by Jim Heskett
Yorick’s jaw dropped, and he felt a vice tighten around his chest. Closing the gates, sealing everyone in? He looked around at the general population, noting their reactions. Most seemed to be taking the news well.
Jefe cleared his throat. “I have ordered some additional supplies to shore up our defenses, but help won’t be arriving for four or five days. Until that time, no one in or out. That’s not up for debate. But, if you have urgent business out of town, you can petition my secretary. I’m sure you all understand. I will see each person who petitions in turn.”
“Thank you, Jefe!” one townsperson called out, and a few others shouted their appreciation, as well.
With a big grin on his face, Jefe waved as he returned inside his building, and the door shut behind him. Just like that, everyone resumed their business, and the street once again turned into a living organism.
Four or five days was too long. Yorick felt his chest constriction worsen as the reality settled on him. Stuck in Pinedale unless he could think of a better plan.
After eighteen years of imprisonment and then only a week of freedom, he was again trapped inside walls.
An excerpt from “A brief history of the decline of the United States of America”
by James Eppstein, Ph.D.
After the crash of OneCoin, America went into a free-fall. Around this time is some of the most unreliable information, in terms of the accuracy of the history. Lots of questions remain about how and why things happened the way they did. I’ll try to address many of these below.
But, here is the most commonly accepted chain of events: everyone who could jump ship did so as soon as possible. Companies moved all their money overseas. They moved entire workforces. In a span of a few months or years, the top fifty companies in the US had shut their doors. The banks followed. There were no jobs to be had since no one could make payroll. Private citizens who were able to find a way out of the country did so, but soon enough, the airlines went out of business as well. Ports closed.
Without the flow of money, everything descended into disarray, like the flip of a switch. I’m not sure why the country was unable to move back to the dollar, or something sturdier like the gold standard. At the time, some said these one-way moves were intentional, like a bad actor trying to bankrupt a company from within.
I’m no economist, so I don’t exactly understand how the lack of currency caused so much financial ruin. I’m not sure the politicians in charge understood it, either. Most of what’s left of the official accounts of the events at the time have been written by pure propagandists, who claimed it was all part of King Nichol’s doing. His grand plan, decades in advance. Obviously, this is impossible, since he wasn’t even alive during this period.
Other accounts of the history have been spread by conspiracy theorists. As a historian, I have an obligation to question their accuracy as a whole, but I do think there are occasional nuggets of truth in even the most unreliable accounts.
Without a stable currency backing things, the government devolved into ruin, too. The president tried a series of solutions, each worse than the last. Selling the country off, piece by piece, seemed the only way to keep the country together. While the English and Chinese came in with strong offers to inject eCoin and stabilize things, the US publicly refused these offers. Without explanation. See below for more information.
At the time, I believe the thinking was that if we kept any countries with suspicious intentions far away, we stood a better chance of regaining our leverage and resources on the rebound. For a few decades, the US had experienced a severe degradation of foreign relations. Xenophobia and nationalism had led America to a perfect storm of financial trouble and the distrust of most former allies.
Enter Mexico and Canada.
Two prosperous nations on the rise. Two neighbors with whom the country still had decent relations. The US government started selling off bits and pieces, like one-sided trade deals on natural gas and foodstuffs, drilling rights in Alaska, water from the Rockies. But, those gains didn’t spread far enough. Too much money had been lost already, and drilling rights weren’t sufficient to make economic advances. Only stave off failure for a little longer.
That’s when they started selling off the actual pieces of land. Most historians—if they still existed—would probably mark this step as the beginning of the end. President Wallace spent most of her energy on a backdoor deal with China, which would have finally moved America to eCoin, and given the Chinese control over much of the country’s commerce and stabilized things. At least, that was the intention. Some writings at the time claimed Wallace was skeptical of Mexico and thought they were taking advantage of an already sweet deal. She wanted to bring in another party, possibly only as a leverage move.
Like so many government dealings, the American public was largely ignorant to the China connection at the time. Except, a government whistleblower outed the whole thing at the eleventh hour. Almost literally. Only days before President Wallace was to sign the massive trade deal with China, the news broke. There was pandemonium in the streets. China was viewed by most as a deceitful country. Would the Chinese intervention have saved the US? There’s no way for us to know now.
All that mattered at the time was that the American people wouldn’t stand for such a lack of transparency. They called for Wallace’s head.
After President Wallace’s impeachment and removal from office, her replacement thought renegotiating the Mexico and Canada deals was the only way to salvage what was left of the country. More land sold and more power transferred. The plan had been to keep a core together, a stable of states throughout the middle of the country.
On the ground, most knew little about the inner workings of the collapse and the new Canada/Mexico deals. Information became a difficult commodity to possess. With the ISPs and phone companies gone, internet and cell service ceased to exist. The news channels on TV disappeared with no fanfare, and newspaper printing presses no longer functioned. When Canada and Mexico increased the velocity of their creep across the country, most people didn’t even know it was happening.
First, Texas officially went to Mexico. All of New England became part of Canada. And then, like an oozing flow of lava, adjacent states began to fall. More and more land became a part of these countries, and soon enough, the desired stable of core states no longer existed. Canada controlled the north and eastern parts, while Mexico owned the south and west.
And, when those territories met in the middle, that’s when the war began.
Chapter Eleven
By the time Yorick and his three companions had reconvened on Main Street, Jefe had begun the process of closing the gates. They all four watched as the metal squeaked and cried, rolling together and slamming shut. Yorick couldn't help but think of the plantación, and every time the gates would close after the trucks came in or went out.
After that, they found a gazebo in a small grassy space and sought shelter from the heat for a few minutes. The town continued to shift around them, pedestrians on sidewalks and slow-moving cars kicking up dirt on the streets.
Rosia filled them all in on her aborted attempt to find transportation out of town. Not that it would matter much now since no one would be allowed to leave. Tenney and Malina had also had no luck. Everyone in town required trade in gold. It seemed to be the only thing of value to them.
“We did find something interesting,” Tenney said, as he withdrew a small cloth from his pocket, wrapped around something. He opened it up to display four small spheres, about two centimeters across. They were mostly white, with a few small splotches of color.
“What are those?” Rosia asked.
“The man said they’re called jawbreakers. I traded one package of wheat crackers for all four of them.”
“Five,” Malina said, jabbing a thumb at Tenney. “He already ate one.”
Yorick swished his lips around. “Those things are food?”
Tenney nodded. “Yes. Candy, specifically. You don
’t chew it. It’s too hard. Just put it in your mouth and let it dissolve.”
He passed out the four balls, and they all popped the little things in their mouths. The sweet taste flushed Yorick’s senses, making him salivate. He was unaccustomed to the intensity.
“Wow,” he said, the word muffled since his cheek was puffed out like a diseased person’s. He looked around at his companions and grinned when he saw they were all like that. For a moment, no one spoke. A light breeze whooshed through the gazebo.
Tenney took his out and put it back inside the cloth. “I can only handle a few seconds at a time. Too sweet.”
“I like it, though,” Malina said. Yorick noted she seemed to have calmed down since their altercation in the alley from a few hours ago. She didn’t usually speak so many words in such a short amount of time.
Rosia spat her jawbreaker in her handkerchief and stared at it. “What are we going to do? We seem stuck here.”
Yorick stared at the ground, his head swirling. And then, an idea struck. So simple, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He took the jawbreaker out of his mouth and shoved it into his pocket.
"Follow me," Yorick said, and then he led them behind the restaurant where they had stashed their gear. He dug underneath the dumpster to retrieve his bag and took out his rifle.
"What are you doing?" Rosia asked. “I don’t think shooting our way out of the gate helps.”
Yorick didn't answer yet. He opened his rifle and took out the chip, stashed it in his pocket, and replaced the rifle under the dumpster.
Tenney put his meaty hands on his hips. "What are you going to do with that?"
"Gold can't be the only thing of value in this town," Yorick said.
“But they’re looking for us," Malina said. "Don't you think that will give us away? I think those chips will link us directly to the plantación.”
Yorick eyed Rosia. "This guy with the car, do you think he's trustworthy?"
Rosia shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, I don't know. He could be. We only talked for a few minutes, but I didn’t get the impression he had an ulterior motive. Just getting paid.”
Yorick looked down at the chip in his hand. "I guess it's time to find out if this works.”
Even though he could read the doubt on their faces, they all followed him as Yorick cut over to the side street where Rosia had said Xevon lived. The big guy was sitting on his front porch, rocking on a swing attached to the roof overhead, a glass of yellow liquid in his hand. As they approached, Xevon lifted his glass into the air as a gesture of greeting.
"Hello there. I see you've brought some friends with you this time, Young Miss Rosia."
Yorick marched up the steps onto the porch, leaving the other three behind. “I’m Yorick.”
“Well, good day and how do you do, Yorick? They call me Xevon. Do you speak for the group?”
“I suppose I do.”
Xevon grinned. “So, you’re the big, swinging verga in your crew, are you?”
Yorick knew what a verga was, but he wasn’t familiar with the expression. He ignored the question. "Rosia told me you will only accept gold as payment for transportation out of town."
Xevon nodded. "I have no use for pistol rounds or jackets or whatever else you have to trade."
"What about this?" Yorick said as he pulled the chip out of his pocket and held it out. When he opened his fingers to reveal the small device within, Xevon's eyes jumped wide open. Total astonishment on his face.
He leaned forward as the porch swing came to a stop. "Is that a Ramirez Control Chip? Is that a real chip?"
Yorick had no idea who Ramirez was, but he had heard the chips referred to as “control" chips before. He nodded. "Will this get us passage to the border south of Cheyenne?"
"Absolutely," Xevon said, practically salivating. “And it works?”
Yorick tapped the side, and the chip lit up, but only for a moment. Xevon hooted. He leaned closer, practically falling off the edge of his porch swing.
But Yorick closed his hand as soon as he heard footsteps in the dirt behind him. He whipped around to see two men lurking in the street. Both of them with scaly rashes. They seem to fit the description of the two men Tenney had said he'd tussled with in an alley this morning.
“Can I help you?” Xevon asked.
“Mind your business, fat man,” the tall one said.
"We know who you are, you pinche pendejos1,” the shorter one said, jabbing a finger in the air like the bayonet of a rifle. "You're the ones the king’s after, aren't you?"
The tall one spat a glob of brown juice into the dirt. "I knew there was something wrong about this Frenchie girl and her big boyfriend. Should have known it on sight. You're still going to make us rich, though. Might as well come with us now.”
Xevon stood, as casual as could be, and walked over to the crate sitting on the edge of his porch. He lifted the lid and pulled out a weapon unlike anything Yorick had ever seen before. After a moment of staring at it, Yorick realized it was a shotgun. The two menacing open barrels swung over toward the pair of would-be informants in the street. "I'm in the middle of a business transaction here," Xevon said, "and you two are interrupting. In my book, that's impolite. Be along now, before this gets ugly. I’m only going to tell you the one time."
The two men balled their fists and gritted their teeth, but they stayed rooted in their spots. Yorick thought they might advance, or pull out their own weapons, but they seemed content to stare and seethe.
Eventually, the tall one said, "this ain't over. As soon as those gates open up again, we’re collecting our reward. Believe it.”
Then they skittered away in the dirt, disappearing into a side street.
After pausing a moment, Xevon returned his shotgun to the crate. He picked up his drink, and, with a grunt, settled back down onto his creaky porch swing. "Now, where were we?"
Yorick and his companions stood, dumbfounded. The street seemed to have gone completely silent.
"You know who we are?" Yorick asked.
Xevon chuckled, a hearty laugh making his big belly ripple. "Course I do. I recognized this young lady from the wanted poster the second she strolled down my street. Now, if you want to do business, we can do business."
Yorick felt a million kilograms of tension lift off his shoulders.
Xevon stroked his chin. "Problem is, as I see it, you still have to figure out how to get those gates open. And apparently, you better figure out how to do it before your two new friends do."
1 Pendejo: jerk
Chapter Twelve
Yorick sat in a waiting room with a dozen other petitioners. Each of them had some terribly important reason to ask the city boss—known as Jefe—to open the gates. A dozen people asking for exceptions to the rule.
The waiting room had wooden floors and walls, hard benches, and no creature comforts anywhere. Yorick didn’t even see a bathroom. There were a few portraits of Jefe on the walls, much like the propaganda posters Wybert had plastered around his plantación.
Yorick stared down at the number on the little slip of paper in his hand. 6. The last person to enter had been 5, and Yorick had been mentally preparing himself over the last few minutes. He'd concocted a story that was mostly lies. Yorick took no pleasure in lying, but there were bigger things at play here. Staying trapped within these town walls for days on end was not an option.
Across the room, a young woman sat on a bench, not much older than Yorick. A baby boy hunkered on the floor at her feet. He was a tiny thing in a diaper, playing with a plastic object like the coil of a snake. The baby twisted the coil in his tiny fingers, giggling at it. The mother slumped forward in her chair, her eyes barely open. She wasn’t paying any attention to the child, though. She seemed lost in a dream world.
But what stood out to Yorick were the piercings in her face. He’d heard of them but had never seen any in real life. Large metal hoops dangled from her ears, pulling the lobes down. They looked painful. Not only
that, she had one sticking out of her lip, and one in each of her eyebrows.
“What are you looking at?” the woman said, sneering at him after she finally noticed his clandestine looks.
Yorick pointed at the piercings. “Does that hurt?”
She sat back and studied him for a few seconds before answering. “More than you’ll ever know, outsider.”
With that, she closed her eyes. Yorick didn’t have a chance to process it, since a guttural roar came from behind Jefe's closed-door, and shouts of, “Get out, get out, get out! If I see you again, I will cut you from root to nose like a pig!”
The door opened, and a brawny guard shoved out a woman. She stumbled into the waiting room. Tears making rivers down her cheeks. Her green floral dress looked like it hadn't been washed in months. She ran her hands down the side of it to smooth out wrinkles, held her head high, and strutted out of the room.
"Six," said the guard as he stepped out of the way, leaving the door open.
Yorick stood and meandered toward that open door. Footfalls on the wooden floor felt heavier than they should have. He did not want Jefe to see the fear in his heart. To see how terrified he was that they might not be let out of the city and therefore miss the deadline to cross the border into Colorado.
As Yorick entered the office, Jefe pointed at a chair across from his desk. Seeing him up close, Yorick now noted the threads of gray running through his hair and mustache.
Yorick sat. "Good evening, Jefe.”
“What’s the best way to pluck a splinter from flesh?”
“Sir?”
“My wife and I are having a disagreement, and I am conducting a survey so I can tell her how wrong she is. So, tweezers or knife?”
Yorick didn’t know what tweezers were. “Glue, sir. Put strong glue on the skin and then let it harden. Then, when you pull the glue off, the splinter comes with it.”
