Chapter 26 -- HUGWOZNSHUEZSS
Carter dumped the items from the small leather bag Jessica had handed him. A
driver's license, social security card, a credit card all bearing his new name.
There were a few other items, including an insurance card for the car he would
be using most of the time, auto club card, and a few others. A concealed
carry permit was among them.
His new name was Brian Stanley. Brian Charles Stanley, to be precise. The
other information was close to reality, he was a couple of years older but
everything else matched.
"You'll probably not be your old self again, unless there's a good reason to,"
Jessica said. "Your real identity will be maintained by our people who do that,
they have another credit card or two that they use to make occasional purchases,
and they'll take care of the bills on those as well. They keep all the data
in order - all you have to do is remember who you are. As little contact as
we have with regular society you aren't likely to be challenged, unless you
make contact with the authorities. And that won't normally happen until
operations are actually underway. And hopefully not even then."
Carter didn't know, and none of them knew, when that would be. If the
election turned out as expected, there would probably be increased pressure on
society at large, as there was no way the government was going to reverse the
dismal economic conditions - it just wasn't possible with their policies.
Continued inflation, increasing prices for everything, and more and more
people going into poverty.
One of the questions for the short term was that of the increasing numbers of
people who had lived with the ability to support themselves finding themselves
no longer to live on their earnings, and many of them becoming unemployed.
The welfare class would continue as before, but those being forced into it
wouldn't be happy about it.
"So," Carter said, "your dad's leaving, when, first of the week after the election?"
"Yeah," Jessica replied. "They'll want to observe the reaction before they meet.
We'll have a good picture of the future long before the average citizenry does.
So it's just a matter of knowing the results. In case something unexpected
does happen."
They both knew that was unlikely. More than unlikely. They probably wouldn't
even watch the news reports - there was really no point.
Carter replaced his identifying effects with the new ones and put the old ones
in the folder. Jessica went over to a wall safe and put them in.
"Now I know how James felt," he said. "What are we doing today?"
They had slept a little late, wanting just a few more minutes to feel like
things were normal. Lying in bed, silently watching the growing light outside,
finally getting up to start the day.
They would be at the farm for the next few weeks, waiting until Donald
returned from the Council meeting.
They went over to what Carter had started calling 'the big house' - the slang
expression for prison was sometimes used by rural southerners to refer to the
the main house on an estate where multiple parts of the extended family lived
in separated houses.
Jessica's father and grandfather were just finishing breakfast at the kitchen
table. Hearing them come in Mary came in from the cooking area.
"Let me get you some coffee," she said.
"That's all right," Jessica said. "Looks like there's some left."
She poured cups for them, and Mary took the now-empty pot away. Jessica had
adopted Carter's habit of drinking her coffee black, having previously always added
cream and sugar, she one day decided to try it his way.
"Careful," he had said the first time she poured a cup and lifted it to her lips.
"It's hotter without the cream."
He was too late, but she quickly noticed.
"Just blow on it a few times," he said, "and take a little sip each time until you can
stand it".
"That's nothing like what I was drinking," she said.
"That's what coffee tastes like," he said. "Hot, strong, a little bitter. It's
an honest taste. Wakes you up too."
"It's definitely different," she said. "You might say I never knew what coffee
actually tasted like - only coffee and cream and sugar. It isn't the same thing."
"Kind of like chocolate," Carter said. "The ground beans are bitter. A lot of
sugar has to be added to make it taste good. Ever taste any cocoa powder?"
"Probably not," she said.
"I probably wouldn't drink chocolate that way," he said. "But for some reason,
it works with coffee."
"It definitely wakes you up."
"What are you folks up to today?" Donald asked as he came in.
"Since it looks like we're sticking close to home for a while," Jessica said,
"we'll be doing the usual checks on the premises, get James acclimated some
more. We'll probably make some runs to Saint Joe, maybe down to KC. Give him
some practice being in public places, learn his way around. Of course he won't
be doing anything alone for quite a while, but he needs the practice."
"We haven't seen anything about him in the news lately," said Carter. "He's
well on his way to being forgotten. We'll have to get an updated license soon,
with a new photo. He's certainly no longer recognizable to the casual observer."
James had grown his hair considerably longer, not a difficult task since his
cop haircut had been very short, and he had added a modest mustache. The
longer hair was more versatile as well, making a scruffy look possible, to
blend with the lower level working class types. Tommy affected a similar look,
and his ability to appear to belong in such environments had been useful in
getting close to James when setting up his rescue.
Together with Tommy and James they made one of their regular inspections of
the farm. There was little traffic in the area and it was rare for an
outsider to venture onto the property. Still, for them there was no such
thing as being too careful.
The corn harvest was near. In a few days the farmers who rented the large
areas of cropland would arrive with harvesters and trucks, and with favorable
weather they would be gone in a few days.
After inspecting the estate they drove over to St. Joseph. It
would be an opportunity for James to begin learning about the area, and they
needed an occasional break. Even Jessica's father, busy with his work, took a
break occasionally to take his girlfriend over to Saint Joe or even spend a
weekend in Kansas City.
Tommy and James were in one of the Trailblazers while Jessica and Carter took
her Taurus. After the tour they stopped to eat at one of the numerous
pizza places. It was James' first time away from the farm outside of a couple
of trips into Chillicothe, and he seemed to be at ease with being in public.
Carter showed him his new driver's license.
"That's the new me," he said. "We're both in the same boat now, as far as
having to keep our story straight."
Conceivably facial recognition could detect James if he was being actively searched
for, but he was probably a relatively low priority. Certainly his present
appearance was not likely to be connected with his past. Of course, he would
never again be known by his former name among the freeholder community. In
fact, only those at the Sierra Verde would ever know who he had been.
After eating they headed back to the farm, arriving just at dusk. Tommy and
James went to their places, while Jessica and Carter went to her house. They
watched the news for a while before going to bed and learned nothing
especially useful. Another multiple killing in Chicago, which seemed to have
been a daily occurrence for quite a while now. Several other cities, the
usual suspects, reported one or more. And one cop killed.
"At least cops aren't getting hit as hard," Jessica said.
"Maybe they're getting smarter," said Carter. "Like that kid the other day,
came right out and said it on television. Of course the other side of is that
with the recruiting problems, the quality is declining. We always had
incompetents, the corrupt ones, the ones with mental problems. But they were
a minority, and usually got thrown out before they caused too much trouble.
Not they're coming in in greater numbers. Who with half a brain is going to
do it?"
The crime news gotten the top spot, then it was politics. The attempt
on senate candidate McCormick was the main attraction. The usual train of
pundits and experts took their turn on the split screen beside the attractive
young blonde anchor.
Apparently the sniper's nest had not been located, not that it would help them
much. The confederate who facilitated access to the area was one of their own,
embedded in the community for that purpose. His connection with a the
security company responsible for the site made it easy for him to allow access
at the right times. Even if the investigators eventually worked out the
path of the bullet, finding the firing location would still be difficult.
Another expert correctly identified the weapon used as one of the more
powerful .30 caliber rifles in the family that included the .300 Winchester
Magnum that Carter had used, but did not speculate on the rifle itself.
Further examination of the bullet might yield some clues.
The socio-political angle was expounded upon by another guest Carter had never
heard of and guessed that most watchers would not remember once he left the
screen. He predictably hit the usual points of anti-government, mentally ill
misfit, and of course white supremacist. With some prompting from the anchor
he explored the white supremacist angle a little more before being dismissed.
Carter wondered about the fixation on white supremacists, given the miniscule
numbers in existence.
"Well," said Jessica, "it's unlikely anyone would ever encounter one, there are
so few of them, they might as well not exist for most people, except as an
idea planted in their minds.
"And the few that do exist aren't going go show up to object, I suppose."
Next up a doctor speculated on McCormick's prognosis. Apparently there was
considerable damage to the left hip and upper right thigh, among other things.
He was likely to be able to walk again, perhaps with crutches.
"I'd have liked him better in a wheelchair," Carter said. "Of course, in the
end he still may not escape."
A campaign aide came on to confirm that the soon-to-be senator was resting
well and in good spirits and eagerly anticipating the election.
"Should get some sympathy votes, as if he needed them," Carter said.
The polls were showing him with a slight lead, which would probably be much
bigger by time it was over.
"Well," Jessica said, "things are going just about the way we expected. By the
end of next year, we'll probably have a good picture of what this is leading to,
and I don't expect it to be pretty."
Later, they lay awake for a while, wanting to sleep but unable to allay the disquiet they
felt. It seemed that the only thing worse than the course they had chosen
would have been not choosing it.