Chapter 79 -- ASYTLHJDUANTLUGSQ
The day was unusually warm for December. Carter was wearing a light poplin
windbreaker and was already warm after the short walk. Jessica stood beside
him, looking out over the expanse of cut-off cornstalks left after the harvest,
a light blanket of snow covering the ground between them. Both were silent,
as they often were on these walks. It was not that there was nothing to say
but that words were often superfluous to their companionship.
He looked down at her and sensing his gaze she turned to meet his eyes. After
a moment she leaned against him, slightly on her toes to put her lips to his.
After a few long moments they let go and looked back at the brown fields, and
she took his hand. He seemed to have put the past behind him, but she
wondered if he could ever be completely free. He hadn't had a bad dream since
the one just before the beginning of the campaign. But he seemed to have a
somewhat pensive air most of the time. He laughed readily enough when
something was amusing, and was always at ease in any company, but that sober
aspect was always present.
He had been through plenty though, she thought, before they met. They never
talked about prison - she assumed that if he wanted to he would bring it up,
and if he didn't it was because he didn't want to discuss it. In any case,
she thought, we've all got plenty to have doubts about. A lot of people had
died in the conflict, as it was now generally called, and they all had played
a part, even if they were never in combat. They had supplied explosives and
weapons for the sabotage teams, and the damage done with them had led to the
carnage in the cities.
"We have to weigh that against doing nothing," he had said when they talked
about it. "God will not hold us guiltless, Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, if we fail to act." And
while we don't know with certainty how involved he was in the assassination
attempt on Hitler, it would seem that he regarded it as necessary, and right."
It didn't make it easier, she thought. You could try to put the blame where
it belonged, but the nagging feelings of guilt remained. That is how you know,
he had told her. The guilt, even if misplaced, or because it is, means you
have a functioning conscience. The people who made this necessary had not a
shred of conscience in the entire group.
He was right, she knew. And perhaps in time she could find the peace she had
wanted for so long. And Carter too, because she suspected he harbored the
same doubts. The the best lack all conviction, as someone had said, while the
worst are full of passionate intensity. It was never more clear than it had
been in these times. She held his hand tightly, leaning against him, and he
put his arm around her shoulders. It was becoming colder.
"Dinner should be ready soon," he said. Dalton and Mary had recently returned,
as had her grandfather. Regular evening meals had been the rule recently, and
there seemed no immediate need to break the routine. Scott had returned to
his freehold, and James, being one of the beneficiaries of immunity dispensed
after the treaty, had resumed his original identity. As before, he and Tommy
were dating young local women, although St. Joseph was now local for them.
They sometimes joined the family dinners, although Jessica was not yet sure if
there was a regular one for either of them.
"Yeah," Jessica said. "We should get inside anyway."
Arms around each other's waists they walked back towards the house.
Dinner was as usual, featuring a ham whose donor had never seen the inside of
a building until it was time to become food. The war hadn't lasted long
enough to deplete the pantry with its supply of mostly homegrown foods from
the MacArthur or other freeholds. The cherry pie was made with cherries from
a grower in Michigan who was a League member.
Mary and Dalton were aware of the war and the part the MacArthur freehold had
played in it. In their view it was no different than if Donald, Jessica, and
the others had enlisted in the armed forces and gone abroad to combat a
foreign aggressor. The fate of the republic was at stake and they had done
what had to be done.
Gordon was happy to not only be home with family and friends again but with
the prospect of it being a long-lasting condition.
"You've given this old man peace for the years he has left," he said. "For
our children, and theirs, I hope it can last a long time."
After dinner they repaired to the command post, continuing their habit of
daily checks on the state of affairs. Thus far things were progressing as
they had hoped, with an amazingly small of resistance, at least on the surface.
Many of the wealthy who had, either through foolishness for the most part or
avarice and megalomania in others, supported the dismantling of the
constitution, now took the easier course at least gave lip service to the new
order. Without doubt many were already plotting to reverse it, but the damage
had been done.
As for the news media, once the new situation was explained, continued as
before. Which is to say, they read what was put in front of them and
continued to collect their pay. The endless analysis of course continued, and
Carter and his friends enjoyed their confusion, as the most essential
information was not forthcoming and would not be, given that the League
continued to be as secretive as ever, and the administration was not about to
reveal the truth.
It seemed that for the foreseeable future, the country would be a much better
place for almost everyone. There would be haggling over the attempted, more
of as time went on and the enemy regained courage. But much of the essential
work had already been done, and the patriots, whether organized in the League
or on their own, would resist attempts to stop it or roll it back. And the
specter of Black Friday would remain - the patriots would see to that as well.
They watched a few segments of the various news shows, occasionally commenting
or laughing at something that only they knew the meaning of. The attack on
the presidential compound was still being discussed regularly, and somehow the
name of Ishmael had made its way into the public discussion. Those in the
group of course knew of it as the conversations with the president had been
recorded and had spread through the leadership of the freeholds.
"I've been meaning to ask," Jessica said after the name came up in a news
segment, "who is Ishmael? Or are we allowed to know?"
"Of course," Donald replied. "No secrets there, at least. I wonder how it got out
to the public. I suspect it was General Anthony, for whatever reasons he
might have. Or one of the staff may have leaked it - come to think of it,
that is more probable. They can't resist any chance to be
important.
"As for who Ishmael is, he's William Garrison. You all trained at his
freehold at Silver Lake. One of the reasons I wanted you to go was to train
with his army, see what he had."
"The Ninjas and Rangers," Jessica said. "Am I right in guessing they were part
of Black Friday?"
"A fairly large part," Donald said. "He provided about a dozen of the squads,
and all hit their targets."
"They seemed quite competent," Carter said. "Probably the enemy doesn't
suspect things like that exist - Silver Lake and some of the others that have
such capable forces."
"The strength of the League," Donald said, "at the risk of seeming ironic, is in
its diversity. An often abused term, but in our case it is the diversity of
our backgrounds, our capabilities. We had squads which combined the stealth
of William's Ninjas with experience with explosives, for example. A few men
with explosives and incendiaries can do a lot of damage, as the enemy found,
but only if then can access the target, do the job and egress safely. And our
air transport service was invaluable.
"As long as our secrecy is preserved, something that is easier now that the
state surveillance capability is diminished, we can remain ready and continue
to grow. We'll be here, ready.
"The autonomous states, when that comes to be, will be a big help," Carter said.
"They can provide a friendlier environment, even less meddling and spying."
"Very likely," said Donald. "Already some of them, pending final settlement of
the conditions, are preparing to build militias of considerable capability.
The restructuring of the federal tax system will leave more money in the
autonomous states, while the ability to end the massive welfare spending will
leave even more. And as the wealth migrates to those states, you know how
that goes.
"And the freeholds will be here, a shadow force, ready to act if necessary."
"Unfortunately Missouri doesn't seem ready to follow that route," Jessica said.
"Too much of the idle population now to overcome. And as other states stop
supporting them, they'll migrate to the states that will."
"It doesn't look good," Donald agreed. "But if they have to learn the hard way,
so be it. Eventually, though, even they will have to face reality. The most
importance consequence of what we've done - besides saving the country from
ruin and restoring the constitution - is that we return to the roots of what
was intended by the constitution. The states must compete, and without the
government to take from the successful to support the unsuccessful, they'll
adapt. If may be a slow and painful process, but it will happen."
"Are we likely to leave?" Jessica asked.
"Possibly," said Donald, "if it goes that way. We don't want to give up
everything we've built here, but Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas - all are good
places if we have to start over. The main thing is keeping the country on
track, to give us, maybe, another two centuries."
"Jerry, would you like to go back to Arkansas?" she asked.
"I wouldn't mind," he said. "Just not to Little Rock."
A commercial for a new television series came on, one of the first they had
seen in weeks. The conflict had preempted all regular programming. They
watched and looked at each other.
"It looks like the cultural decay is being resumed." Jessica said. "I hope we
do get a couple of centuries, but not if some people can help it."