Divided We Fall

by Trent Reedy

  “You’re going to want to hide the beer,” I said to Sweeney. “Hank, get me a voice call with Nathan Crow.”

  “You got it, ace! How’d you like to listen to —”

  “Shut up, Hank,” I said.

  “Hank’s still better than Eric’s porn assistant,” said JoBell.

  “Hey, you’ll hurt Trixie’s feelings,” Sweeney said. “She’s very sensitive.”

  “Danny Wright!” said Sheriff Crow when he picked up. “Good to hear from you. Did you see the news? How are you holding up through all this?”

  “Not good,” I said. “Somebody threw a rock with a death threat through my front window. I’d like to press charges if you can catch the guy, but more importantly …” I looked at Sweeney. “I’m going to be staying at a friend’s place. I need someone to keep an eye on my house. Can you spare anyone?”

  “For you, Danny, I’ll keep eyes on the house around the clock. I’m sorry I didn’t have my man watching this evening. The problem is, as you can imagine, with everything going on, we’ve been very busy. Traffic’s all backed up with a bunch of cowards trying to get out of Idaho as fast as they can. I can’t spare any officers, but I do know some men I trust like brothers. I’ll send one of them to keep watch. Don’t worry. Go do what you have to do. Your house will be safe.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff.” I tapped out and looked at the others. “I’m going to join the Idaho Guard full-time.”

  “Yes!” Cal said.

  “Danny, you can’t,” JoBell said. “What about school?”

  “I’ll have to see about classes online. Maybe just get the GED.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “That will never be good enough for the University of Washington. You have to get your grades up and —”

  “JoBell, you and I both know I’m not going to some big, fancy university. That’s part of what you were thinking last night, wasn’t it?”

  “This has nothing to do with last night.”

  “Last night?” Sweeney asked, but Becca elbowed him.

  “Okay,” I said. “Never mind about that. This is something I have to do. I swore an oath to protect my home.” I swept my arm in a gesture to all of them. “To protect the people I care about. Now this asshole president has locked down the border.”

  “Montaine was doing the same thing!” JoBell said.

  “He was keeping outside military out. The president is keeping out civilians. There’s a difference. My home is in trouble, and I’ve got to help.”

  “By going to war against your own country?” JoBell asked.

  “Nobody’s fighting,” said Cal.

  “I’m going to help keep the state from being overrun by the Fed until they can work out some kind of agreement,” I said. “If nobody goes to back up Idaho, the Fed will send in the Army and arrest me and the other guys in my squad in a heartbeat, and then they’ll go after Montaine.” JoBell was about to interrupt, but I cut her off. “Whatever you think of the governor, he hasn’t let me or my Guard guys down. He’s stuck by us and done his best to protect us. I owe him at least that much.” I brushed a few shards of glass off the couch and took a seat, then opened the box of bullets and started snapping rounds into the magazine.

  “What are you doing?” JoBell pointed at the gun. “It’s against the law for you to have that thing.”

  “It’s against the law to chuck rocks through someone’s window and threaten to kill him.” I held up the weapon. “I’m just leveling things out.”

  —• president assures us this is not a prelude to open military conflict, despite the fact that a blockade of this nature hasn’t been in place in this country since the Civil War in 1861. In response to human rights concerns about the distribution of food, medicine, and needed supplies, the White House said merely that any difficulties resulting from shortages within Idaho are the result of Governor Montaine and the Idaho state legislature’s irresponsible policies. Exactly how much of its own food does Idaho produce? For more on that, we’ll talk to an agricultural expert from •—

  —• CBS News has unconfirmed reports that shots were fired when an unknown person attempted to drive around a checkpoint on eastbound Highway 270 in Washington, on a stretch of road between Pullman, Washington, and Moscow, Idaho. The vehicle was trying to enter Idaho when it was reportedly fired upon and disabled. Again, this is an unconfirmed report, and we’re trying to get more information on that situation. If this has happened, we have no information as to whether anyone was injured or even who fired the shots. •—

  —• live in the news chopper with aerial footage of an unprecedented deployment of federal troops and combat vehicles along Idaho’s borders with Washington, Oregon, Nevada, and Utah, with Montana and Wyoming state police and National Guard troops along their own borders with Idaho. Easily several thousand troops, if not tens of thousands. In this live picture, you can see people leaving Idaho after a brief inspection by federal troops, but nobody is being allowed to enter the state. This has traffic backed up for miles. Oh my word — Can we get … Do we have … Can we get a shot of that, Rick? Ladies and gentlemen, we’re being intercepted by a military aircraft. A well-armed helicopter gunship of some kind. We’re getting a signal. I’ll try to patch it through.”

  “CIVILIAN AIRCRAFT, YOU HAVE ENTERED A RESTRICTED AIRSPACE. YOU WILL LAND IMMEDIATELY OR WE ARE AUTHORIZED TO OPEN FIRE.”

  “Rick, land. No, no, don’t turn back. Just land somewhere. Anywhere! Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t imagine that the US Army would fire on an unarmed news chopper, but then again, yesterday I would never have imagined a blockade like this. My pilot will try to find a —”

  …

  …

  …

  “Ladies and gentlemen, that was Roy Greptis in our KREM 2 News Chopper. We don’t … Excuse me. We don’t know what has happened, but certainly the video you’ve just seen is disturbing. Again, we cannot stress enough, do not attempt to approach the Idaho border. We do not believe it is safe.”

  “Okay, we’ve received a call from Roy. They are okay. They were forced to land their helicopter, but before they could even begin to descend, Roy says, their audio and video transmissions were jammed. We don’t know who jammed that signal, but that’s a powerful transmitter on our news chopper. We can only speculate at this time that perhaps the signal was somehow interrupted by military forces in the area. We have more reports that •—

  The next morning I slept in. Why show up on time when I wouldn’t even be going to class anymore? With the big blockade story to cover, there were a lot less reporters around town, making it much easier to get where I needed to go. When I finally rolled into school between fourth and fifth hour, I marched down the hallway in my MCUs, my tan combat boots clomping on the floor. Lots of conversations dropped to a whisper when I passed.

  I’d come to school to officially drop out. All that meant was I wouldn’t be able to walk at graduation with the cap and gown. So what? The one person who would appreciate seeing me do that would be my mother, and right now the federal government wouldn’t even let her come home.

  I probably should have gone to the office first, but I didn’t want to deal with Mr. Morgan. Instead, I went to Mr. Shiratori’s room. He was a great coach and the best teacher in the school, about the only one I could really stand. I couldn’t take off without saying anything to him.

  No students were in the room, so it must have been his prep period. When I walked in, he sat slouched in his chair facing the screen. Some teachers had their screens on a lot before or after school, watching their favorite shows or listening to music while they graded assignments. Mr. Shiratori usually only used his screen to show us historical videos or for maps, charts, or graphs. But today he’d split the image into six different news feeds at once.

  “In a televised address, Governor Montaine assured the nation and Idaho residents that he has been in touch with Idaho agricultural authorities and was confident that, although some items consumers are accustomed to would be scarce
or unavailable, the nutrition needs of Idaho residents would be met despite, quote, ‘the president’s attempt to starve us out.’ The governor also announced plans to tap the deposits of silver found last year in the mountainous Payette National Forest region in order to compensate Idaho National Guard personnel with newly minted silver coins. The governor said, quote, ‘Idaho’s rich wealth in silver and other precious minerals is more than enough to pay the Idaho National Guard.’”

  I stood by the door for a moment, waiting for him to say something, to even look at me. He didn’t. “Mr. Shiratori?”

  He switched the sound to a different feed. “The president is on very shaky legal ground here. He’s relying on the precedent established by President Lincoln in 1861, when Lincoln ordered a blockade of the Confederate states by proclamation and without the express authorization of Congress. Despite facing heavy criticism suggesting that he has been too patient and lenient with the Idaho Crisis, after his strong action yesterday, the president’s poll numbers have actually dropped.”

  Mr. Shiratori muted the sound. “Do you know why I teach American history and government, Mr. Wright?”

  Did he really want an answer to that? It sounded like one of those questions he was about to answer himself, but he waited so long in silence that I thought I should say something. “Um, because they pay you?”

  “Hmm.” He snorted and spun in his chair to face me. “I could make a lot more money doing something else. No, I have taught history and government here in this school for over fifteen years because I believe in America. Oh, don’t get me wrong. This country has made her fair share of mistakes. My great-grandparents were forced into internment camps during World War II. But even with his family imprisoned, my grandfather enlisted to fight in that war because he, like my father, like me, believed in America, in the philosophy behind its Constitution, in the purity of what America was supposed to be, what it could have been.” He waved his hand around in the air in front of him. “You know, equality and a decent chance to work hard to make something of your life.”

  “It can still be that way,” I said.

  “It looks like President Andrew Jackson was right way back in the 1830s. ‘Nullification means insurrection and war.’ We’re about to find out.”

  “It won’t come to that,” I said.

  “Really? You say that, and yet there you are in uniform, running off to serve in one army or the other.”

  I dropped my duffel bag to the floor, unzipped it, pulled out my Minutemen game jersey, and held it out to him. He made no move to take it from me.

  “I’m going to support the governor,” I said. “The Feds have trapped my mom plus Eric’s and Becca’s parents outside the state. Someone’s got to stand up to them. We can’t just let them trample our freedoms.”

  “That’s a slogan, Mr. Wright. We are heading into a war. No matter what slogans help you march into it, if you’re lucky to survive long enough to hobble back out, it might be hard to remember what the slogan even meant, much less if it justified all that we’ve lost in its name.”

  I stood there for a minute. Finally I put the jersey down on his desk. “Well, you’ve been a great teacher and coach, Mr. Shiratori.”

  He stood up quickly and shook my hand with a firm grip. “Thank you, Mr. Wright. I’d try to talk you out of this if I thought it would do any good. So instead I’ll wish you luck, and I’ll be praying for you.”

  I nodded and then headed for the door.

  “Oh, and Danny,” he said, just before I walked out of his room. “I have the feeling this is going to get really bad. Be careful who you trust.”

  * * *

  I went to the office to sign out of high school. For once, Mr. Morgan didn’t lecture me too much. He didn’t even ask which side I was joining. He said that since the district hadn’t ever had a student unable to finish high school due to military service, he would have to review my situation with the school board to determine the next step. He said he’d do his best to help make sure I at least got my diploma. The guy was still a total jackwad, but I was impressed that he could be decent for once.

  I went out to the Beast, started up the engine, and drove out of the parking lot for the last time. I’d called my Guard unit last night, and a female specialist whose name I didn’t recognize told me I could either report directly to the border checkpoint all the way on the other side of the mountain or wait at the armory for a truck to shuttle me out there at eighteen hundred hours. No way was I going to wait around all day. It was close to lunchtime, so I decided I’d stop by the Coffee Corner to eat before heading out. It would be cool having my own vehicle out on duty. Maybe some nights if there wasn’t much for me to do, they’d let me drive back into town to see JoBell.

  The Coffee Corner was a crappy diner down on Main Street, the kind of place where old-timers and farmers stopped by after morning chores to have coffee, talk work and weather, and tell jokes. JoBell worked there sometimes. Alice seemed to work there all the time. She looked up from the comm she’d been reading. Everybody always checked out whoever came in, and today a couple reporters followed me in. That meant a lot of eyes on me. The conversation quieted.

  “No media,” Alice called out. “Owner’s policy. You’ll have to wait outside for your story. Get out, or I’ll call the sheriff.”

  When the reporters left, some people clapped.

  “There he is!” said a farmer in overalls who sat with his friends at a table.

  “The hero of the hour,” said a big man with a beard. He saluted.

  I quickly sat down at the last stool at the counter. I didn’t know what they were making such a big deal about or why they were so happy, but I’d had more than enough attention.

  “Sorry about that,” I said to Alice after she’d put a glass of water in front of me.

  “Oh, no bother. We’re used to it,” Alice said. “No school today, sweetie?”

  “There’s school, but I have to report to my National Guard unit.”

  “Hey, Alice, whatever the soldier wants, it’s on me,” said another of the old-timers.

  “That’s not really necessary,” I said to Alice.

  “Well, they’re excited, and I can’t blame ’em.” She motioned to the room, her thick plastic bracelets clicking. “Look at this place. Everybody is in here ordering food like we ain’t gonna have none tomorrow. And now with this blockade on, my brother finally found work. You know they’ve cut down so many trees on the border that the sawmills can hardly keep up. They’re running extra shifts, and my brother was hired on.”

  “I told you, Alice,” said the man in overalls. “Montaine is a different kind of governor. When he said he was going to bring jobs back to Idaho, he knew what he was talking about.”

  “And these guys are laughing all the way to the bank,” Alice said to me. “Food prices are up already. They’re saying potatoes are worth their weight in gold.” I raised an eyebrow. She patted my arm. She was real touchy-feely like that. It was weird. “Not really, of course, but they’re making some good money.”

  “They say the state legislature rushed through some special zoning and funds to get another factory going in Boise, building even more electrical equipment,” said a red-haired guy sitting next to me. “So the construction business will be booming. They’re talking about starting something like that up in Coeur d’Alene too. I guess they can get a lot done without all the federal red tape holding them up.”

  Was anyone going to just let me get lunch? “Cheeseburger basket, please,” I said to Alice.

  A guy with shaggy black hair and three days of stubble slapped me on the back. His breath reeked of coffee and cigarettes. “I have to shake your hand,” he said. I reached out and shook his rough hand. “I know this has been tough, the way they blamed you for all them deaths in Boise, and then chasing you around the state, but I got to tell you, we’s all proud of you.”

  One man’s chair scraped the floor loudly as he pushed it back and stood up. “I can’t liste
n to any more of this garbage.” He stormed out of the diner.

  “Forget him,” said Mr. Coffee and Cigarettes. “Most of us is right behind you. You got this whole thing started so we can finally stand up to them bastard crooks in Washington.”

  “Um, thanks, I guess,” I said, finally freeing my hand.

  A man who went to my church — I’d forgotten his name — leaned forward at the counter. “He’s right. You’re a real hero, Danny. Oops. I mean, Private First Class Wright.”

  Why couldn’t these people leave me alone? I was no damned hero. I’d failed to maintain control of my weapon and it had started a nightmare. I pretended to check my comm for the time. “Hey, Alice, can I get that burger to go?”

  A short time later I was back in the Beast, eating my lunch on the road. I was surprised when the news on the radio actually stopped and the theme music for the Buzz Ellison Show came on.

  Greetings, greetings, fellow patriots! Welcome to the Buzz Ellison Show, the beacon of freedom, shining the light of truth as we broadcast live coast to coast — despite the president’s blockade — from Conservative Central Command in downtown Boise, Idaho. It’s a new day in America! A landmark day in the struggle against big government. The number to call if you want to be on the program today is 1-800-555-FREE, that’s 1-800-555-3733.

  Well, he’s finally done it. El Presidente Rodriguez has closed the border for anyone wishing to enter the state of Idaho. And it’s ironic, isn’t it, that part of the reason behind this standoff is the federal government’s ridiculous unconstitutional spy card act? One of the benefits that the president has claimed this card offers is that it will supposedly reduce illegal immigration. If he had sealed the US border the way he’s sealed the Idaho border, we wouldn’t have had any illegal immigrants to worry about in the first place!

  But, oh, where to begin today, folks? Students at colleges and universities across the country walking out of classes, protesting for peace, calling for an end to the blockade, calling for talks. Food riots already in Brooklyn and Harlem. New York National Guard running patrols to maintain order. And there’s not even a shortage out there yet! People are simply scared of the food supply being interrupted. Food riots in Detroit. A couple people have been hospitalized after fights broke out there. Though in Detroit … Buzz laughed. I don’t know how they’d tell that apart from an average day. There are even unconfirmed reports that someone in northern Oregon took shots at federal soldiers stationed on the border there with Idaho.