Fault Line In The Sand

by Linda Mackay

  With Liz limited to full use of only one arm, I helped her tear a piece of medical tape off for my bandage. “You knew darn well he’d been dying to be a spy.”

  “That crazy little dude doesn’t have a prayer of being a spy, but he sure is fun to taunt.” Liz taped the bandage on my leg and slapped the wound.

  I jumped out of the chair like I’d been kicked off a fence. “What was that for?”

  “For laughing that Gramps forgot about me in the cellar.”

  “Who told you I laughed?”

  “Gotcha ya! I knew you laughed.”

  “I can’t believe I missed you,” I whispered to myself.

  “You missed me?” The look on Liz’s face revealed she was genuinely shocked.

  It seemed like a good time to press my advantage. “How old are you?”

  “You finally came to the source, when no one else would tell you.”

  “I haven’t asked that many people.”

  “You’ve asked everyone but the dogs.”

  She was right. And I hated that her network of spies was better than mine. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “If I do, I’d have to kill you.”

  “It would be worth it.”

  She motioned me to come closer, checked to see if anyone was near, and then pulled me down by my shirt and whispered in my ear.

  I stood and smiled.

  “Don’t be so smug.” Liz chastised me. “You weren’t exactly right.”

  “Close enough.”

  “Let’s keep this between friends who missed each other.”

  “Friends?” Now, I was shocked.

  “Don’t spread it around, but I kind of like you.”

  I laughed. “I might kind of like you too.”

  “Watch the smugness. It’s unbecoming.” Liz turned her wheelchair toward the kitchen, and waved me over to push her. “Come on. Let’s get a beer.”

  Chapter 35

  Two Months Later

  “Did they finally decide on what to buy with the F-boot money?” Mac asked, entering Dad’s family room with an armful of firewood and a blast of sub-zero temperatures.

  Liz limped in from the kitchen with a mug of one of her favorite teas. “You are going to love this one. Jorie, you get the honor.”

  “It seems Gramps got involved while you and dad were out with the firewood.”

  Mac looked at Tata and Gramps who’d uncorked a bottle of wine and were toasting. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”

  Ed laughed, stirring the fire to a fresh blaze. “They’ve voted not to spend the money yet.”

  I took the glass of wine Todd handed me and toasted Mac. “Instead, they’re going to bill the government for new snow machines, UTVs, and an outdoor sauna, saying the old ones were destroyed in the battle.”

  Mac laughed, “Good luck with that since the accounting department will want photos of the destroyed ones.”

  “That’s the best part,” Liz said. “They plan to use grenades to blow-up old ones that Frank keeps in his machine graveyard to use for parts.”

  “And where do they plan to get these grenades?” Mac looked at Liz.

  “It’s not like I have a use for them,” Liz smiled.

  “Merry Christmas,” I toasted Mac again.

  “Director Ford wants our expense reports before the end of the year,” Mac said, ignoring me.

  “No problem,” Liz said. “The machine funeral is planned for Christmas morning.”

  “And how do you plan to explain the sauna?” Mac thought he had the schemers on this one.

  “Evidently Gramps already talked to Frank and they’re going to blow-up the old pump house,” I smiled.

  “Seriously, Frank is in on this?”

  “Yep, he said the damn thing is nothing more than a mouse mansion,” I said.

  “Your impression could use some work, but it’s going to take more than a grenade to level it.” Mac held out the palm of his hand. “Stop. Don’t tell me. I want deniability when the damn thing explodes.”

  “I plan to be miles away on a snow machine,” I said. “I’ve avoided jail so far and don’t intend to follow those criminals’ path.”

  “They’re adapting to their new line of work,” Liz said.

  “Speaking of being miles away,” Mac said, scratching Nuk’s head. “What was that helicopter dropping off while Frank and I were at the woodshed?”

  “My cabin windows. The Director said it was a Christmas gift so I didn’t have to live in a boarded up cabin all winter.”

  “Did she send one for my cabin?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “Did she at least drop any Cognac for cold winter nights,” Mac grumbled.

  “Nope. But she left you a note that said your retirement was rescinded.”

  “You read my mail?”

  “The note was more of a P.S. at the end of her thank-you note to me.” I grinned at him. “If you want to read it, it’s on the kitchen table.”

  Mac stomped out the front door, ranting about being nothing more than a postscript.

  Liz applauded and then poured a small splash of brandy in her tea. “Nice touch not telling him he’d been given a promotion and a pay raise.”

  “Do you really think he cares?” I asked.

  “Probably more than you know. But letting him stew about it for a while is good for him. A little humble pie for keeping you in the dark.”

  The ancient clock on the mantle chimed the half-hour. Checking my watch it read 4:35 p.m.; the old beauty was only five minutes slow. I turned on more lamps and flicked the outside switch for the Christmas lights. It was a luxury when you were off-grid, but every Christmas Eve we lit the ranch up like Times Square.

  “It’s beautiful,” Liz said. I no longer jumped when she appeared behind me without making a sound. I’d learned she moved like the mountain lion family that wintered in the cave above our cabins; with stealth and grace.

  “Frank let me use twinkle lights this year even though he hates them,” I said.

  “President Holmes died,” Liz whispered.

  “What happened?”

  “Officially, aggressive cancer. We assume she succumbed to whatever poison The Bakers were using on her.”

  I suspected this was coming and was no longer shocked by The Bakers’ actions. “This means proceeding with prosecution for assassinating President Wallace is no longer a card in our poker hand.”

  Liz nodded. “This hand is a draw. We took out five of The Bakers, and still have eyes on most of the other suspected members.”

  “I take it former VP Barston took office as President of New West.”

  “He did.”

  “At least former Secretary of State Gates is holding together the rest of country,” I said.

  “She did a great job as President pulling all the US troops, equipment, ships and airplanes out of New West. I think even The Bakers were surprised to discover that US troops don’t easily disobey their oath to protect The Constitution; especially when it involves revolt against other Americans.”

  “Liz, who are The Bakers loyal too…New West or America?”

  “Look at it this way. It’s like a divorce and The Bakers are the children. Those children control both parents. Trust me, they aren’t giving up any power. They chose California for their base because it was a defiant state clamoring for independence and therefore easily used for their purpose. It’s also catastrophically in debt, yet adamant it’s the example for how the rest of the world should govern themselves. And that makes them, perfect pawns.”

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “We move on and start over. The time may come when the truth is believed, but for now, we can’t fight it.”

  “Two countries. It may end up being for the best,” I said.

  “I agree. But the growing pains will be violent.”

  “Does it have to be that way?”

  “Water,” Liz said.

  “What?”

  “It’s destined
to be that way because California has been fighting a water war with most of the other western states for decades. Now they claim they aren’t part of the US. Therefore, they lost their US senators and representatives and all that power. They will have to renegotiate as a foreign country.”

  “And with the agricultural part of California stating they will remain in the US, they won’t have that base either,” I said.

  “Hubris is a vile master,” Liz said. “And they still believe they will be better off without America. At this point I’m not arguing the break-up is wrong, even though America’s status as a super power is in the toilet for the immediate future.”

  I watched my family laughing and enjoying a peace that so many hope for in their own way, and with their own beliefs. Why had we as a country stopped caring about each other and drawn lines in the sand? Lines that broke us apart, with each side demanding they were the true path, with only hatred for others. “Let’s not tell the rest about this until after Christmas.”

  Liz squeezed my hand. “I agree.”

  “At least we had several months of warning.” I released my hair from its ponytail, and shook my hair out. “The rest of the country went to bed one night expecting to wake up to their normal routine and instead woke fighting for basic survival.”

  “JORIE!” Mac yelled from outside.

  “Sounds like someone told Mac about his promotion,” Liz said.

  Taking my coat off the hook at the door, I zipped up and pulled the hood tight against the awaiting storm outside. “Liz, I’m sorry we missed celebrating Hanukah for you.”

  “I take it Mac ratted me out.”

  “He did,” I said, “and gramps made you a menorah out of wood, ironically for a Christmas gift. Its pretty awful so be prepared.”

  “It’ll be beautiful to my eyes.”

  It was a beginning.