by Tate, Glen
Ron asked, “Have you seen a cop lately? One of these ‘trained professionals’ we are supposed to rely on?”
Someone said, “One came out to interview Lisa Taylor.”
“OK, has anyone seen any cops out preventing crimes instead of writing reports about killings that have already happened?” Ron asked. He was not using an angry voice; he was speaking very calmly.
Nancy knew who her enemy was.
“Ron, what about the shooting the other night in Becker Acres?” she asked in a condescending voice, which was the only tone she seemed to have, other than mock sweetness. “There were bullets flying toward us. Is that safe?”
“It’s safer than a pack of thugs with rifles and clubs trying to kill you,” Ron said. “I know a little something about that. Remember? I was fighting them off while you slept.” Ron was pissed that he was even having to make this obvious point.
After a couple of days of sleep deprivation and being attacked by a gang of armed thugs, his usual accountant calm and politeness was gone. Everyone was getting frayed. Emotions were raw.
“I just don’t feel safe with all these guns around,” Nancy repeated, making it obvious that her argument was simply that she didn’t feel safe around guns. That was it. No plan for security, just her feelings.
Ron blew up. “I don’t give a damn about your phobias! I care about preventing vicious criminals from attacking my family and even yours. What the hell is the matter with you?” A few people clapped. Nancy knew that she was losing a political fight.
Her emotions were raw, too. After several days of watching those government-hating knuckle dragging Tea Party people shut everything down, she’d had enough. She was going to do something about it.
“Ron, we don’t need your macho testosterone,” she said with her teeth clenched. “We need a civilized way to help the police do their job. I propose that we discontinue the armed camp approach and form a local chapter of the Freedom Corps.”
No one said anything.
Nancy realized that they hadn’t yet heard of the Freedom Corps, since they weren’t government insiders like her. She felt so powerful.
“Freedom Corps,” she explained, “will be announced soon to the general public.” She loved the hint that only important people like her knew about this. “It’s a civilian law enforcement auxiliary. We will work with law enforcement to help them while they have other things to look after. You will hear about it on the news soon. Judy, you’re in law enforcement, what do you think about this?”
Nancy called on Judy Kilmer, an administrative law judge living on Grant’s cul-de-sac. Nancy had rehearsed this with Judy beforehand. Judy was a supporter.
Judy decided little administrative cases like unemployment benefit appeals, environmental permit fines, and paperwork violations for people subject to state licensing. “Law enforcement” was an absurd stretch. But, Nancy knew most people in the neighborhood worked for and, to varying degrees, revered government, so a “judge” would have lots of credibility.
“Well,” Judy said, “I know that it’s very important to have an orderly system for protection. Just shooting people and running away isn’t that. You need to have systems in place to help law enforcement do its job. It’s more about collecting and preserving evidence than just killing.”
Ron couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He yelled, “Collecting and preserving evidence after what?” He threw his hands up in the air. “After a pack of shitbags has killed or raped my family? A lot of good evidence will do then. What’s wrong with you?” Ron stormed out of the room.
Nancy gave Ron a “tsk, tsk” facial expression and rolled her eyes. “See, this is that kind of testosterone outburst that, coupled with guns, leads to violence,” she scolded.
The crowd of neighborhood people, almost all of whom were government workers who respected Nancy and Judy’s high positions, appeared to be thinking about this. It was likely that they understood the logic and even the emotion of Ron’s side, but wanted Nancy’s approach to work. “Normal” meant no longer seeing armed men at the entrance to the neighborhood. Everyone wanted normal back. The group was silent for a minute or so. Nancy could sense that she was winning.
“Let’s meet back here tomorrow night at the same time,” Nancy said, which was also part of her rehearsed plan. “That will give everyone a chance to think this over.”
And it would give Nancy time to visit each neighbor and lobby them. She wanted to see Lisa Taylor, in particular. She hated the Matsons, especially Grant who got her fired from the State Auditor’s Office. If Grant was a big baby and had run from the police, Nancy at least wanted to get in Lisa’s face and tell her what a horrible person her husband was.
Chapter 62
Sheepdogs on Patrol
(May 6)
Pow’s plan was blown. He had assumed he’d help Grant’s family pack and then take them back to his place, meet up with the Team, and go out to Grant’s cabin that night. He didn’t want to leave for the cabin without Grant’s family. But, he didn’t want to stay in the city. He wasn’t sure the guys would want to, either. He was trying to figure out what to do. He was the leader, but it was pretty close to a democracy. He couldn’t suggest they do something unpopular. But he didn’t want to leave Lisa and kids in danger.
Driving back to his place, Pow could see that things were getting worse. No normal people were out on the streets. There were packs of questionable people walking the streets. There were still no cops. There were still no sirens. At first, Pow thought this was a good sign. Then he realized it wasn’t; the cops were giving up, retreating to strongholds somewhere else, or were running out of the gas that was required to run their cars.
People were starting to realize they were on their own. Most were shocked, but a few, the criminals and the criminal wannabes, were starting to realize the opportunities that existed until law enforcement restored order. If they ever did.
Pow got back to his house earlier than the two hours he’d told the guys. They weren’t there yet. He pulled into his neighborhood. At the entrance was Clay Porter, a retired Army guy who lived a few streets away. He was in his truck under the streetlight. Pow slowed down and rolled down his window.
“Hey, Clay, what’s up?” He asked.
“Oh, hey, Pow,” Clay said, “glad to see you. Shit’s hitting the fan, that’s what’s up. We need to talk.”
Pow knew that he was about to be asked to help the neighborhood. “Sure. Let’s talk,” he said.
“We need a neighborhood patrol,” Clay said. “We need you and those guys over at your house all the time. I’ve got a dozen or so vets and some young guys. We need a guard rotation. We also need to get food and gas, which means going out on runs. They will get more and more dangerous as this continues. You in?”
“Sure,” Pow said without even thinking, just like he did with Mrs. Nguyen. Pow was a sheepdog. He helped people. Once his neighborhood was squared away, he and the Team could bug out to Grant’s. It would give the guys something to do while he waited to hear from Grant’s wife. There was a risk that by waiting to go to the cabin things would get so bad in the city that they couldn’t make it out, but that risk was mainly for unarmed and untrained people. Not the Team. That seemed somewhat cocky to Pow, but he felt this was the right decision. He really wanted to give Grant’s wife some time to decide that she wanted to go to the cabin, after all. He wanted to kill some time, even when time was precious.
“My guys are coming in about an hour,” Pow said. “We’ll come over to your place after that.” Pow didn’t want to have Clay over to his place with all the valuable guns and cases of ammo visible. Clay was a good guy, but Pow didn’t feel comfortable advertising his goods.
Pow went back to his house and looked over all this stuff. He was so reassured to have it. They had some serious firepower.
One by one, the guys were rolling in. Pow knew they would want to get out to the cabin right away. This neighborhood patrol with Clay was delaying tha
t. He told each one the new plan as they arrived, instead of telling the whole group. He could convince one guy at a time easier than convincing the whole group. In the end, all of them were OK with spending a couple days patrolling Pow’s neighborhood. It would be fun; this is what the Team lived for.
They went over to Clay’s with concealed pistols and met the other men in the neighborhood. They were a pretty solid bunch of guys. Not nearly as well armed as the Team, but they had plenty of decent hunting weapons and good pistols. Two guys even said they had ARs. Many of the neighborhood guys had good military experience, but they hadn’t been to a shooting range almost every other weekend like the Team had. Regardless, they were a very good group, well armed and decently trained.
With Pow and Clay leading, and given the high percentage of veterans, it didn’t take long to get a guard system and shift schedule down. They would guard the entrance with at least one guy with an AR. The military guys all knew how to operate one so there was always someone ready to use one. One truck would patrol around. One or two trucks with well-armed men would go out and get food and gas for residents. The elderly and families with young kids would get first dibs on the supply runs. Armed supply runs were feeling “normal” for the Team. They’d been doing that a lot lately.
In a matter of two days, the world had totally changed. At least, for people like the Team; people who had the right mindset. The rest of the world was catching up to them, slowly realizing how different things had become.
But, not all were making the adjustment. Pow watched one guy in the neighborhood, a recently retired guy, washing his ’69 Mustang over and over again. Pow went over to talk to him and all the guy could talk about was all the things he’d done in that Mustang. He was almost in a trance. He wasn’t thinking about getting food or gas or the crime all around them. He just mumbled about that car and kept washing it. Pow walked away and the man didn’t even notice. Pow knew that he wasn’t going to make it through this. He didn’t want to. He wanted to be riding in that Mustang. He wanted “normal” back, and would die trying.
Chapter 63
POI
(May 6)
The ride to the “secure location” should have been pretty short, but it took three hours. Jeanie knew where they were going; it wasn’t a mystery. They would go the fifteen miles or so north on I-5 to the Washington National Guard Headquarters at the giant Army and Air Force base called Joint Base Lewis McChord, or JBLM as everyone called it.
Sure enough. That’s where they were going. Traffic was extremely heavy. I-5 was the main interstate up and down Washington State. The Seattle metropolitan area stretched from Olympia in the south up I-5 about a hundred miles to Marysville in the north. The whole metro area straddled I-5.
Many other people were going places, too, and I-5 was how to get there. The roads were tightly designed to accommodate normal loads. If just five percent more cars than normal were on the road, traffic would jam up, especially when cars were stalled out. Jeanie saw that many were; she presumed they were out of gas. When that happened, people would honk and get furious. Eventually, they would push the car over to the shoulder. People were standing around their disabled cars on the side of the road. Jeanie knew that bad things were probably going to happen to those people.
I-5 was a parking lot. There was no movement most of the time. Emergency vehicles were using the left lane. After a while, non-emergency vehicles starting driving in that lane, too, following the emergency vehicles just to get by the traffic jams. That was a misdemeanor; but no one was writing tickets.
The car Jeanie was in would drive in the left lane and on the shoulder when it wasn’t blocked. Her car had cop lights in the grill, and the trooper driving was using them.
Menlow just looked out the window. Since they were stopped most of the time, he could look into the windows of cars stopped next to his and see their faces. He saw families screaming at each other. He saw terrified faces. He saw kids crying. And, Menlow realized, the people in these cars were just the 1% who realized they needed to get out of the cities before it really got bad. What about the 99% still sitting in their homes awaiting instructions from the authorities?
As Menlow looked at all the people stuck in traffic trying to flee, he thought about all the problems that needed to be solved. Gas would need to be distributed. Food, too. The people on the side of road with disabled vehicles would need places to stay. People would need medical care. He smiled inside.
This meant government would need to do those things. Need. Need. People would depend on government for their very lives, and he was going to be running the government. Once he got elected, of course, but with the Governor not running for re-election and the state craving a Republican to fix things, he’d be in for sure. He would be the greatest governor in state history. He allowed himself to actually smile. He felt warm inside.
Finally, they took the exit for JBLM. Traffic was backed up around Ft. Lewis. There were soldiers with rifles checking IDs. They were turning people away. It took forever to get past the gate, but Jeanie’s car got right through. The guards radioed in when the trooper used a code word. They were on a list of expected guests.
They went to a nondescript building. It had very big radio antennas on it. There were soldiers and police everywhere. Jeanie wasn’t used to being around people with guns, especially rifles. Everyone looked so serious. And scared. And tired.
“You can work from here until your quarters are ready,” said a female soldier as she showed Jeanie, Menlow, and Tony a small conference room.
Work? Doing what? Auditing state agencies? It was pretty apparent they wouldn’t be doing their old jobs. They were here because Menlow was “five heartbeats” away from being the governor. No one really thought the first five wouldn’t be able to be the governor; it was probably just some dusty Cold War-era continuity of government plan that said the Auditor needed to be at the National Guard headquarters if something happened. And it had happened.
They just sat there. Jeanie looked at her watch. It was 3:22 p.m. They weren’t talking; they were just waiting to be told what to do. After a while, the female soldier said, “Come with me, please,” and motioned for them to follow her. They went down a few hallways into a bigger conference room which had many of the same people who were usually at the state agency leadership briefings. There was Jason from the Governor’s Office who had briefed them that morning.
“Hi,” Jason said as Jeanie, Tony, and Menlow walked in. As they were taking their seats, Jason continued with what he had been saying to the rest of the people in the room.
“Here’s what’s going on,” he said. “The Governor declared a military emergency a few hours ago. This means that our continuity of government plan goes into effect. That’s why you’re here, Mr. Auditor. You won’t be doing your normal job until this is over, which hopefully will be soon. We will ask you and your staff to work with the Governor’s Office to help with the relief efforts.”
Menlow nodded. He loved this.
“The National Guard has been activated, of course,” Jason said. “They are reporting in for duty as soon as they can get to their duty stations. Only a few people are able to come in, though. The police are on full alert. Oh, by the way, the capitol campus has been evacuated and protestors have pretty much trashed the place. Technically, the new seat of government is right here,” Jason said as he waved his hands around the conference room.
“We are working closely with federal authorities to start rounding up the people responsible for this,” Jason said. “There are some suspected terrorists we’ve, or rather the federal authorities, have been watching in our state. They’re getting them. There are also some radical political groups to watch. We are assisting them with the round ups.”
“What radical political groups?” Menlow asked.
“Some left-wing terrorist groups. Sympathizers with the Red Brigades,” Jason said. “Oh, and some Tea Party and Oath Keeper militia types. Lots of those. Actually, most of them
are teabaggers.”
Jason continued, “We have started something called ‘POIs.’ That stands for ‘Persons of Interest.’ They are people who are not suspected of a crime per se, but are people we want to talk to. Right-wing political types, mostly. In fact, Ms. Thompson, we’d like you to work on getting the POI list out to the media.”
“Sure,” Jeanie said. This was so exciting.
Jason handed her a scrap of paper. “Here is a password to our system. You’ll see the POI list there and can get started formulating a message.”
Jeanie nodded. Wow. This was amazing.
“I need to take the Auditor and his Chief of Staff to go meet with the others in the line of succession,” Jason said. He took them with him. There was Jeanie in the big conference room with a bunch of other civilians and some military people. OK, time to get to work.
Jeanie logged on and opened the POI file. It was very interesting to see who was on that list. She didn’t recognize any names, of course, until one jumped out at her on the screen.
“Matson, Grant.” Near his name was “Foster, Tom,” “Trenton, Benjamin,” and “Jenkins, Brian.” The next column said “Wash. Assn. of Business” and “‘Rebel Radio.” What the hell were WAB people doing on a “Persons of Interest” list?
She suddenly felt like she might be on the POI. She searched for her name. Nothing. She wasn’t on there. She started panicking. The government was going to try to arrest her friends. There must be some mistake.
She wondered about her boyfriend, Jim. He was really conservative and had mentioned to friends that he thought the people would start a revolution soon. She hadn’t thought about him much today. There had been too much excitement. He was off on Guard duty and was probably fine. He was surrounded by many well armed men. He would be busy doing his computer job for the Guard. She missed him. It would be so great to be home and with him if all of this wasn’t happening. But it was and she had a job to do. She tried to do it. But she couldn’t think. Her boyfriend was away from her, possibly in danger, and she was being asked to help the government round up her friends.
