“I’ll be right next door with grandfather. I know he wants to be awake for your program so I’ll get him ready for that. Ready to go then? To the communications room?”
I nodded.
“Sure.”
Together we exited the cavern and stood outside the door to the communications room. Dublin leaned in and kissed me lightly on the cheek.
“Good luck, Reese. Just do what you already do so well – speak from your heart.”
I placed my right arm around Dublin’s lower back and pulled her toward me, kissing her lips. As I began to pull away Dublin’s hands wrapped around my neck and she returned my kiss with her own. After some seconds, our lips parted and Dublin smiled up at me.
Neither of us spoke as Dublin turned to her right to enter the medical room and I opened the door to the communications room. Inside sat the Drake TR transceiver Mac had shown me earlier, its microphone welcoming me to take a seat in front of it and tell the story of Dominatus to others.
The room was devoid of all sound as I removed my notes and began from where I had left off, my pen frantically outlining the thoughts that were now pouring forth in a rush of past experience and hopeful future – a future I very much wanted to ensure included Dublin Meyer.
Nearly an hour after I had sat down inside the communications room Mac opened the door.
“Thought I’d check to see if you were still ready to go.”
I looked up from my notes and nodded.
“Ready as I can be, Mac. Should be starting to transmit in about five minutes. How are you feeling?”
“Head’s still ringing a bit but Doc gave me a handful of aspirin and that’s helped a lot.”
Mac pointed to a small blue button attached to the wall to the right side of the Drake TR. A single line ran up the wall and into the ceiling where it disappeared.
“Right before you start if you could hit that button there. It’s like an all-call that goes throughout the cave. That way we can all listen in during your program…be the first time any of us get to hear it in real time. The Old Man is awake and pretty alert right now. Most of us are in the main room ready to hear what you have to say. Is that still ok – you mind if we listen in?”
“That’s fine, Mac, tell everyone just a few more minutes. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Reese…you’re doing your father proud.”
I contemplated that remark for a moment.
“You think so, Mac?”
“Yeah…you are. If I had a son, I would have been honored to call you that, Reese. Now, let’s get to stopping all this touchy feely crap and I’ll leave you to it.”
Mac closed the door as I powered up the transceiver, adjusting the frequency and then initiating the code that would update those in the network of my intent to begin communications. This code was repeated three times in between a 90-second delay. I then altered the frequency again which, if my codes were in fact received, others would also adjust their own frequency in order to receive the message. It was a system put in place by my father from the very beginning of my programs and so far, had kept me safe from being cited for violations of the mandates which for years, banned anyone from communicating criticism of the government with others.
Taking a deep breath I then pushed the small blue button against the back wall, allowing the others in the cave to hear the program as I spoke it.
“Ladies and Gentleman, welcome back to the Resistance Network…”
XXIII.
“For some five years I have spoken with all of you about the challenges of attempting to live, let’s simply call it a reasonable life…under this yoke of oppression. This oppression comes primarily in the form of the New United Nations, that organization initiated almost twenty years ago that replaced both in sense and spirit what once was the United States of America. The United States of America – what President Ronald Reagan called the Shining City upon a Hill, the beacon of light and hope for all the pilgrims of the world trying to make their way home.
“I tell you now listeners, though that light has grown dim, it has not gone out! That spirit, that American spirit, established and then honored in the blood of ultimate sacrifice, remains within each of us who know that the world we live in now, is a world gone wrong. Who among you is satisfied with this tyranny? Who among you feels it right that government dictates every waking moment of your life? Who among you welcomes your own children into a world where opportunity is limited to what some New United Nations bureaucrat is willing to dispense to them? A world where the past, present, and future of what was once America must now bend to the will of people who for so long wished to do it – and you, harm?
“And so what then are we to do?
“Ask that question of yourselves…listen to the answer. It speaks to you…it whispers in the voice of generations past. Citizens of a nation who lived not under the boot of this New United Nations, but rather under the freedoms and opportunities of a United States of America! Their legacy, their sacrifice, answers that question for you. Listen to them. Listen to their answer.
“Thomas Paine once said, ‘If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace.’
“Ladies and gentlemen, that day is NOW. There must be trouble, so that our children may have peace.
“This oppression cannot be allowed. I ask you, rise up. I ask you to again walk the road of freedom and opportunity and liberty. A road paved in the sacrifice of those who fought and died to protect it.
“I have made a trip recently, one that brought me to a place known as Dominatus. It is an ironic name, given the people of this place are living in direct opposition to that term. A bit of an inside joke, if you will. Perhaps some of you have heard of it, this place in the wilderness of Alaska. Over the years people have chosen to come here in order to live their own lives. To be able to experience what America once was. They built their homes, their own businesses. They eat and drink what they want. Some choose to smoke. They laugh and cry, dance and sing. If they choose to arm themselves for protection they do so…all without thought to whether or not they are obeying the tyranny of the New United Nations’ mandates.
“This little community of people simply wanted freedom. Liberty. To be left alone. And for that…for simply wanting those things that are no more and no less than the foundation of which the United States of America was built upon – they are deemed dangerous to the government of the New United Nations. These people now face termination. Dominatus has been visited by the compliance officers. Then by the special operations officers. And finally, repeated visits by the drones and their bombs.
“How is it so many people now allow drone bombings to be carried out upon themselves by a government that promises its existence is based upon the premise of protecting them? The history of such bombings is well known, though of course the official history does not mention them. Waco, Texas. Grant County, Washington, and so many others. And now…Dominatus, Alaska.
“President John Kennedy said that every nation must know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and the success of liberty. His words are now directed at this New United Nations, listeners. The mandates have robbed every one of you of your liberty. So knowing that, please ask if you are now willing to pay any price, to bear any burden, to meet any hardship, to support any friend, and to oppose any foe to assure that liberty is returned to you – its rightful owner.
“I’m asking all of you, I am told there are millions of you, to now at this moment, stand as one to resist this false government of the New United Nations. This has never been a government of the people, by the people, or for the people, but rather a government of government, by government, for the government. Its only purpose is to feed its ever growing powers – powers that always come at the expense of your own personal liberties and freedoms.
“There was a time, listener, when people were not only granted the bl
essings of opportunity and personal responsibility in America – they were expected to fully embrace them to the best of their abilities! Those blessings were what attracted millions to journey to America’s shores, to often times risk life and limb for even a mere sliver of hope. Then…somewhere we rebuked those blessings…we turned our backs on opportunity and personal responsibility. Our schools dedicated themselves to teaching compliance at all times…to having no opinion that might make another among them feel uncomfortable. That government was always the source of good in the world, while the desire for success was the root of all evil. This was not education of children, but rather the programming of children. And so it went, one generation into the next until finally, the system of checks and balances, the ideals of the free market, the limited government spirit of the Constitution, were viewed with contempt. Such things were deemed unsafe. There could be no winners in order that everyone could feel comfortable in the knowledge all were losers – dependent upon government for our own happiness. It was never happiness though, now was it? No, it was misery. The misery that always comes when a people accept tyranny in the hope of obtaining some small measure of safety. And as the saying goes, misery loves company…does it not?
“I asked you when it became acceptable for a people to accept its own government dropping drones on them. Let us walk that scenario back a bit further. I would also ask when a people found it acceptable for a government to tell them what foods they can eat, or how much soda they are allowed to drink? When a government tells them how they are able to protect themselves from harm – often resulting in making them far more susceptible to potential harm? When did a people deem it acceptable to allow a government to take more than fifty percent of what they earned by their own labor, allowed government to regulate every aspect of their business until it was impossible to comply, resulting in that business having to close its doors? When did it become acceptable to allow government officials to demand citizens give more and more and more, while those same officials wined and dined and vacationed on tens of millions of dollars taken from the same taxpayers the government demanded yet more from?
“You see listeners, the use of drones by government to kill its own citizens did not happen in a vacuum. It is a result of too many years where people simply ignored the theft of freedom and liberty that was occurring all around them. Years of politicians demanding obedience to laws created without understanding of a nation’s past, but rather, to further the goals of Big Government’s intended future – a future that is now present in the here and now and demands every one of us to kneel before the mandates of the New United Nations.”
The sound of the M2 gun interrupted my program, followed soon after by several bombs landing just outside the cave. The explosions again dimmed the lights as the walls of the communications room groaned under the strain. The door to the room opened and Mac stepped inside.
“Sorry to interrupt you – we’re all listening. Got a few more drones doing some business outside but things are holding up well enough. Already shot one of them down. Keep on doing your thing…finish your talk.”
Mac closed the door as I again faced the microphone. I took a deep breath as quietly as I could before continuing.
“Can you hear that listeners? That’s the sound of YOUR government attempting to kill those who simply chose to live their lives in freedom. Who chose to honor the memory of the United States of America. Drones are bombing us now, sent here by the New United Nations. Sent here to kill women and children, and men who served and defended a country and way of life that our collective ignorance and laziness allowed to be overtaken and destroyed.
“These people are really no different than you. They are doctors, accountants, bikers, students, former soldiers, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters – all brought together by a simple desire to work hard and be left alone. That’s it listener - to work hard, and to be left alone. And for that, this government, YOUR government, would have them dead.”
Another series of explosions rocked the communications room. This time the lights went out completely for a brief moment, before flickering back to life. The M2 gun was firing repeatedly now with no delay between rounds.
“George Washington once said that government is without reason, without eloquence. That it is at its most basic premise, simple force. That it is like a fire – a dangerous servant and fearful master. That fire has overcome all of us. It has burned down what once was the United States of America, and left in its place the searing, destructive, and deadly heat of the New United Nations.
“When I was a child, no more than ten, I found myself in nearly constant conflict with a bully at school. He was taller than me, larger, stronger, and nearly every day his primary purpose seemed intent on making my life a hellish existence. I finally went to my teacher, Ms. Foster, and explained what he was doing. The pushing and shoving, the elbows to the ribs, stealing my property. I remember clearly what this teacher told me with a smile on her face but eyes that looked back at me with cold disdain. She explained that this other student, this bully, had come from a difficult home and that I should try to better understand that. She went on to point out, in the by then widely accepted politically correct language that almost all educators seemed to show complete devotion to, that he was an African American, while I was White, and so that was even more reason for me to be more understanding of him and that my attempt to get him in trouble was the cause of his distrust and dislike of me. Basically, I was being told I was the problem! I was the reason this other person was pushing me down, and taking my things. And apparently…all of the anti-bullying rhetoric of the school really only applied to a certain segment of the population – and certainly not to this other Black student.
“I went home that day and told my parents. My father decided he would handle it in his own way, which was nothing more then him telling me that I had to decide if I was going to allow myself to be a victim. His words that day have remained with me ever since.
“‘Son, you have to decide if you are going to stand up for yourself or let this other kid push you around. It’s that simple. Sometimes in this world, you have to fight fire with fire because that’s the only thing some people will understand. Don’t worry about your teacher, this Ms. Foster – she’s an idiot. Unfortunately, so many of our schools today are in no short supply of idiots. Now I’m not telling you to hate this other student. In fact, there’s probably plenty about him to feel sorry for – mostly that he lives in a society that doesn’t want to make him accountable for his own behavior and some day, if he doesn’t change, that’s going to catch up to him and it’ll probably hurt him in a very bad way. But as far as what you can do, when it involves yourself and your property, you have a choice to make him accountable. Sometimes, you just got to ball up your fist and smack him one as hard as you can. Fire with fire. Now after you do this, that teacher of yours, or the principal, whatever…they might try to punish you for it and that’s ok too. Send your message to that other kid, and take the punishment. As a man, sometimes you have to be willing to make that choice. And this is your choice…I’m just giving you my advice. My suggestion is that you decide from here what you want to do about this.’
“I took my dad’s advice. He spent an hour or so showing me how to throw a punch – an exercise my mom did not appear overly supportive of. The next day just outside the school entrance there stood my bully waiting to torment me. He pushed me to the ground as he had done so many times before, but this time when I stood back up my fist flew into the side of his face. I remember the odd feeling of my knuckles smashing into the soft fleshy texture of his cheeks and the odd smacking sound that connection made.
“The bully’s left hand began rubbing his face where I hit him, his eyes watering up in shock and pain. Then those eyes turned angry and I knew I was in for a real fight. He grabbed me by my jacket and threw me to the ground again, his greater weight pinning me down as he attempted to choke me. I knew then I had better be willing to give as
good as I got – to fight fire with fire as my dad had explained to me. So…I took both my hands and grabbed as much of his ample cheeks as I could and squeezed – HARD. I doubt you will find that particular technique in any professional fighter’s arsenal of tricks, but the results were favorable. The bully let go of my throat as he screamed in pain, rolling off of my chest and onto his back.
“By then some of the school office staff were outside looking down at the both of us. We were brought into the vice principal’s office and asked what had happened. To my surprise, before I was able to answer for myself, the bully spoke up to say we had simply tripped outside and fallen to the ground. I was asked to confirm that version of things…and I did. I’m not sure why I did, some kind of unspoken code by kids against authority figures perhaps. I’m sure the vice principal didn’t believe the story, but with both of us supporting the same lie, we were allowed to leave the office with no more requirement than to be more careful.
“Once outside I feared the bully would quickly attempt to extract some revenge for his likely still painful cheeks, but instead, he simply went his own way leaving me to stand there and contemplate what he was really up to. In the days and weeks that followed he continued to leave me alone, and eventually, would even nod his head in greeting as I walked past him. By the time the school year was set to end, we were actually speaking to one another on a regular basis, and that summer, he became a regular visitor to my home where he would always rave about my mother’s cooking and how crazy it was my father kept so many books in his study.
Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection... Page 90