by Glen Tate
Jeanie forced herself to quit with the big thoughts and concentrate on her work. She headed off to start the tour she was giving of Camp Murray to some city officials from Seattle. They were gushing about all the good work the government was doing for them. Semi-trucks of food were rolling into the grocery store in their Seattle neighborhood. Jeanie knew which store they were talking about. It was near where she lived briefly in Seattle before getting her job in Olympia. The store was a hoity-toity high-end organic foods supermarket. Everything there cost a lot more than anywhere else. They had several hundred kinds of cheese before the Collapse. That store had all kinds of signs up about how they were doing “green” things for the environment. Five dollar lattes. At least that’s what they cost a few years ago. She could only imagine what they’d cost now, but guessed that people were still buying them – assuming that store had any lattes to sell.
Jeanie realized she was being negative about all this “collapse” and “reset” stuff. She needed to be positive to get through another day there. She thought about all the free lattes she could get at the cafeteria at Camp Murray. She had everything she needed. She was well taken care of and that was something positive.
A few seconds after trying to be positive, Jeanie realized there was plenty of scary news, too. Even though she was not receiving the daily briefings, scuttlebutt around Camp Murray described some troubling developments.
The Governor had issued a “declaration of insurrection.” This was a bigger deal than the previous “declaration of emergency,” which gave emergency powers to the civilian state government. The declaration of insurrection went further. It allowed the Governor to declare martial law and totally suspend civilian government, like the courts and the Constitution. Fortunately, Jeanie knew that the state didn’t have nearly enough troops or police to implement this outside of their two strongholds: Seattle, the biggest city, and Olympia, the state capitol. But it was frightening that they had given themselves this kind of power. Worse yet, most people, at least in the government-controlled areas, welcomed martial law. They were glad the government was “doing something.”
Another frightening development Jeanie heard at Camp Murray was that a bunch of Patriot military and police units had defected and formed the “Washington State Guard.” This was an army, but it wasn’t controlled by the state or federal governments. It was the rebel army, the army fighting the government. No one at Camp Murray called it a “civil war’ – it wasn’t like there were blue and grey uniforms and two different flags. Now there was so much chaos that a formal term like “civil war” seemed too grand. It was just that everything had broken down and now some army had apparently formed that was out to replace the current government.
The government people at Camp Murray were freaking out over the announcement of the Washington State Guard. They had back-to-back and overnight meetings about this. They talked about which units of the military and police were “loyal” and which ones had “gone over” to the other side.
Delegations of military officers came to Camp Murray to meet with the Governor, who seemed to be trying to persuade—plead with, actually—these officers to stay loyal. Most of the officers were issuing demands as the price of staying loyal. They wanted money or supplies or to stay out of combat in exchange for not “going over.” The government was giving them whatever they wanted. There was no guarantee, though, that the units promising loyalty would stay loyal. In fact, a few officers were shopping out their units to the highest bidders, who were almost always the Loyalists, since they had stuff to give away. Besides, the Patriots were not interested in mercenary units just doing it for the money.
Jeanie also heard rumblings about the gangs. Not just the street gangs that they’d all known about. The people at Camp Murray who oversaw gang activity were worried about the “super gangs,” which were large alliances of affiliated street gangs. Much like the mercenary military units, the super gangs were demanding more and more from the government to stay loyal. They wanted more food, fuel, medicine, and guns that they would then sell. They wanted more and more “territory,” which meant the government would lose control to them in a given area.
Some of the super gangs got tired of the measly pickings the government gave them and went into business for themselves. South Seattle and much of Tacoma were run by various super gangs, mostly Mexican, Asian, and Russian. The government sent some regular Army units from Ft. Lewis to stand up against the super gangs. These units wore ski masks to hide their identities just like the government troops fighting gangs in Mexico used to do. Those photographs stayed off the news. The Army units cleaned out the rebel gangs, at a terrible cost in casualties and equipment. The civilian casualties were horrendous. Another disturbing outcome of these raids was that, due to the lack of Army manpower, the gangs still loyal to the government—the competitors with the rebel gangs—had to be used to occupy the conquered parts of Seattle and Tacoma. The loyal gangs were perfectly happy to have some new territory. They went on a looting and raping spree in the new areas. The Army just watched, and some even joined in.
But, that was somewhere else, Jeanie told herself. Sure, it was only a few miles away, but it wasn’t where she lived. And it was only a small area of Seattle and Tacoma. That was not happening in the majority of the state, so most people were OK. Jeanie was trying to stay positive.
Then she had another thought. Winter was coming. It was sunny and nice out now, but wait until it got cold and rainy. It never got brutally cold in Washington State, but it did rain for months, which meant people would be huddled inside, coughing on each other. Communicable diseases would go through the roof. The people at Camp Murray had been planning for outbreaks of all kinds of third world diseases that no one thought could pop up in America. Cholera and typhoid were on the top of their lists.
One thing Jeanie did know from her work was that the government was definitely supplying the friendly urban areas much more than the rural areas. There was a rumor that the government would soon threaten to shut off utilities to rural areas to get them to comply. Jeanine didn’t know if that was true, but she did know one thing. Almost all the food and supplies were delivered to the Seattle area and Olympia. In fact, she was told to brag about this to her urban and suburban VIP tour guests. She would tell them that the government was “doing the most for as many as possible,” which meant feeding the cities. In fact, now that she thought about it, she never had VIPs from rural areas. It was as if the areas outside Seattle, the suburbs, and Olympia didn’t exist anymore.
They kind of didn’t. There was no government out there. Local government still existed in rural areas, though it was barely functioning. Local law enforcement still operated, but mostly with the help of volunteers. Some fire departments still operated out there. House fires were a problem with all the looting and crime. Criminals would set a house on fire to destroy evidence, eliminate witnesses, or intimidate residents.
Out in the rural areas, there were no social services, roads departments, tax collection, or anything like that. The most that many cities and towns in rural areas could manage was a semi-professional police force, and maybe a small fire department. Libraries? Parks? Forget about it. The thought of a functioning library or park seemed absurd, given all the other needs of the people in a town.
The parks reminded Jeanie of the paras, the paramilitary groups operating on all sides, who were rumored to be killing people in parks. All the parks of her childhood were probably now full of bodies, she thought.
Although she no longer attended the briefings, she still heard murmurings among staff, and those who were huddled in the conference rooms at Camp Murray were really worried about the paras. Not only because they signified lawlessness and because people were getting killed, but more importantly, because many paras were said to be targeting Loyalists, who were the people in that room. Going after the paras was self-defense for the Loyalists.
The paras also introduced a lot of uncertainty. People wondered if they c
ould trust the person they were giving sensitive information to. They worried he or she may tell the paras. And, if so, which paras? It slowed down operations. A person’s loyalty had to be checked and double checked before they could be trusted to act. It also meant that some of the government’s best plans were thwarted by para informers, and not just informers who were working directly for paras. Regular people with no political agenda were afraid of paras. They would give paras information out of fear even if they didn’t support that particular para group’s politics.
To try to control them, especially the ones threatening the Loyalists, the government used its insurrection powers to round up suspected Patriots and paras. The government didn’t have enough troops and professional police to do this, so the task fell on the pathetic, but numerous, Freedom Corps.
Most of the suspects who the FCorps rounded up were sent to hundreds of hastily created medium-security “temporary detention facilities” for a few weeks and then released. Quick releases were required because it cost too much to feed them. Suspects didn’t actually eat too well in the temporary detention facilities, but even a meager diet was costly.
The main penalty was taking away suspects’ FCards. Arresting them was done more to intimidate others than to actually incarcerate the suspects. That’s about all the government could do.
All of the insurrection powers exercised by the government were “temporary.” Order had to be restored, Jeanie kept telling herself. She realized she had a personal stake in supporting all the emergency powers. If strong measures weren’t taken, the Patriots (or terrorists, or paras, or whatever they were) would kill every government official. Like her.
Oh God, Jeanie thought. Where does this all end? There were so many people killing each other already. People can’t just forget all the killings and get back to normal. This could never be “temporary.” It will continue until one side wins, and that side wipes out the other side.
She was starting to wonder if she’d picked the right side.
Chapter 145
Tom’s “New Normal”
(June 4)
The rooster woke Tom Foster. He was getting used to it. In fact, the rooster crowing at dawn, which was about 4:30 a.m. this time of year, was feeling normal. He never thought it would. Now it was part of his day.
What a change he’d been through. Just a month ago, he was an executive for the state’s largest business association, the Washington Association of Business. He lived in a nice home in Olympia and ate at restaurants all the time; business lunches and dinners were part of his job. He never really did anything outdoors. He kept in decent shape, but was definitely a city boy.
Not anymore. Now he was getting up at the crack of dawn out at the Prosser Farm. He worked with his hands outside all day. He ate what he hunted or milked. He was growing food in his garden, too. His hands were starting to callus. At first, he was sore from all the new physical activity, but his body was quickly becoming accustomed to the labor. He was getting in great shape, and he was tan. He felt pretty good.
The one Prosser Farm activity that resembled their old undercover activities was that they had continued to record the Rebel Radio Podcast episodes. Brian, Ben, and Tom would get together once a week and talk into the microphone attached to the laptop that Tom brought out when they fled Olympia to hide out on the farm. They talked about how everything happening had been totally predictable. They called that segment of the show “Who Saw That Comin’?” They would talk about how they had been warning against the extreme expansion of government for years before the Collapse. They would recall the examples of corruption they discussed on the show before the Collapse. They didn’t treat their past predictions which had come true in a snarky “I told you so” way. Instead, they approached their accurate predictions by saying, “Well, we were right. Now hear what else we think is coming.”
They couldn’t post their new episodes on the internet, of course, so they burned them onto CDs and Dennis smuggled them into Olympia for distribution to the Patriots. They wondered if anyone was even listening.
Things were going just fine at the Prosser Farm, especially when Tom realized what they had out there compared to Olympia. Tom and the other WAB people and their families would have been rounded up by those Freedom Corps idiots under the “Declaration of Insurrection” or whatever the government was calling the power it gave itself. Tom wondered how many of his WAB staff and friends had been picked up. He wondered if they were still alive or languishing in a jail somewhere.
Even if all the WAB people weren’t wanted by the government, crime was another reason to get out of Olympia. Dennis told them about the crime after returning from his trips into Olympia distributing the Rebel Radio CDs. It was totally out of control. Almost all citizens in Olympia were disarmed. They were mostly government employees—well, former employees now that the government officially ran out of money—and a surprising number of them didn’t have guns to start with. Most of those who did have them dutifully turned them in when they were ordered to. And, for some unexplainable reason, crime started going through the roof.
There was food in Olympia. The government semis regularly rolled into the city and the TV news would show dozens of trucks waiting to be unloaded. Feeding the state capitol was a priority for the government. They wanted to take care of “their people.” The government people had plenty of money on their FCards. After all, they were the ones deciding who got how much on their cards.
The people in Olympia thought they were the lucky ones. They had plenty of food and other supplies. Most had “jobs,” like working for the FC. They weren’t their old jobs where they got paid with money, but they got their FCards filled with credits and they had things to buy with them. They were happy. Some of them got “fringe benefits” from their jobs. That was the term that emerged for bribes. An FC member might get five gallons of fuel for “accidentally” not finding a person he or she was supposed to pick up. Fringe benefits were a significant source of spending money. They always were in every corrupt society. Now America had become one, too.
In contrast to the corruption and crime of Olympia, Tom’s family and the other WAB staff’s families were safe at the Prosser Farm. They had plenty to eat. In fact, they had surpluses. But, there were lifestyle adjustments that the WAB city people had to make, like getting up at the crack of dawn and wearing clothes they thought looked a little out of date. However, the clothes were functional and, besides, they weren’t going out for a night on the town. It didn’t take long for the farm clothes to feel normal.
The WAB kids were getting along very well. They thought the farm was some kind of vacation camp. They were learning all kinds of new things, like how to milk a cow. They got to run around and play without supervision. They liked playing on their own much better than having rigid schedules for soccer and ballet practices. They were playing like kids used to play before everything got suburbanized and over-scheduled.
Things weren’t perfect out there, though. Brian’s wife, Karen, did not love the farm; she was merely tolerating it. She was a good sport about it and tried not to let it show, but it was just so foreign to her. She worried about her home back in Olympia. Did those people who were trying to arrest her husband know where their Olympia house was, and were they trying to destroy it? But most of all, Karen worried about the kids. Sure, they were reasonably safe out there, but they weren’t in school and their academic progress would suffer. It was summer now, and they couldn’t be in school then anyway, but what about the fall? She didn’t want them to be behind when school started back up in a few months.
Karen believed school would start up in the fall after this “temporary” little crisis. She firmly believed things would be back to normal. She was having a hard time even believing any of this was really happening. Sometimes she wondered if everyone wasn’t overreacting. She had never been very interested in politics. Maybe her husband and the WAB people were just hiding out for no reason. It just didn’t seem logical that go
vernment people would hate them so much that they would hurt them. That just didn’t make any sense. Why would people do that? She’d never seen it or even heard of violence like that. This must be a big overreaction.
Another thing that wasn’t perfect was the lack of normal services, like medical care. Tom realized that a simple accident out there could be fatal. There was no ambulance to call. Even if it was only a simple cut, there were no antibiotics available. They were working all the time with tools and sharp things and they didn’t really know how to use them. That’s what scared Tom the most.
Tom missed beer. He loved microbrews and, before the Collapse, had a beer or two every night. There was no beer out there. There was some God-awful Budweiser available, but he couldn’t drink that. He really, really missed beer. He realized that he was actually missing the “normal” times when he could drink a beer at his house without people trying to kill him. That’s truly what he missed, but he focused on the beer. If he only had his beer, everything would be OK again.
The farms around the Prosser property were all along Delphi Road. It connected to Highway 101, the main highway into Olympia, which was about ten miles away. There were probably a hundred farms or houses along Delphi. The families got together at the old Delphi schoolhouse and decided to post guards at the exit from Highway 101 onto Delphi Road. That way, they could protect all of them with just one guard station. It was a pretty beefy guard station. They averaged about ten men and women on a shift. There were quite a few ARs and some AKs and lots of ammo, too. Those ole’ boys (and girls) had plenty of firepower.
The Delphi area residents formed a “bubba guard,” which was a neighborhood guard station. Since gas was so hard to come by, Delphi guards couldn’t just drive to the roadblock for an eight-hour shift and then drive back, so they decided on seven-day shifts with guards staying at the station, which eliminated the need for daily commutes to the guard station.
