by Linda Mackay
Todd appeared to have recovered from learning the tropics were not on his winter agenda. Amanda actually worried me more than Todd. She suffered from seasonal affective disorder, and the short daylight hours and continuous days of clouds could create a problem for her, that in the end affected all of us. It was a problem I would need to address with Mac soon.
“Hey Jorie, you in there?” Amanda asked waving her hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about this winter.”
“Mac’s right, this is the Twilight Zone,” she said, twirling her pink stripe.
“Do, do, do, do,” Todd sang the show’s theme song, reaching for his water bottle in the backseat of the truck.
I hopped out of the driver’s seat and looked around at the red hills and snow-capped mountains closing us into our valley. “I used to feel completely safe here, now it’s like I’m living in an eco-dome on the moon where I’m cut-off except for the occasional cryptic call from NASA feeding me half-truths and ridiculous pep talks.”
Todd screwed the lid back on his turquoise BPA-free water bottle. “It feels like when my grampy was dying. My family was completely focused on him and nothing else mattered. Yellowstone could’ve catastrophically blown at that time and I would not have blinked.”
Amanda looked at the clouds drifting over the mountains. “I remember when watching the sky’s changing beauty was how we spent our evenings. Now, I watch the sky for a plane coming to drop a bomb on us.”
“Regular people don’t think about consequences anymore,” Todd said. “I know I didn’t until July 4th.”
I wrapped my arms around both of them. “Every person will be living those consequences in the near future. So, let’s cut some more firewood so we don’t suffer from that consequence.” I smacked them both on the butt and sent them back to work. Taking my chainsaw out of the bed of my truck I helped Todd de-limb the trees. With each limb I cut I thanked the spirits of my ancestors that I knew how to survive.
“Somebody better call Snake Plissken.” Todd yelled at the TV.
The images on the television definitely warranted the need for Kurt Russell’s character from the movies Escape from New York and Escape from LA. “Looks like President Holmes’ last appearance didn’t impress anyone,” I said.
“Looked fake to me,” Ed said.
“Saying everything was back to normal didn’t impress anyone.” Liz grimaced, obviously in pain. Even more obvious was she hadn’t taken any pain pills, since the piranha attitude was back. “Our agents on the ground are reporting razor wire fences are being erected on the west coast.”
“Making John Carpenter’s vision of LA a reality,” Amanda said.
Mac peeled a banana. “Except their perimeter is attempting to secure most of California from the rest of the country. Last report said they were pushing those fences into Oregon until, part of Oregon pushed back.”
Frank threw his shirt over the TV. “Don’t need to see this to know the threats are becoming a reality.”
Dad pulled the shirt off the TV, “Unless the US does something soon, we’re going to be in all out civil war.”
Gramps walked in trailing my dogs behind him. “That’s a sight for my old eyes; history repeating itself again. Will these bozos follow the path of Marx, Stalin, Hitler, Mussolini, or maybe Castro, Duvalier or Jong-un. Humans will never learn.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mac said, “what matters is this country is dividing, with a lot of help from The Bakers. And I’d bet it won’t be as so-called-peaceful as when the former Soviet Union broke up.”
“It’s politicians inciting the people to hate one another. And they’ve done it for their own personal power, not for the good of the people,” Liz said. “This isn’t new; countries and their citizens have been aligning with this type of insurrection for centuries.”
“We studied all this in college.” Todd shook his head. “Why didn’t we see it coming?”
“Why didn’t we understand the warning signs?” Amanda added.
“Professors all across the world have studied this type of hate-indoctrination, and asked the same questions,” Mac said.
Liz looked at the violent protests on the television. “It appears to be how our lowly species is wired”
“Even the brightest are basically idiots pretending to be smart,” I said.
Ed turned off the television. “I believe across the universe there are species with massive superior intelligence, and some far more underdeveloped than us. I don’t care how many intellectuals write papers, it’s obvious we are incapable of learning from past mistakes.”
“Hell, people in town, over and over again, ride bikes across the street without looking and then flip off cars who are forced to slam on the brakes,” Frank said. “They never learn sharing the road doesn’t mean you ignore traffic laws.”
Mac laughed, “There are numerous examples across the world of this type of brain function where personal rules override not just laws but also common sense.”
“That explains the people who walk up to a two-thousand pound bison to get a selfie with it, even though they’ve been warned repeatedly about the danger,” Amanda said.
“And you people think I’m a hermit for preferring to spend my life around nature and animals instead of humans,” I said.
Gramps scratched Nuk’s favorite spot on his stomach. “To bring us back on point, there is no reason to research, debate, or write a paper on human behavior. Humans stole the land my people had lived on for centuries. Now Blackfoot land is nothing but a small reservation. The fact descendants of those invaders now want to create another country is nothing more than the instinctual genetics of the animals that roam the land. Questioning it is a waste of time. Surviving it with minimal blood shed should be our only goal.”
“Guess we know who the real genius is,” Todd said.
The front door opened with a loud thud against the wall. “Incoming aircraft, Colonel.”
Chapter 33
The noise from the anti-aircraft guns rattled the walls of the root cellar.
Inside, crammed like pickles in a jar were myself, Todd, Amanda, Ed, Dad, Gramps, my dogs, Frank’s two blue heelers, four cowboys, and Liz and her wheelchair. The only thing missing was a partridge in a pear tree…and Frank. As a trained marine he’d been given a job above ground.
Lining the remaining shelves in the cellar were our numerous firearms and ammunition.
Amanda had abandoned her slingshot, and my Recurve was in my cabin. This battle was too sophisticated for them.
Amanda squeezed my hand. “I know Mac told us this was coming, but I couldn’t make it real in my brain.”
“Me either,” I said.
Liz, positioned to the right of the door and facing it, held an automatic rifle tucked into her good arm. I had no doubt that even one-handed she could handle almost anything. “That wake-up call to your brain,” Liz said, “is why military training is intense and very reality based.”
Ed poked Todd in the side as he pushed back away from the door and into Ed and I. “First time battle casualties would be high if you had to wait for the shock to wear off and adrenalin to kick in.”
Liz gave Ed a how-do-you-know-that look. “The winters are long, so I read a lot,” Ed shrugged.
The guns quieted.
“Gramps,” Liz said, “take a look outside.”
“No!” I said. “I’ll do it.”
Gramps put his arm across me like a mother holding a child back from stepping into the road and being hit by a car. “Jorie, don’t interfere.” A wave of energy ran from his arm into my body and when he removed his arm I still couldn’t move forward to stop him. All these years he pretended to be the least shamanic member of the family. The truth was Gramps held a power that could be greater than his father or grandfather before him. His old hunting rifle in one hand, binoculars slung over the other, he walked up the stairs, unlocked and opened the door.
“Is Jorie’s bra flying?”
Liz yelled up at Gramps.
“No all-good-bra flapping in the breeze. In fact nothing is flying.”
“Shit, get back down here,” Liz said.
“Wait. They’re raising something. It’s Todd’s boxers with the neon crabs on it.”
Ed shook his head. “You people are beyond weird.”
“There’s nothing weird about my island crab boxers,” Todd said clearly insulted.
“It’s not the boxers that are weird, just your use of them,” Ed said.
“Stop babbling,” Liz ordered. “Those boxers mean ground forces arriving. Numbers, gramps?”
“Darn wind. Stinks we can’t use radios since those treasonous yahoos could listen in. Next flag says…hold on…twenty-one.”
“Implement Plan C.” Liz grimaced trying to adjust her position in the wheelchair.
One at a time we handed backpacks with ammo and guns, and then rifles, to the one closest to the door. I was the last member of Plan C to leave. I hugged Gramps, patted Liz on the head pissing her off, and told the dogs they were on guard. I closed the door behind me and heard Gramps lock it. There wasn’t time to dwell on the finality of the locked door. “Let’s go,” I said.
The cowboys were in the four-seat UTV, while the rest of us rode four-wheelers. Our job was food protection. The cowboys headed to the small winter bunkhouse. Dad and Todd were assigned the food at Mac’s cabin. Ed, Amanda and I were protecting the stores at my cabin. Two soldiers were stationed at the main bunkhouse. Heading into winter, food and firearms were the main things we couldn’t afford to lose. We had wells or the river for water, and shelter was easy to come by, even if we lost every building on the ranch. The odds of the government blowing up every closed-up summerhouse in the area were minimal. If they did, we still had caves they’d never locate.
Turning off the four-wheelers the silence unnerved me.
“The calm before the storm,” Ed said echoing my thoughts as he opened the door to my cabin and checked no one else was inside.
“I’d be really happy if the storm never came.” Amanda took up her pre-assigned position at the kitchen window.
“I’d prefer it hit soon.” I moved into the bedroom and looked out the window. “My stomach is churning with anticipation.”
“I thought I smelled anticipation.” Ed said from his station at the family room window.
“Bite me,” I said. “Oh no, movement at the edge of the trees.”
Ed ran into the bedroom. “The brush moved opposite direction of the wind.”
“You think they’d be smarter,” Amanda said looking over my shoulder.
“Speaking of smarter,” Ed said, “get back to your lookout so we aren’t blind on that side.”
“Oh shit, sorry.”
“Do you ever wonder if that old marine, Frank purposely didn’t plant more than a couple trees around these building?” Ed asked.
“I never thought about it. We’ve always had a few pines to break the north wind and the rest was cleared land.”
“Doesn’t matter the reasoning, I’m happy that the only way these dudes are getting near us is by showing themselves,” Ed said.
“Or they wait till dark.”
“Well thanks for the glass half empty, Jorie.”
“It’s my job.”
“And you’re damn good at it.”
We both jumped at the pop pop pop sounds coming from the hillside trees. I didn’t know I was holding my breath until I gasped for air. A soldier in a jean shirt with a green ribbon tied to his left arm, stepped briefly from his cover and waved two fingers at us.
“Guess that’s two we don’t have to worry about,” Ed said.
“I like how Liz put our people in jean shirts with Amanda’s ribbons,” I said.
“You’re welcome!” Amanda yelled from the kitchen. “And thanks to Big Tom and Edgar for having lots of 2xl jean shirts that fit over the soldiers’ coats.”
“And, who knew an agent high on pain killers could think that well.” Ed zipped his jacket against the chill in the cabin.
“Choosing to distinguish us from an enemy who may be dressed the exact same sounds more like it was for the dumb-people than the skilled soldiers.” After our encounter with Tom Bass, and the orders we were given about never vacating our assigned position, I was pretty sure the soldiers would know exactly who the enemy was even if everyone were identical clones.
Whether insult or intended help, I didn’t care. We did need help, and frankly we all looked damn good in our new uniforms of camo pants and jean shirts. Amanda had even insisted on a photo of everyone in our matching gear. I suspected when this was over, she’d demand the photo hang above the fireplace. I can’t say I disagree.
“Boogie on my left,” Amanda called.
“Dear God she’s a lunatic,” Ed said, “that would be a bogey.”
“I know what it is, geez, get a sense of humor. And then get over here and help me.”
Two people crawled through the fall grasses. “They must think we’re city folks who don’t know the difference between a human in the tall grass and a fox,” Ed said.
“What are you waiting on?” I called from my station in the bedroom.
“To far to get a good shot,” Amanda said just as rounds of automatic gunfire rang out.
“Holy shit,” I said, “that’s an automatic weapon?”
I could hear Amanda laughing.
Ed joined here.
“I can’t leave my place, what’s so funny?”
Ed walked into the bedroom. “The automatic weapon was fired by Todd, and he then tied two boxer briefs—which I presume belong to Mac since they’re in his cabin—to the end of a hiking stick, and waved it out the window to signal he took out two people.”
“Mac’s lucky someone didn’t fire holes in his underwear as revenge,” Amanda yelled from the kitchen.
I looked at Ed. “Who gave Todd an automatic weapon?”
Ed had the decency to look sheepish. “When we were taking target practice, Todd was in the kill zone every round. No matter what Mac threw in as an obstacle.”
“You’re saying Mac tested your skills?”
“I might be.”
“Why wasn’t I included?”
“He said something about you vetoing it if you knew.” Ed turned and left the room faster than Nuk after he threw up on my bed.
The afternoon dragged by and I could feel my diligence needing a nap as much as my eyes. I dozed off and my head hit the window, waking me.
“Take a walk,” Ed said. “I’ll watch your window.”
Taking a walk meant moving around the few hundred square feet of my cabin. I first used the bathroom and then washed my face with cold water. Looking back at me in the mirror was a person I didn’t recognize. My eyes had layers of bags under them, and dark circles from rubbing off mascara. There were wrinkles around my forehead, eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there days before. My shirt was torn at the shoulder where I caught it on a low coat hook I used for my jackets. There was a bruise on my lower arm where I whacked the bed frame when I was too tired to pay attention. My hair, normally so easily contained in a ponytail, looked like I had been walking outside in a tornado.
I was a mess.
I looked at the shower and was truly tempted to take a 30-second shower.
“Don’t even think about it,” Amanda said behind me. “If you don’t mind I need to use the facility, so could you keep watch in the kitchen?”
“Sure,” I said. “And the same goes for you.”
“I may not get in the shower, but I don’t promise I won’t dip my head under the faucet.”
Crap. Why didn’t I think of that?
“No one’s doing anything except numbers one and two in there.” Ed yelled from the bedroom.
“I knew there was a reason Mac didn’t leave Jorie and I alone,” Amanda yelled back.
“I mean it Manny, do not make me come in there.”
“Poop on you, Ed.” She walked out of the ba
throom. “Was that fast enough for your high and mightiness?”
“Timeout. We’re all tired, and that lapse in our conscientiousness is what the bad guys are waiting on, so let’s buck up,” I said.
“They’re waiting on darkness to hide them,” Ed corrected me. “They don’t give a shit about us either way.”
“I’m with Ed on this,” Amanda said. “We’re David and they’re Goliath; they’re The Jolly Green Giant and we’re peas.”
“I hate peas.” I took up Ed’s old position in the family room.
“Gramps says we can’t say hate,” Amanda scolded.
“Gramps isn’t here so…tough couch pillows.”
“Tough pillows?” Ed was clearing questioning my mental stability.
Amanda laughed, “She’s trying not to say the F word.”
“Couch pillows were the first thing I saw,” I said.
“You know that’s how native tribes named their children,” Amanda teased.
“If that were true my name would’ve been, man with beer.”
“That’s totally true,” Amanda said. “Every time Jorie and her Dad start talking, he gets a beer.”
“Stop talking about beer,” Ed said, “you’re making me thirsty.”
Looking out the window I watched the sky turn to total darkness so fast it was like someone had turned off a light switch. “No moon rising.”
