s eyebrows raised, and she cocked her head slightly to the left.

  “Is that a formal question for the taped interview?”

  I put both my hands up defensively.

  “Strictly professional – I assure you.”

  “Ok then, the answer to that would be no. Taking care of my grandfather, and doing my part around here, that takes up pretty much all my time.”

  “And you’re ok with that?”

  Dublin took another drink of beer and nodded.

  “Yeah – I am. I’ve always been pretty picky about relationships. And frankly, I’m just grateful to have a place like this to call my home. Most people, they are living in a whole different kind of world. The kind of world that has a lot more rules…mandates, than we have up here.”

  “So can you explain to me, how do people pay for things in Dominatus? Food, services, the beer Mac serves, is this some kind of attempt at socialist utopia?”

  Dublin’s face contorted with disgust at the suggestion.

  “Oh god no! That’s what we left in the Lower 48! No, it’s nothing like that at all here. Each of us has to contribute something. We have to offer a service or goods, something that can be sold or traded for other goods or services. You can ask my grandfather about this. He calls it the free market in its purest form. Mac for example, he keeps a tab on anyone who comes in here for food or drink. That person is then responsible for paying him back. There’s a few guys who might fix a roof, or dig a ditch, run some new plumbing, repair a generator, whatever. Or, maybe they must pay him off with a new shirt, or boots, or even gold or silver. Basically, whatever they agree to between the two of them is how it works.”

  “So it’s the barter system?”

  “Not quite.
Not always. Sometimes people will barter, sometimes they will just pay with gold or silver. Things like that.”

  “How do you pay? How will you pay for that beer?”

  Dublin glanced over at Mac who was cleaning the top of the bar at the other end of the room.

  “I built up enough credit with Mac last summer to keep me beered up good for another couple months. I am one of the produce suppliers in Dominatus…love growing things. We have our greenhouse that allows us to grow year-round, so I’m part of a group that handles that. And what I grow that I don’t need for myself and my grandfather, I use as currency to get other things…beer, clothes, ammunition, whatever.”

  “And that works for everyone? What about somebody who doesn’t know how to fix things, or doesn’t grow produce? Are they given things for free?”

  Dublin shook here head.

  “No – that’s just not allowed. I’m not saying that during a particular tough winter maybe some people aren’t helping out others for a short time - that kind of thing is actually encouraged. Overall though, people are expected to provide something of value for something else of value. Basic market economics, right? If nobody produced anything, if people just sat back and got things for nothing, then eventually enough people would stop working and our little system here would collapse. Just like what happened to America.”

  “And what does your grandfather provide?”

  “Simple – he provides Dominatus. Every person who comes here, if allowed to stay, is given a lease for property. They are allowed to build a home on that property but they also have to make the lease payment. That payment might be food, some kind of service, whatever is decided between them and my grandfather. Mac over there, he provides security services. That’s what he’s done for my grandfather since he came here, and that allows him this property where his business sits.

  “Grandfather provides other things too of course. He has spent, I don’t know how much exactly, but I know it is a great deal, keeping the authorities away from Dominatus. We get the occasional visit from Carol, a few drone fly-overs in the summer months, but other than that, we have pretty much been left alone.”

  “Officer Denny said the Old Man, your grandfather, was running out of resources to keep doing that. Was he right?”

  Dublin looked down at the table and took a deep breath before replying.

  “Maybe…I don’t ask, and he doesn’t say much about it. He created Dominatus over twenty years ago though, so yes, Carol might be right. Maybe he is running out of resources.”

  “Doesn’t that worry you?

  “I suppose a little, but Grandfather is just like people call him…a very old man. He could be gone from us tomorrow, and then what?

  It was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

  “That’s an excellent question Dublin – then what? It’s going to happen some day, your grandfather’s passing. Is there a plan for when that happens?”

  “He says we are to just go on like we normally would. No differently than people have been doing here for the last twenty years.”

  Dublin’s beer was finished, as was my own. She turned away to call over to Mac.

  “Hey Mac, how about a little Fever before we head out of here?”

  Mac looked over and gave Dublin a wink before making his way back to the jukebox where he input the request. A moment later the opening of Elvis Presley’s version of the song Fever began its slow and sultry creep.

  Dublin stood up and looked down at me, tipping her head in the direction of Freedom Tavern’s small ten by ten dance floor.

  “I don’t get the chance to dance as much as I would like, Reese, so how about it? A little slow one before I give you the tour?

  Without giving them permission, my feet seemed to take control of the situation themselves and I found myself moving to the dance area, Dublin’s hand now held in my own. The smell of lavender again greeted me as we began to move together to Presley’s low and purposeful delivery of a song he had recorded when the United States still existed as it was before the old world died away – a song, like so many songs recorded by Elvis and other artists, that had been banned by the New United Nations mandates for being “racially insensitive”.

  Dublin’s head nestled against my chest and I found myself for the first time since my father’s death, feeling almost completely content in the moment. Unfortunately, the song ended, and the moment dissipated.

  Dublin looked up at me and then stepped back, giving the same mock curtsy she had given Keith after dancing with him. I hoped my face didn’t betray my disappointment.

  “You’re a gentleman, Mr. Reese Neeson, and a lady always appreciates a gentleman.”

  “The pleasure…the pleasure was mine Dublin. Thank you.”

  Dublin retrieved her coat and gave Mac and Keith an enthusiastic wave.

  “Heading out boys – I’ll have him back after dinner tonight.”

  Mac answered back, his voice pretending seriousness.

  “You make sure of that now, young lady. Don’t make me have to come get him. Oh, and Reese, your tour guide is about as close as I’ll ever come to having a daughter so you keep that in mind yourself too. Be a good boy.”

  As Dublin and I made our way out into the cold early afternoon of Dominatus, I took a second to look back at Mac and offered him a middle fingered salute as the door to his tavern closed behind me. Mac’s laughter rang out, followed by his voice yelling from behind the door.

  “You’ll fit right in here, Reese!”

  VIII.

  The drone was not seen by either of us until it flew directly over our heads, no more than seventy feet off the ground. It traveled with a slow purpose – the shiny globe of its surveillance attachment peering down and likely sending the images back to some compliance operative in Anchorage.

  As we watched its course above our heads, Mac hurried outside to follow the drone’s slow path as well, before voicing his disapproval.

  “Not sure if they are attempting intimidation or doing actual recon work. Either way, this ain’t good. And this one was right on top of us before we knew it was here. That’s not supposed to happen.”

  Mac’s face took on an entirely different level of seriousness as the sound of at least one approaching vehicle bounced off of the nearby trees.

  “Shit.”

  That one word was followed by Mac dashing back into Freedom Tavern with incredible speed for a man of his years. Within seconds both he and Keith were outside. Keith held a handgun, the same Glock 19 model Mack had offered me yesterday. I was only mildly surprised when I turned to see Dublin now holding the same model of gun as well. Mac’s weapon remained holstered at his side. I recalled him telling me yesterday that a sidearm should only be removed if its owner was prepared to kill another human being.

  Mac turned to both Keith and Dublin, giving them detailed directions, his words coming out slowly, almost soothingly.

  “Keith, I’d like you to jump over to the tree-line. Stay hidden, hang back, but be ready. And Keith, stay calm. It’s very important you stay calm.”

  Keith immediately jogged to the nearest trees that stood just sixty or so feet from the tavern’s entrance, disappearing behind one of the larger evergreens.

  “Dublin, you head back to your cabin. Tell the Old Man – your grandfather, we have visitors, but I’m handling it. Also, please repeat the message to everyone else on the short wave. Use the emergency signal. Then stay there and wait for further instructions.”

  Dublin prepared to protest, clearly wanting to remain with Mac to see who was arriving. Mac interrupted her before she could begin to make the argument.

  “This isn’t open to discussion Dublin – I’m telling you to go. NOW.”

  Dublin placed her gun back into its holster and took off running.

  “Ok Reese, that leaves you with me. Stay close, but keep your mouth shut. By the sound of it, we have more than one vehicle making its way here, so that means it’s not just Carol we are dealing with.”
>
  “Has that ever happened before? More than just Officer Carol coming up here?”

  Mac paused a moment before responding.

  “…No…not for a long time. Years and years.”

  “How bad could this be Mac?”

  Mac allowed himself a thin smile, causing the crows feet around his eyes to spread across the upper portions of his cheeks.

  “Ah, let’s just see what is what.”

  Although Mac’s tone remained outwardly calm, I sensed his growing apprehension. He was nervous.