Liberty or Tyranny

by John Grit

  Kramer nodded, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to live at that moment. He wasn’t just missing an arm; he was a lopsided freak. To hell with Capinos, and to hell with the country. The drugs made him drowsy. In seconds, he returned to a place where there was no pain, physical or emotional.

  Mel waited outside, keeping his attention down the hallway, his rifle in both hands, his thumb on the safety lever. He turned to glance behind him and noticed the soldier who just talked to Kramer was back on post. They communicated by hand signal. Mel nodded and resumed keeping a lookout for trouble.

  ~~~

  Nate watched the sun rise over his newly plowed and planted field. Fog lifted from the river down in the valley on the lower end of the farm, and a gentle breeze came to life with the rising sun, blowing thin clouds of mist uphill and across the field. He turned to Deni and Brian with a smile. “We’ve accomplished a lot in two weeks. Now we have to keep those seeds moist until the summer rains come.”

  Deni’s smile was as broad as Nate’s. “Atticus and Tyrone hauling that tractor and 100 gallons of diesel fuel out here from town made it possible.”

  “We had a good tractor, but the damn raiders –” Brian stopped himself. “No use going over that now. We have to get that pump hooked to the tractor’s power take off and lay out some irrigation pipes down to the river before those seeds dry out.” He walked toward the barn, his rifle slung across his back, out of the way while he worked, but within reach at all times.

  Deni laughed. “He’s getting more like his father every day.”

  Nate pulled her to him. “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time. These last weeks have been great therapy for all three of us.” They watched Brian work on the pump. “Maybe someday, in a year or two, we can stop carrying rifles with us wherever we go.”

  Deni’s expression changed. “We both know it’s not over yet. It could very likely get worse than it’s ever been, and it could happen any day now. It all depends on when those in Washington decide to make their move and clamp down on the country.” Hate turned her face hard. “Damn men who value power more than people. Most of the human population dead and the survivors suffering, but what are those assholes thinking of? Why, let’s take advantage of the situation and create our own little dictatorship. It’s probably happening all over the world. Little men with big egos and not an ounce of decency in them.”

  “I know the shit might hit the fan soon, but it’s not a fait accompli.” Nate swallowed. “And Brian knows that as well as we do. He wants to put this land to work one last time before – well, before whatever happens happens. It’s the first time he’s taken any real interest in farming. Just maybe we’ll be able to raise this crop, harvest it, and process some of it for storage before it all goes to hell again. What we can’t keep from spoiling, we’ll give away or maybe trade for things we need.”

  “And then what?” Deni asked. “We take it into the woods and hide it in strategic areas, so we can live on it while hiding from the government?”

  Nate nodded in Brian’s direction. “If you’re asking am I willing to give my son to the cause and let him die in a civil war, the answer is hell no. Nor do I want you to be a part of it. The chances of any of us surviving a civil war are so small –” He shook his head. “No. He has done more than his share in helping this country get back on its feet. We all have.”

  She raised her chin. “Brian is underage, but I’m not. I think I’ll decide whether or not I fight.”

  Nate softened the tone of his voice. “In the end, yes, it’s your decision, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with it or I won’t beg you to stay with us. Unless the entire military sides with the people, many civilians who go to war will not be coming back.” As he walked away, he asked, “How much do you think I can take?”

  She took two steps to catch up with him, but stopped when she saw that he was heading for the river to be alone.

  ~~~

  High pressure steam hissed as it escaped from the release valve on the lid of the pressure canner. Nate had spent most of the day canning vegetables and explaining to Deni how it was done, reminding her many times how dangerous steam can be and to always make sure the release valve never got plugged up. “Let’s get out of this hot kitchen while the water cools off a little.”

  Brian set a five-gallon bucket full of lima beans he had just harvested from the field on the front porch. He walked between piles of cucumbers, green onions, and tomatoes. Farther from the house, a pickup that was overloaded with freshly harvested corn stood ready for a trip into town. He flipped an empty five-gallon bucket over and sat on it. “You guys do know we’re almost out of Mason jars?”

  “Yep,” Deni answered, “we’ll be done with canning by sundown.”

  Nate stepped over to the water pump, worked the handle five times, and then stuck his head under the water flow. He stood and let it drip on his shoulders and his already sweat-soaked shirt. “Summer’s with us full-bore. It’s almost as hot out here as it is in the kitchen.”

  Brian looked down the driveway and pointed. “We better get what we can harvested and taken care of. Who knows how much time we have before trouble comes rolling toward us from that direction.”

  “Might not ever happen,” Nate countered. “But then again, it could happen while we sit here talking about it.”

  “Donovan said six months at the outset,” Deni said, her voice carrying with it a sharp edge of anger. “I doubt we have much longer.” She clenched her jaw for a second and then looked at the others. “Yeah, we better work fast and get this last batch of canned food cached in the woods. I expect we’ll be forced to go back into hiding anytime now.”

  “I guess this isn’t exactly heaven,” Brian said, “but the last few months have given us the most peace we’ve known in damn near two years. It’s depressing to know that assholes we never even met are about to take that away from us.” He stood, obviously ready to go back to work. “I’ll hook the trailer to the truck and start loading it. We’ll be ready to head for town in the morning.”

  Nate yelled after him, “Five or six of those watermelons you planted are ripe enough to take with us.”

  Brian stopped walking for a second and turned to look back. “Good idea. The kids at the horse farm would enjoy those.”

  Deni started to say something, but she noticed that Nate seemed to be thinking. “What?”

  “We don’t have time to allow the beans to dry on the vine, so we’ll have to oven dry. That’ll also pasteurize them. It’s going to be a real challenge to keep that wood stove at the right temperature long enough.”

  “We’re out of Mason jars. What’re we going to put them in?” Deni wanted to know.

  “Mylar bags,” Nate answered. “If we had enough jars, we could just can all of it, but drying’s easier. If you’re going to eat it within a year, that is. You keep dried beans too long and you have to boil the hell out of them to soften them. The raiders didn’t find the bags, or maybe they didn’t think they had any use for them. Anyway, we have about 40 or 50 six-gallon bags we can seal the beans in.”

  “Well.” Deni rubbed her aching shoulders. “That’ll have to wait until we get back from town tomorrow. Right now we have some more canning to do.”

  Nate sighed. “Yeah. Let’s get it done before dark.”

  Chapter 20

  The Williams family overslept and got a late start, leaving two hours after sunrise, instead of first light, as they had planned. Nevertheless, they grabbed their packs and rifles and piled into the pickup. It was almost 10 o’clock by the time they pulled up to the front gate at the horse farm. They were greeted by the guards, who ushered them through the gate.

  “They look worried,” Deni commented.

  Nate nodded. “Yep. Something’s wrong.”

  Brian cleared his throat. “We never listened to the radio all day yesterday or last night. We’re kind of out of the loop. No telling what’s going on. Guess we were so busy being farmers we were too bus
y to be diligent citizen soldiers.”

  Nate pulled up to the main house. “You got that right. I just hope it doesn’t cost us this time.”

  No one needed to inform Mrs. MacKay they had arrived. She met them before they got halfway to the front porch.

  Nate saw the look on her face. “Has it begun already?”

  MacKay answered, “HAM operators report that a purge of generals has begun. Last report said over a dozen have been relieved of duty and arrested for treason. The usual Guard and Army reports were broadcasted yesterday, last night, and this morning. None of them mentioned the purge.”

  “What about the code?” Deni asked. “Has it been broadcasted?”

  MacKay shook her head. “No.”

  Deni referred to a code that would warn the people the civil war had begun. It was a passage written by Hemingway in a personal letter. Why oh bright beam of an August moon have you not written me?

  “If Capinos is purging generals, for all practical purposes the civil war has started.” Nate looked to his left and saw a gathering crowd of nervous faces. “You probably should think about initiating your evacuation plans.”

  Caroline pushed through the crowd, her rifle slung on her shoulder and Samantha in tow. “It’s the military Washington will be concerned with at first, not some horse farm. For God’s sake, it’s a big country, and we’re just little people, no threat to them now that everyone already knows about their shenanigans with the so-called anarchists.”

  “True,” Nate said. “Right now the military is the only thing between us and tyranny, and Capinos will have to deal with them first – if he can. But I guarantee you this farm and mine are on some kind of a list. We don’t want to be where they can find us. What I’m saying is it’ll take you days to evacuate, unless you leave all the food you just harvested behind. You probably should start the process now.”

  A tall, 30-something-year-old man with big tattoos on big arms pushed forward through the crowd and asked, “What do you mean if he can? When has the U.S. military ever gone against Washington? Do you have reason to believe it’ll be different this time?”

  “Yes I do,” Nate answered. “But there are no guarantees.”

  The man moved closer. “Why would it be different this time?”

  Nate turned to face the man squarely. “Because Capinos and most of Congress were not legitimately elected, and the Justices they appointed to the Supreme Court are therefore also illegitimate and carry no real constitutional power. On top of that, Capinos and his cohorts have proven they do not give a damn about the American people’s welfare. Their actions and inactions have caused the deaths of millions more than had to die in the aftermath of the plague.”

  Deni broke in. “Keep in mind that soldiers, Marines, sailors, airmen, and Coast Guardsmen are sworn to support and defend the Constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic and bear true faith and allegiance to the same. It’s true that the oath includes obeying the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. No one in the military has to obey illegal or immoral orders. Their oath is not to any illegitimate president or Congress that were never elected by the American people. No one here voted for those in power now and no one in the military did either.”

  Nate added, “Yes, every military officer rightly believes the President of the United States has constitutional authority over the military as Commander in Chief, but, as already stated, Capinos was not legitimately elected by the American people. He was a very wealthy man before the plague and has somehow managed to scheme and buy his way into power. Even though money has basically no worth at the moment, I guess some think it will someday and are willing to sell out the country for wealth. But the fact remains Capinos wasn’t elected president by the people. That is a big difference. To the military, it’s the difference.”

  A woman from somewhere back in the crowd yelled out at them, “And why should we trust the military to allow free elections and turn power back over to civilian authority?”

  Deni became angry. “That’s a good question, but you better pray the military sides with the people. If we have a real civil war, it’ll last a decade and finish off what’s left of us. That’s assuming today’s Americans have the spine to fight for the freedom so many past generations have handed over to their children.” She threw her hands up. “Who knows? It could all be over in a month. But that doesn’t mean the killing will stop. When has capitulating to tyrants done anything other than encourage more killing? In the 1900s, over one hundred million people were murdered by their own governments.”

  Brian edged closer to his father. “Has there been any effort to organize a resistance? I mean, have they started militias or anything? We never talked about that.”

  The look on Nate’s face took Deni’s breath away for a second.

  Caroline answered the question for him. “Oh, there are organizations out there all right. Some of them even call themselves militias. But they can’t seem to get together and decide on just the right way to hate other Americans. Then you got the raiders, who are equal opportunity haters. Or maybe they don’t hate you at all. Mostly they just want to rob, rape, and pillage. Hate may or may not have a thing to do with it. Either way, they’re not interested in fighting for any cause.”

  Nate sighed. “Well…” He had run out of words. He wasn’t exactly jumping at a chance to fight in a bloody civil war and didn’t want Deni or Brian to either.

  Brian glanced up at his father and then looked at the crowd. “Those of us who are left have survived because we’re tough. The weak have been weeded out by nature and violence. We’ll fight through this just like we have everything else.”

  Deni whispered in Nate’s ear. “You and Susan should’ve named him Nate Junior.”

  Caroline smiled at Brian. “I didn’t say it was hopeless. Just don’t expect more than maybe ten percent of the people to fight. Unfortunately, not all Americans are givers. Many are not even give-a-damners.”

  Mrs. MacKay said, “Okay. Everyone be quiet for a minute. We’ve made it this far, and I don’t believe this country is going to come apart like an Alka-Seltzer tablet under Niagara Falls just because of some little Hitler in Washington. The safest thing to do is for everyone to go to their assigned retreats now. We’ll leave a few people here to guard the farm tonight and every retreat will send a convoy of trucks back in the morning to load up with food and other needful items. We’ll keep the convoys at work until we have everything of value to our survival removed from the farm or it becomes too dangerous to continue.”

  “Chances are, we have plenty of time to get everything out,” Caroline said. “I still say we’re too insignificant for Washington to bother with.”

  The crowd seemed to have accepted MacKay’s decision, as there were no objections. No one even had anything more so say. The people rushed to their assigned duties and proceeded to carry out their preplanned emergency evacuation.

  “Do you think Caroline is right?” MacKay asked.

  “It’s logical,” Deni answered. “We’re no threat to Washington.”

  “Logical yes,” Nate said. “But you’re assuming our little Hitler is different from Germany’s version.”

  Deni looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “Hitler did a lot of things that were not logical, out of hatred, ego, and insanity.”

  “Oh shit!” Deni nodded. “You’re right. A lot of what Hitler did was illogical. It cost Germany any chance of a victory. He seemed to be more interested in slaughtering Jews than winning the war, and sacrificed whole divisions out of false pride, ordering them not to retreat when they could’ve escaped to fight another day.”

  Noticing the sinking mood of the adults, Samantha reached for Caroline’s hand. Caroline smiled down at her and winked. “Everything is okay.”

  ~~~

  Kramer tried to get comfortable in the bed, but his shoulder wouldn’t give him a
ny peace. Nurses had put something on his neck so he couldn’t see the results of the surgery. It just made him want to look that much more and it hurt when he pushed against it. For the tenth time, he yanked at the handcuff that constrained his good arm and prevented him from removing the neck torture device. “Why don’t they take pity on me and put me under? I’m a freak.”

  The door to his room opened and a full bird colonel walked in, followed by Mel. He noticed the colonel was wearing a 1911 pistol at his side and Mel was loaded up for battle, a rifle in his hands.

  “Can I borrow your pistol, Colonel?” Kramer asked.

  Col. Joe Greene scowled. “I wouldn’t expect a high-speed operator like you to choose that route out of this world. You lost your left arm, not your balls.”

  Kramer glared back. “I lost more than my arm. I’m a freak. Women will run screaming from me.”

  Col. Greene’s scowl softened somewhat. “Join the club. Women have been reacting to me that way for the last 20 years. My wife had a stroke the last time she saw me coming out of a shower.”

  Life came to Kramer’s eyes for a second. “Okay, Colonel, what do you want? I know you want something. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  Col. Greene turned to Mel and back to Kramer. “Have you forgotten your short conversation with the best damn sergeant in the Guard?”

  “Sure, I remember.” Kramer’s expression made it apparent he didn’t like being a pawn. “Look, I’m not some kind of a secret weapon that’ll take Capinos down. Everybody in the military has known for over a year he’s poison for America, yet they all follow his orders.” He glared at Greene. “It’s you higher-ranking officers who’ve lost your balls. And as long as that’s the case, Capinos is going to be wreaking havoc on what’s left of the people.”

  Greene’s brow furrowed. “Some of what you say is true, but don’t doubt the courage of the officer corps or their will to do the right thing, no matter the personal cost. I expect future events will prove you wrong.” He stood silent for a second to allow his blood pressure to lower. “And do not underestimate the effect your testimony will have on the political situation.” He slammed his right fist into his open left hand. “That SOB has the blood of millions of Americans on his hands. Hell, we’d be back on our feet by now if President Thomson hadn’t died in the plague. Might be anyway, if most of Congress hadn’t been taken also.”