Chapter 10 -- VRGXRMZAZXNRSCXF
With Jessica driving and Tracy in the back seat, they set out on a tour of the
area. There were few roads that were wider than necessary for two vehicles to
pass if necessary, and they occasionally intersected with narrower trails
which wound off into the forests. The first stop was on a hillside
overlooking a lake that appeared to be artificial, or at least having been
modified. The road ran down to and about a third of a way around the lake,
which appeared to have been made by building a levee across a small valley. A
couple of small boats were on the lake, each with two occupants who appeared
to be fishing.
"This is one of several small lakes we've built," Tracy told them. "Since we
produce as much food as possible here, the lakes help. And besides fish, they
serve as a water supply. Up here wells have to be deep to get to water, so for
irrigation we use the lakes. Down there to your right is one of several small
farming plots. Let's go by the range."
They crossed the levee and went back into the forest. Jessica seemed to know
the area and navigated without much direction. A quarter of a mile or so later,
overlooking another shallow valley, Carter could see a wide flat area with a
wide grassy area several hundred yards long, with clusters of buildings along
the sides. Jessica drove on down the hill to one end, where he could see what
looked like a row of covered shooter positions, and looking down at the other
end what looked like target holders.
"As you can see," said Tracy, "we have a couple of shooting ranges - the long
one is four hundred yards, the shorter one is indoors in that long white
building. I would guess you know something about guns. There's an urban
combat range as well as one with an outdoor environment. You'll get some time
in out here."
"With a four hundred yard range, I would guess you can do some, I guess you would call it,
sniper training." Carter said.
"Exactly," Tracy replied. "We'd like something larger, but four hundred yards
is a quarter mile, which is a little big for this area. There are a couple of places, one
in Texas and another in Arizona, with thousand yard ranges. Not that it's
ever likely you'd have to shoot a target that far away, but you never know. How
are you skills?"
"Being a cop, I was naturally trained for proficiency with handguns, so most
of our practice was at short ranges. Most urban gunfights are at fairly close
range. I did a little rifle practice, but it was on a hundred yard range."
"We try to prepare for all eventualities," Tracy said. "Of course, we're not, we would not
be bound by any regulations. We practice close range, as in close enough to
touch. And we practice with knives, as well as unarmed and improvised weapon
combat. Even grenade practice - you never know."
The tour continued, another lake, another patch of crops, and occasionally a
large metal building, looking somewhat out of place with no other buildings
around. Carter supposed it was part of the policy of scattering and hiding
assets. Certainly any intruders would have a hard time finding anything other
than trees, unless they knew where to look.
Occasionally they passed a small group of cabins much like the ones he had
seen upon arrival. There were usually four or five, separated by several
hundred feet. Tracy told him that the members who lived on the site occupied
them.
"They give us eyes all over the place," she said. "They know the place like
their own backyards, since it is their backyard. Any trespassers will be
spotted and dealt with quickly. In normal times that means they are advised
of their error and escorted off the property. In other times it would
probably mean something else. We're getting close to the perimeter now, I'll
show you the warning signs."
A few minutes later the road they were on ended, looping back on itself so a
vehicle could turn back the way it had come, and Jessica stopped.
"Let me show you something," Tracy said, opening the door as Jessica did the same.
Carter followed them through a relatively thin stand of trees, and then the
trees became more dense again. Looking back at the way they had come, it
looked as if the area had been deliberately thinned. Tracy stopped,pointed to
a tree with a wide patch of purple paint on its trunk.
"The paint is used to mark boundaries," she said. "Anyone out in the woods
knows the paint is like a 'NO TRESPASSING' sign. So if they come in anyway,
they're violating the law. The marks have to be no more than a hundred feet
apart, so it takes some work to maintain them.
"Out here we don't have much of a problem with trespassers. The people who
live here or hunt here regularly - legally anyway - know what the paint is for."
Walking back to the Trailblazer Carter was struck by the tranquility of the
place. Sunlight diffused by the canopies of the trees dimly lighted the area, and
it was almost completely silent. He had been out of the city only occasionally,
and then it was usually to places frequented by other people, and he had spent
little time in an environment so quiet and peaceful. He wanted to lie down
and go to sleep and let the world go to wherever it was going without him.
"You seemed a little preoccupied back there," Jessica said as they drove away.
"It's so peaceful out here it's easy to forget everything, just want to not
have to worry about things. Guess that's not an option."
"Not for people like us, I'm afraid," Jessica replied. "For too many people,
it is. It's always a few carrying the load for the many. The sheeple, most
of us call them."
"Yeah, I've heard that. On the radio talk shows. Lot of the guys I worked
with listened to them, they all talked about the same things, country going
all to hell and no one doing anything to stop it. Of course, they weren't
doing anything either, except talking.
"And they didn't do anything when I was sacrificed. The best any of them did
was keep their mouths shut, and they even got a couple of them to commit
perjury to put me away. They were afraid of having the city burned. Makes
you wonder if the sheep are worth saving."
"The founders probably thought something like that as well," said Tracy. "Less
than half of the colonists supported the war, and quite a few of them were
actively against it. It was a miracle it succeeded, literally. We're likely to need
one again this time."
"I hope we get it," Carter said. "I haven't had much time, since I left the
world I was in, to develop any thoughts along those lines."
"Unfortunately most people these days seem not to think outside their personal
world," Tracy said. "Career, family, finances. Taxes have put so much
pressure on people - those who actually are working - they don't have time for
much else. That's probably the biggest reason there's not much resistance to
the corruption in government and the mobs destroying the cities. The people
who don't work, subsidized by the taxpayers, are the ones doing all the crime
and destruction."
"Do you really believe anything would wake them up now?" asked Carter.
"Not likely," she replied. "When everything really falls apart, the people in
the cities have no food, no electricity or water, it's going to get really ugly.
And there are those, in the right positions in government, who are just
waiting for that opportunity to impose their planned regime, in the name of
safety and order. And the sheeple will at the least offer no resistance, and
many will support it."
"We're all of the resistance, I suppose."
"Pretty much. There are a lot of people, individually and in small groups,
who won't go quietly. But they'll be easy enough to handle, under martial law.
And make no mistake, it will come to that. Out here in the country they can
hold out for a while, but eventually the only survivors will be in hiding."
"And what will we be doing? I know what we're preparing for, but do we pull
the trigger before or after that?"
"That," Tracy said, "is under discussion, and has been for some time. I do
know we're getting close to the point at which we'll have to look at some
preventive measures, but in the end, it's hard to say."
The tour went on for another hour or so, and aside from several groups of
cabins and a few more of the large non-descript buildings, everything was
mostly trees. Eventually they ended up back at the headquarters.
"Looks like Chris is back," Tracy said as they arrived. "That's his truck."
Of the several vehicles parked there, only one was a truck - the others were
mid-sized SUVs like the Trailblazer. The truck was, like most vehicles Carter
had observed in use, was a plain-looking Dodge that appeared to be at least
ten or so years old. It looked smaller than the current models he saw on the
roads, and it was apparently a four-wheel-drive, judging from the high
clearance and large off-road tires. Perhaps the vehicle used on his patrol.
They went inside the building where Tracy had welcomed them earlier. As they
entered, a young man was coming up the hallway and emerged into the open area
where they stood.
"We're back," Tracy said. "Darrell, this is my brother Chris, and Chris, this
is Darrell, obviously."
Chris, a good-looking young man in his mid twenties, held out his hand.
"Good to see you at last. Jessica's told us a lot about you."
After shaking hands with Carter, he hugged Jessica.
"And as usual, Tracy and I have been eagerly awaiting for another visit."
Carter, accustomed to assessing newly met individuals quickly, immediately
liked what he saw in Chris, at least based on his speech and mannerisms. He
had the same look as his sister - plain outfit of jeans and the same khaki
shirt that everyone he met seemed to favor. He was also wearing a holstered
revolver, from the looks of it a rather large caliber. He had the look of
someone who spent a a lot of time outdoors.
"How was the patrol?" asked Tracy.
"As usual," Chris replied. "No problems, we took our time since there wouldn't
be much to do before dinner. Speaking of which, how about it? I just got in
a few minutes ago."
"Sounds good," Tracy said. "Let's go."
They went over to the dining facility where they had had lunch earlier. The
menu was a little different - something that appeared to include fried fish.
Carter guessed it was catfish, given that it was accompanied by small round
breaded balls which he remembered from somewhere were called hush puppies.
french fries and coleslaw confirmed his suspicions - he had only occasionally
eaten at fish places other than seafood restaurants. And of course, for seven
years he hadn't been given any choice of food. In any case, it was delicious,
as he observed to his hosts.
"One of our partners-in-crime, so to speak, has a large fish farm," Chris told
him. "Among his other enterprises. I guess Jessica has filled you in somewhat
on how we trade among ourselves. It keeps our costs down, but it also keeps
us from being dependent on the fragile supply as the rest of the country."
"It would you're pretty well positioned to survive quite a lot," Carter said.
"Having only been with us a few weeks, there's quite a lot to learn. Of
course it'll take a while, but you'll enjoy it. But it's always there, in the
back of out minds, what we're preparing for. So we try to enjoy life as much
as we can, which isn't hard if you like what you're doing. I'd hate to be
stuck in a city at a desk or something, I'd probably be watching the clock all
day."
"Or driving a patrol car," Carter said. "I grew up in the city, rarely got out.
But after years of it, I was always going to work figuring if something bad
hadn't happened yet it was because it was about to. And one day it did. I
just didn't realize what a hellhole I was living in until I got out. I'll be
glad not to be there when it all comes unglued."
"We wish it didn't have to be that way," Chris said. "But most of us
don't see any way around it. There does seem to be a school of thought among
them that we might be able to slow or even stop it, but even that would
require mobilizing our forces in some way, to some degree. It gets discussed,
but no plans are ready for execution. So for now we wait."
Carter thought about the enormity of the entire problem. Intervening in what
was essentially a guerilla war going on in the nation's in population centers,
with the enemy being for the most part supported by the political
establishment in those states, getting involved would be a touchy business.
But when the alternative was to wait until the country was at the cliff's edge -
that was still something he didn't want to contemplate.
They were all quiet for a while, finishing the meal and clearing the table.
It was getting late, and they were ready to retire. Chris invited him for the
early next morning's early patrol, which he of course accepted. He and
Jessica got in their vehicle and drove back to their cabin. He noticed
several more vehicles had arrived, presumably bringing participants in the
next week's activities.
He and Jessica unpacked and prepared for bed, and after a shower and brushing
his teeth, he pulled on a T-shirt and pair of jeans and went out into the
common area of the cabin, intending only to say good night to Jessica. As he
did, she emerged from her room, wearing a pajama top and shorts.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I like it," he replied. "Seems to be plenty to keep us busy."
"Yeah," she said. "We're pretty serious about these training sessions, and we
try go get as much in as we can. We never really let ourselves forget what we're
up against, and will be eventually. The activity helps keep our minds occupied.
"You've been here a few times?" he asked.
"Enough that I don't remember, maybe a dozen or so."
"I noticed you're pretty familiar with Tracy and Chris, and the area, so I
guessed you'd been around some."
"We've become pretty close. They're good people, like everyone in the
organization is. We avoid anyone that could cause problems, even if they're
close to us, like relatives. Even a lot of the friends and relatives of the Nine don't know
anything about us."
"Is that nine with a capital n?" he asked. "Kind of like the name for a
circle of wizards..."
Jessica smiled.
"Somehow it seems fitting," she said.
"You read any fantasy, SF?"
"Not really. Chris does some, or did when we were younger. We're a little
busy these days, so we don't read for fun like we once did."
"My cellmate was reading a book when I left," he said. "Dune. You might have
seen or heard about the movies. Anyway, remembering that, I thought about the
scenarios in a lot of SF books, about how people in dystopian societies and don't
want to conform, survive."
"Yeah, I guess that would be a likely subject for writing about the future,
since societies seem inclined to go in that direction."
"Anyway, in Dune, there were these desert tribes who wouldn't submit to the
rulers of their planet, and hid in places deep in a desert where the rulers
could not easily find them. But just in case they did come after them, they
were also the deadliest fighters in the universe, and no one wanted to mess
with them. Makes me think of what we're doing, except we don't have a desert
to protect us, so we hide in plain sight. And hope that if it comes to it, we
are the better fighters."
"Sounds about like us," Jessica admitted. "And what we're doing now is working
at being the best fighters."
"But will we be as ruthless as we need to be?" he asked. "We're talking about,
in some cases perhaps, killing people who are not at the moment pointing guns
at us. Technically murder, or assassination, whatever. And if we can't do it,
we'll lose no matter how prepared we are, if things have gone too far before
we resist."
"That's something we talk about a lot. To some degree it will depend on what our
enemies do, whether there is any success in pushing the crisis point further out.
It's possible we can do things to accomplish that, by attacking the small players,
the pawns, now."
"What would that consist of?" Carter asked.
"Apparently the idea, and I'm not privy to these meetings - but Dad is - that
the activities going on at the lower levels, the riots in the big cities, as
well as some actions by state or local governments to violate the rights of
their citizens, could be countered by the same means they are using. Using
their own methods, only we don't have the government protecting us or the news
media conducting a propaganda campaign for us. So we have to be better at it."
"Any definite strategies?"
"Some, but how close we are I'm not sure. I know Dad is attending a council
meeting in a couple of weeks and that is to be one of the main topics. It
seems there is support for some probing attacks, to see what the possibilities
are. We would have to have the right opportunity, though."
"What sort of opportunity?"
"I know there are some who want to put together a strike forces that could be
inserted into an area on short notice, for example one of the riots that go on
for days or weeks. Our people would go in and neutralize some of the leaders
and inflict some serious pain on the participants, and see what happens. The
thing is, we would have to get in and out without having any of our people
captured... that is arrested, or identified and traced."
"Sounds like a good idea," said Carter. "How practical does it look?"
"Pretty good, apparently. It's largely a matter of logistics and the ability
go execute the operation. Logistics are no problem, it would be a matter of
preparation and execution. We are not, however, going to figure it out tonight.
I'm about ready for bed."
"Yeah, me too. Good night."