by Robert Boren
“They were better looking specimens, frankly. They looked like soldiers, and carried themselves like soldiers. Also the usual immigrant women and children seemed to be gone all of a sudden.”
“Tell them about the others,” Linda said.
“Others?” Jane asked.
“Yeah, I saw a number of men around who didn’t quite look Mexican. They had dark hair and dark skin, but they were different somehow. Then I heard a couple of them speaking in a different language. Sounded like Arabic to me.”
“Crap, I knew it,” Frank said. “Our government wouldn’t do anything about the borders, and now this.”
Jane put her hand on his arm and looked him in the eye, trying to get him to calm down.
“Go on,” she said.
“There’s really not much else to tell. The looting had been going on at night, just like up your way, but we were ready to ride that out at first. We have a condo in a high rise down by the water, and it’s well guarded and secured on the ground floor, so we weren’t having problems. What pushed us to leave were the others I was just talking about. It started to seem very dangerous there. It was more than just a few disgruntled people looting. More than just rioting. I had a feeling martial law was coming, and wanted to get into our RV and get the hell out. So here we are.”
“We don’t really have much tying us to San Diego,” Linda said. “No family. The condo is on the 15th floor, so nobody is breaking in unless the whole building goes.”
“So what are you going to do, go back when this all blows over?” asked Frank.
“Maybe,” Hank said. “Or maybe we’ll just rent it out and live in the RV full time. That pusher is big enough.”
“We really weren’t using that place to its full potential anyway,” Linda said. “Living right near the water seemed neat when we bought the place, but we never really did much down there. Too crowded, too expensive, too many drunks walking around. Bad traffic, bad parking. To heck with it. Maybe it would have been more fun when we were both twenty five, but who can afford such a place at that age?” She laughed heartily again. Frank and Jane joined her.
“Well, I did enjoy my telescope,” Hank said, and then he laughed. Linda gave him an exasperated glance.
“Great, now these folks will think you’re a pervert,” she said.
“Oh, looking at some of the young lovelies on the beach, eh,” said Frank. He started laughing with Hank.
“Men,” Jane said, shaking her head and smirking.
“I know, huh?” Linda said with a sheepish grin.
“I think it’s post time,” Frank said, standing up. “Want a beer?”
“No thanks, but I’ll go grab myself a glass of wine and be back in a minute,” Hank said. “You want a glass, dear?”
“Sure, if our neighbors don’t mind us hanging around for a little while.”
“We enjoy the company,” Jane said with a smile. “Honey, grab me a beer too, will you?”
“Of course,” Frank said as he walked into the coach. Lucy followed him, her tail wagging.
“Oh, and why don’t you feed the critters? It’s about time.”
“Alright,” Frank said from inside.
He went to the fridge, opened it, and quickly pulled out the pet food cans and the beer. He tried to close it as fast as he could. Conserve those batteries, he thought to himself. Mr. Wonderful came running over when he pulled the plastic lid off of the cat food.
“Well there you are, sir,” Frank said, laughing. Lucy was there too, looking up at him and wagging her tail. Frank filled their food dishes and set them down on opposite sides of the salon. Then he opened the two beers and walked outside.
“Our children are fed,” Frank said, grinning. Linda gave him a quizzical look.
“He means our cat and our dog,” Jane said, laughing. “Did Mr. Wonderful show up?”
“Yep, a split second after I took the lid off of the cat food can,” Frank said, cracking up.
Hank came walking back over, a glass of wine in each hand.
“Here you go, baby,” he said, handing a glass to Linda. He sat down.
“So, Montana, eh,” Frank said. “You really think you need to go up that far?”
“That remains to be seen,” Hank said. “There are some bad problems on the border, and I can see the government needing to declare martial law there. I don’t trust those guys, though. I’m afraid they are going to go farther than they need to.”
“Don’t get wound up, Hank,” Linda said.
“I’ve had the same kind of thoughts,” Frank said. “I don’t trust this Administration. In fact, I didn’t trust the last Administration either, and it was the other party.”
“So if we find ourselves under martial law in the entire country, what will you do, Frank?” asked Hank.
Frank sat silently for a few seconds, looking down at his lap. Then he looked up.
“Fight.”
“Oh, come on, Frank,” said Jane. “This is ludicrous.”
“No, I won’t shut up. If this government puts the entire nation under martial law because of this border problem, we will have to take up arms. If we don’t, our liberty will be lost. I won’t let that happen to my kids without a fight.”
“Don’t you think you are being a little paranoid?” Jane asked.
“Maybe. We’ll wait and see. I just keep thinking back to Sean.”
“Sean?” asked Hank.
“Sean and his wife Sarah were camped next to us at the place in Quartzsite,” Frank said. “He was working as a civilian at the Marine Corps Air Station just outside of Yuma.”
“You sure you want to go there, Frank?” asked Jane. “We don’t know what happened.”
“Yes,” Frank said. “But I’ll only say what we saw. They can draw their own conclusions.”
Jane nodded.
“Anyway, Sean pulled me aside and started telling me things he had heard about the border problems. He said that the group that just took over most of Iraq has been sending people into Mexico through Venezuela, and that they are stirring up the problems.”
“Not surprising,” Hank said. “I’ve figured something like that was going on when I saw those other folks in San Diego.”
“It was worse than that. He went on to say that our government was in bed with these folks, and they were planning to use it to put the entire country under martial law. Sean said this was because putting people under tighter control was the only way to put climate change policies in place.”
“Heard those rumors before myself,” said Hank. “Never put much stock in them.”
“Me neither. So anyway, we spend the night in Quartzsite. The next morning, things are starting to get a little scary there, so we get ready to take off. We were both planning to go to the same place…..Flagstaff. We were going to meet up there.”
“We were planning to go through there too, originally,” Linda said. Hank nodded in agreement.
“We get on the road, fighting our way up a very crowded Route 60. Sean took off with his 5th wheel right before we left, and was far enough ahead that we couldn’t see him anymore. When we get to Route 71 the traffic thinned way down, and we were catching up to Sean. We could see him up ahead. Then we see two DPS cruisers and a Humvee go flying by us on the left.”
“Oh oh,” Hank said. Both he and Linda were mesmerized.
“They pull over Sean’s rig. We kept driving. Last thing I saw in my mirror were two soldiers pointing their rifles into Sean’s truck.”
“Holy crap,” Hank said. “This is bad.”
Jane shook her head.
“Frank, you and I both discussed other reasons why this might not be as ominous as you just made it sound,” she said.
“I know,” he replied. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it since. None of those other ideas make sense to me anymore.”
“What were the other ideas, Jane,” asked Linda.
“We have some reason to believe that Sean wasn’t completely truthful with us. Of cou
rse our first thought was that the authorities were afraid he was going to spread these stories he told us. But then we thought there were other possibilities. Maybe he was still in the service, and went AWOL. He still had the military haircut, and acted like military. Or maybe he took some things before he left the base. Or maybe he hurt somebody or did something else wrong at the base.”
“I’m with Frank on this one, I think,” Hank said. “There is a real crap storm going on right now. The Marines aren’t going to be sending a Humvee with a police escort up this way for any of those things you mentioned. At least not quickly. But if things are really as he described, I could see them going after him to keep him from spilling the beans to the public.”
Frank nodded. Jane was quiet, and she looked worried. Linda looked downright scared.
“Does Sean know your last names?” asked Linda. She glanced around the camp, looking as if she expected the boogie man to rush out at her.
“No,” Jane said. “They never asked. We also paid cash at that campground, and we never signed a register, so with a little luck they won’t be able to find us.”
“I suspect you two are boondocking because of this, though,” Hank said.
“Yes,” Frank said. “We’ve also kept our cellphones off, except for at Starbucks.”
“Good call on the phones and the boondocking, but you ought to add some solar panels. I’ve read about these Georgetowns. Not enough battery to boondock for long with that residential fridge.”
“I know,” Frank said. “We were going to get solar installed in Quartzsite…….didn’t seem like a good idea to stick around there, though.”
“If you are going up north, you should be able to get solar installed in Kanab. Hopefully things will be alright there.”
The four of them were silent for a few moments. Then they heard a gunshot coming from the motor home parked to the right. They all jerked their heads around. Then they heard another shot, and then silence.
Chapter 7 - Goodnight Chief
“Hit the dirt,” Frank cried, and they all got off their chairs and onto the ground. They waited. All they could hear was Lucy’s frenzied barking.
“Sounded like it came from inside that other rig,” Hank said. “Have you met them yet?”
“No,” Frank said. “We had the clearing to ourselves when we left to go to Starbucks.”
“They were already here when we pulled in,” Linda said. “Can we get up now?”
“Probably,” Frank said. “I think the shooting is over.”
The two couples got to their feet. Several men were running over from the clearing next to theirs.
“What happened?” shouted the first man, who was wearing a hand gun in what looked like a police belt and holster. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, and looked to be about forty years old, with salt and pepper hair and a big mustache.
“We don’t know,” Frank said. “I think the shots came from inside that motor home over there.” Frank pointed it out.
“Oh, no, that’s the chief’s rig,” said the man. He ran over to the rig, crouched, and slowly walked around the perimeter. The other men scurried over to join the first man.
“Chief, are you in there?” shouted the first man. “It’s Dave. Ken and Lewis are with me.”
Silence.
One of the three men came running over to Frank.
“Do you have a ladder, by any chance?” he asked.
“Yes….won’t get you on the roof, but you should be able to look in the windows,” Frank said. He turned and went to the rear compartment, then opened the door.
“Need a hand?” Hank said.
“No, I’m good. It’s near the top.” Frank pulled it out and brought it over to one of the men, who picked it up and carried it quickly over to the rig. He placed it next to the coach door and climbed up to look through the window.
“Oh, no,” he said.
“What?” the first man shouted.
“Blood all over the floor,” he replied, his voice trembling.
“Try the door, Ken” said the first man.
Ken got off the ladder and set it aside. Then he pulled on the door handle. It opened, and the coach steps extended under the door.
“It was unlocked,” he shouted.
The other two men came running around to the door, and they went in. Then they came back out and walked over to Frank and Jane’s rig. One of the men brought the ladder with him.
“Much obliged to you,” the first man said, and he leaned the ladder against the coach.
“What happened?” asked Jane. She had a worried look on her face.
“My police chief and his wife,” the first man said. “Looks like a double suicide to me.” He broke down crying.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry,” Jane said.
“Should we call the police?” Frank said.
“We are the police……..or we were the police,” the first man said. “I’m Dave.”
“I’m Ken,” the second man said. He was young, dressed in cargo shorts and a tank top. The black leather gun belt looked out of place with those clothes. He had dark sable brown hair that was looking a little shaggy.
“I’m Lewis,” said the third man. He was in his thirties, wearing jeans and a button down shirt. He was the tallest of the three, with light brown wavy hair.
“I’m Frank, and this is my wife Jane, and Hank and his wife Linda.”
“Glad to meet you,” Dave said. You guys traveling together?”
“No, we just met about half an hour ago,” Hank said. “We got here a little before that. The other rig was already here.”
“We were at Starbucks when it arrived,” Jane said. “We only got here a couple of hours ago ourselves, so that rig couldn’t have been here longer than an hour and a half.”
“Thanks,” Dave said.
“This doesn’t surprise me,” Lewis said. “The boss was pretty upset yesterday.”
“What happened?” asked Frank. Lewis, Ken, and Dave looked at each other.
“Oh, what the heck, we’ve already dropped out,” Dave said. “We all quit our job in protest.”
“Why?” asked Hank.
“Feds,” Dave said. He looked over at Lewis and Ken. Lewis’s face was turning red, tears still streaming down his cheeks.
“Those creeps have been telling all of the local police chiefs and sheriffs in Arizona to get ready to start gun confiscations, in prep for martial law. Chief Watkins told us about it last night. He told the Feds to stick it, and said he was going to bug out.”
“I knew it,” Hank said, shaking his head. Ken looked over at him and shook his head in agreement.
“The chief said he hadn’t found even one department that was going to comply,” Ken said. “He said it was going to get rough, and that we ought to get the hell out.”
“Why do you think he killed himself?” asked Linda.
“The chief was an older man,” Dave said. “He was going to retire at the end of the month. His wife had Alzheimer’s, and she was getting to the point that he couldn’t work and take care of her.”
“She’s the other person in the coach?” Linda asked.
“Yes,” Dave said, and he broke down again. “She was such a sweet lady.” Ken and Lewis came over and put their hands on his shoulders.
“Dave, let’s go get the shovels,” Lewis said. “I think we’d better bury them here.”
“Yeah, it’s a good place. The chief loved it here,” Ken said.
“Alright,” Dave said. “I’ll pull myself together. Sorry.”
“We’d be happy to lend a hand,” Frank said.
“Much obliged,” said Dave, “but we’ll bury our own.”
Frank nodded, and the three men walked slowly back over to their camp.
The two couples looked at each other silently. Frank saw the horrified look on Jane’s face. He pulled her to him and held on tight, feeling her start to sob. She pulled away so she could look at him in the face.
“I’m s
o sorry, Frank,” she said.
“For what?”
“You know,” she said.
“What, the fact that we don’t agree on politics? This is not that. Differences of opinion about how to run a free society are healthy. That is not what this is. This is tyranny. The vermin that has infested our government fooled everybody…..supporters and the opposition alike. This is no longer a left or right issue.”
Hank and Linda watched silently. Hank pulled Linda to himself and hugged her.
Jane sad down on her chair, and Frank sat down next to her. He moved his chair closer, and put his hand on her lap. She placed her hand over his. Hank and Linda sat down too.
“So what now?” asked Linda. “Is Montana far enough?”
“We have a bigger question,” Hank said. “Do we run, or do we stand and fight.”
Frank looked over at Hank and nodded solemnly. Jane and Linda looked at him silently.
“I don’t think we should decide what to do next until we’ve had more conversation with Dave and his guys,” Frank said. “That can’t happen until they’ve tended to the death of their friend.”
“Agreed,” Hank said. “They know things that we’ll never hear about any other way.”
Dave, Ken, and Lewis came walking back over with shovels. They nodded as they walked by.
“I wonder how many people are in their group,” said Jane. “Might be a good group to tag along with.”
“Maybe, if they’d let us,” Hank said.
“They might be targets, you know,” said Linda, “if they walked out of their law enforcement jobs in order to avoid orders from the Feds.”
“Good point,” Jane said. “Remember what happened to Sean. They might try to quiet anybody that knows anything.”
“They are also likely to be on the front lines of any battle that comes up,” Linda said.
“That’s a bad thing?” asked Hank.
Linda shook her head, looking at Hank and then Frank.
“Why don’t you two look in the mirror? Last I checked, neither of you are twenty five. We’re too old for this sort of thing.”
“They drafted men up to age forty five in World War II,” Frank said dryly.
“And you’re about fifteen years older than that, dear,” Jane said. “I understand how you feel. There are always things we can do other than fight.”