Southfork

Twin Falls turned out to be just another dying small town not quite close enough to the nearest metro area to profit from proximity. It had once had an airport but it had been closed years ago and air travel was now through the nearby regional airport situated between Twin Falls and Fairport.

"We bought the old Twin Falls airport," Lee had told me. I guessed that 'we' was some sort of organiztion.

I had flown with Wyatt a couple of times and was calm as he set the Piper Navajo down. The place looked deserted, like something from a post-apocalyptic movie. He had told me that the runway had been extended to accomodate the Learjet 60 used by a company that had once operated a factory there.

"We bought the factory too," he said. "It was the biggest employer here. Now it's one of those places."

I was beginning to see what 'those places' were and what the term meant. The Lower 48 as the U.S.A. excluding Alaska and Hawaii was called was something like three million square miles. No way to control it under the existing regime. China was somewhat bigger but with nowhere near the level of development. They could contol their populaton to a considerable degree - not so much here.

As we taxied to the terminal we passed a half-dozen crop dusters and two general aviation types, I couldn't identify the one helicopter. It was big and looked fairly new but so did the Piper I had arrived on and it was over forty years old. I suppose with the cost of aircraft of all kinds the owners find it worthwhile to take care of them. A small convoy awaited us and I walked with Cheryl and Mark to a limousine. Not one of those long fancy ones people rent for parties and weddings but a stretched Cadillac that looked like something from the 1960s. The aircraft I had arrived on was older than I and the car was even older.

I assumed that my luggage was being taken care of - everything else had been - and got in. Cheryl and Mark sat in the seat facing mine. The interior looked almost as new as the outside and felt like calfskin. Either that or a good imitation and somehow I didn't expect it would be.

"We'll get you settled in before any business," Mark said. "We operate out of the factory site off the main drag but no one lives there."

So far I hadn't had any bad vibes and wasn't getting any now. I felt as safe as I would back in my gated community back home. As with the other sites I had visited all the people I met had seemed to be quality people. So far I couldn't remember seeing a tattoo or piercing except for earrings on the women and not many of those. Cheryl was wearing them - asymmetrical dangles with a small stone at the end. Turquoise in on the left and jade on the right. She was dressed less casually than most in tan slacks and an emerald blouse. Western boots and a belt with turquoise and silver.

Mark was dressed as most men and a lot of women I had met - khaki pants and shirt, long sleeves and pocket flaps. Black Wellingtons and wide black belt with a plain buckle. Neither was visibly armed but several armed men were in the other cars. From what I had seen I wouldn't be surprised if both were concealing some small weapons - in fact I would be surprised if they weren't.

The convoy moved out, the road from the hilltop airport meandering down through woods for mile or so before any concentration of housing appeared. A small subdivision, houses scattered along the road. Another group of newer-looking houses. Several businesses - convenience stores with gas pumps, a six-unit strip mall that looked fairly new.

"When we moved in," Mark said, "the population of over 7,000 twenty years ago was down to just over a thousand. Real estate was cheap and we started buying it. Houses not worth fixing were demolished and the lots cleaned up, others were repaired. Most of the thousand or so original inhabitants are still here and occasionally new ones move in. We have around nine hundred people here and run what government there is. When half the population is ours it's easy to win elections."