Distance, Chapter 50

50

Wednesday morning,

September Sixth

8:00 a.m.

Julie’s appointment with the family OB/GYN provided Doug an opportunity to check in with the FDA office via email from Fairfield, and hopefully get a better perspective of the world outside of the Farm. Doug would’ve preferred to stay for the appointment, but was shooed out of the office for an hour, with both of the ladies smiling.

The National Guard center had three civilian guards in full body armor, watching over the mostly empty facility.  Doug checked in with his Federal I.D., signed in on a digital pad and then had to use a thumbprint pad to gain access to one of the secure computer terminals. He wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of email, voice message and conflicting messages. He checked the emails in order, oldest-first, skipping over the departmental briefings, security memos and news summaries.

The first surprise was the replacement of Lorraine Bancroft with three new executive assistants.  Each had prepared what appeared to be a personal greeting; each greeting appeared to be jockeying for position or preference, as if the FDA were now a multi-level marketing scheme and each ‘Doug-level’ liaison was worth a certain number of points.

The next shock was a completely new itinerary and ‘encouragement’ to proceed with best time to the first location on the new itinerary, which was in the next email, abandoned in favor of a completely different strategy. 

The newer emails limited the travel, and then revoked it completely. The most recent emails directed Doug to return to Denver on September eleventh for meetings on the twelfth.

Doug skimmed the emails again quickly, seeing the pattern of confusion but sensing more.  Unlike his previous visit, the briefings, memos and news summaries were fully downloadable…which Doug thought was probably a breach in FDA security protocol. Doug weighed the risks, while fishing out a flash drive. He downloaded all of them for later reading.    As he completed the download, one of the assistants ‘pinged’ him for a video call. He authorized the call, and was greeted by an overly groomed late twenty something male. None of the names provided in the prior emails looked ‘male’. 

“Good morning, Mister Peterson. Sorry to disturb you are on vacation. I’m Britt Redmon, first assistant to the Secretary.” ‘First assistant my ass,’ Doug thought.

“Good morning. Just getting caught up on emails. Looks like things have been busy,” Doug said, not asking about Lorraine.

“They have, yes. You’ve by now seen your new itinerary, correct?” Redmon asked. Doug instantly disliked the man.

“There is a substantial reorganization coming to the Department, and to several other departments.  The Assistant Secretary and Under Secretary wanted to include you in the conversation, hence the meeting next week.”

“OK, fair enough. What about the production issues here in the Midwest? Are those issues magically resolved?” Doug said with some irritation.

“Oh, no. Those are just lower priorities at this time.  Given the fluidity of the security in that region, the Department does not believe that your prior assignment is worth the risk.”

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ Doug thought to himself, but forced himself to sit back in his chair as if surprised at the revelation. “Sorry. I didn’t really believe the news.  I should be able to get out of Des Moines on Monday for a Tuesday meeting.”

“Would you be in a position to receive any additional information from the Under Secretary prior to your return?” Redmon asked, looking at the camera over the tops of his overly thin glasses.

“No,” Doug replied flatly.  “This is my last trip into town before I come back on Monday.”

“Unfortunate,” Redmon replied with raised eyebrows.

“Such are current communications. I look forward to meeting you next week, Britt,” Doug said.

“That will have to wait. I will be in another location. Good day,” the ‘first assistant’ said before ending the videoconference.

Doug had about ten more minutes before he had to leave to pick up Julie.  In that time, he wrote his letter of resignation, effective September thirtieth, and sent it directly to the Secretary, bypassing the assistants, the Assistant Secretary and Under Secretary.  He cited the need to be close to Julie during the later months of her pregnancy, and wished the Department well.

“How’d everything go?” Doug asked as Julie and Cath climbed in the Jeep. He turned the radio down, after listening to the forecast…rain by evening.

“Couldn’t be better!” Julie said with a big smile as she kissed Doug. “Everything’s just fine.”

“And what did you do for entertainment?” Cath asked.

“I read a bunch of emails, departmental news and then resigned from the FDA.”

“WOW! Effective now?  Say yes,” Julie said definitively.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited to be married to someone unemployed,” Doug said. “September thirtieth.”

“Not soon enough,” Cath said. “And of Regent? When for them?”

“Soon as I can,” Doug said as he started the Jeep. 

“Remember to stop at Stefana’s before we leave town,” Julie said.  Stefana was a friend of the family who had a retail maternity shop before the collapse. The shop now ran on trades of all kinds. 

“Not a problem,” Doug said.

A few minutes later they arrived at the small storefront, sandwiched between closed franchised coffee and sandwich shops. Stefana Groesbeck’s family had leased the land to the national franchises and had built the three shops turnkey in exchange for a sizeable signing bonus and favorable terms over the lease.  With the closure of the franchise outlets, the property and penalties were paid to the family, more than covering the development cost.

“You stay put and we’ll be right back!” Julie said to Doug, now feeling like a chauffeur.  He noted that Cath took a file box into the store, which Doug figured was a front for a cell of the Weerstand.

Doug had not been invited to attend the meetings, held on three consecutive nights off the farm. He didn’t take offense at all—as he’d finally been cleared for night patrol.  In the distance, two nights before, Doug had been in a watchman’s location, a half-mile from the house.  The still night was interrupted by rifle and semi-automatic weapons fire…and not a single word was heard on any of the radio frequencies about it. 

It had been impossible to tell the range of the brief firefight; Doug wasn’t that experienced in such matters, and the fickle wind could’ve carried the sound for a very long way.  With no reports coming in from any of the farms, men from the Weerstand had to be hunting raiding parties.   The following morning, Arie took one of the small pickups from the farm, alone, and returned two hours later. Doug noticed that the bed of the pickup held a covered bundle of something that was missing when Arie returned.

The town was ‘quiet’ of course, with only a handful of shops of any kind open for trading, and Doug noted that each of them had someone nearby with a shotgun or rifle in plain sight.  On top of the hardware store, two men with rifles were positioned, and he noted that at least one other person had a large spotting scope atop the roof.  Most of the traffic in town was composed of bicycles with cargo trailers, although a few people rode in on horseback.  He turned up the radio to kill some time.

“…no idea what they’ve done. The shortages are everywhere, another unintended consequence of unending incremental regulation. Of course prices have been through the roof for years now, but as soon as stock becomes available, any ammunition not already in a pipeline to the Army or Homeland Security is snapped up in a frenzy that sharks would be proud of. It seems the only state left that has half a brain is Texas, now the home to ninety percent of firearms manufacturers in the country, and sixty percent of the ammunition manufacturers.”

‘You’ve visited the clue store,’ Doug thought of the talk show host.

“I don’t really see that changing any time soon, either, America. There are things going on in the East that demand our immediate action and the President is giving it lip service.  We’ve got thugs running around in packs and attacking entire towns from the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes! Little towns! Farms! Where’s the Federal response? Where the Hell is Homeland? It’s on you, my friends, because they’re covering their own asses. The Feds are sending ‘advisory teams’ to the states. Right. Like we need more people playing dictator and demanding our allegiance!  It’s on you to defend yourself and your family…but thanks to the actions of this creeping regulatory parasite we know as the Federal Government, a whole lot of you will be defending yourself with bird guns and revolvers and no more than a hundred rounds of ammunition of all kinds per address. You’re in violation of that? Federal implications. You defend yourself and are investigated by even your local cop? He is mandated to report any and all findings of firearms, ammunition, reloading equipment of any kind. Unregistered thirty-round mag in fifteen states? Jail time and forfeiture of assets, citizen.  If Officer Friendly doesn’t report you? Well, thanks to the latest National Defense Authorization Act, his jurisdiction can lose all Federal funding and HE can be investigated!”

“This guy’s on a roll,” Doug said aloud, wondering whom the host was.

“This is where we are, America.  This is what we’ve come to.  Too late to fix it within the framework of legislation, because the legislators threw you under the bus.  Re-read the first sentence of the Declaration of Independence my friends, and keep going from there. Then ask yourself honestly, are you are in any better shape NOW, than the Founders were as they contemplated revolution. Are you? Hell, no you’re not. In fact, you’re probably much worse off and you just don’t realize it.”

“Where’s your flash point? Where do you decide that you want the Constitution back? Is it after the thugs steal everything you’ve earned and built? Then you’re late—because they already have.  Your retirement funds were nationalized, remember? That 401K you worked so hard for? That investment account? That 529 plan you worked so hard to fund so that your kids could go to school? Remember when you could choose your own doctor, and decide for yourself if you wanted to buy insurance—or not? BAM—nationalized so that the Ponzi could continue. Remember when you could order ammunition and have it delivered? As much as you could afford? Remember walking into a gun shop and being able to walk out with a rifle? Or three? Remember those days? Remember folks who had licenses for Collectible and Antique firearms? They used to buy weapons and have them shipped to their houses!  That’s now a Federal prison sentence!  Mark my words: They’re going to come out with some cockamamie scam with rainbow colored money and start it all over again. If you get in their way, they’ll run you over—they’ll find a way to outspend you, wear you down, deny your God-given rights, deny your Federal train-wreck of a medical insurance program…and kill you by doing so.  This is how they plan to win. This is how they plan to wipe out opposition,” the host said as Julie and Cath opened the doors to the Jeep. Cath was carrying a different box that seemed heavier.

“Whatcha got on?” Julie asked.

“Some guy on fire,” Doug replied as the commentator continued. Cath answered.

“Rice. Danny Rice. He’s down in Hannibal,” Cath said, listening to the continuing monologue. “It’s too bad no one’s been listening to him. He’s been saying this for years.”

“It’s coming. It’s coming as sure as the sun will rise. There’s a real fine line between sovereign citizen and partisan. A real fine line.”

“Honey, you should be getting some sleep. You’re on watch at midnight,” Julie told Doug at half-past four. 

“I know. Almost done,” he said. “Arie’s up at six, right?”

“Yes, then on watch,” Julie said. Doug couldn’t get over how pretty she looked.  “Why?”

“I think he should read this. I’ll write a note for him.”

“If you’re not in bed in fifteen minutes, I’ll not be happy,” Julie said with eyebrows raised and chin lowered.

“I’ll be there,” Doug said with a little grin. She’d made him a light dinner that would be followed by ‘breakfast’ before he went on watch.

He was tired, but he plowed ahead, with just a few more pages to cover.  He’d been reading more than two hundred pages of briefings sent out to Federal administrators, succinctly covering news events, foreign and domestic, that could have an impact on Federal operations.  The distilled news briefs had been provided for decades to those in D.C., and now were produced and coordinated in all Federal zones in North America and in the handful of remaining overseas bases. 

The briefs clinically described ‘bandits’ robbing numerous local, state and Federal locations; first of food, later of other equipment; later still of people, thought to be held for ransom. No analysis or other commentary was made—the statements were reported for the analysis of the reader.

President Lambert’s coverage included meeting with families of two Medal of Honor winners from a battle in Monterrey; his looking forward to the Supreme Court ruling on a number of crucial issues in October; and a pending address to the full Congress—the first since January—on September fifteenth.  No mention of the Vice President or any Cabinet members was made.

In Mexico, the briefs described current efforts in ‘pacification’ in the most general terms, without unit descriptions of any kind or any enlightenment of how the war was progressing.

Throughout the review of the briefs and the FDA departmental memos, there was very little—perhaps only a hundred words—covering the New Republic.  For such a dramatic threat—even a small group of radicals—Doug could not understand why so little coverage was provided.  The dearth of crop production in the Midwest in a general Federal briefing covered eight hundred words, and that particular brief was an update of a monthly projection.

For threats of secession, there was virtually no ‘news’ to report.   Doug wrote Arie as much, posing the question for Arie’s consideration.

September Sixth

11:35 p.m.

Julie’s wind-up alarm clock sounded next to Doug’s head, and he gently extricated himself from the soundly sleeping mother-to-be, curled into him after some brief, intense lovemaking.  Doug hadn’t ever dreamed that sex with a pregnant Julie could be so…incredible. To the contrary, he’d expected to be ‘cut off’. To their mutual delight, he was quite wrong.

‘Breakfast’ included hot tea, hard boiled eggs, smoked ham and biscuits, retrieved from a sealed container that Maria had set aside for the night watch.  The tea was quite strong, brewed automatically on a timer, and he poured the thermos full, saving a cup for the meal.  Doug ate quickly and suited up in black, cloth-type raingear before heading out to the equipment shed for a pre-patrol briefing.  The rain was spattering into the windows despite the wide, covered porch.

The waterproof rain shell and overalls were made of some kind of soft cloth that shed water, remained quiet when rain hit it, and blended in well with the darkened watchmen’s positions.  Roeland called them Elven Cloaks.

Doug entered the blanketed vestibule in the equipment shed, and found Arie, his daughter Elisabeth and son Hendrik gathered around the radios. Hendrik and Arie’s watch wrapped up at midnight, and it was not customary for them to be anywhere but in the watchmen’s positions until relieved.

“What’s going on?” Doug asked.

“There’s an ambush about to be sprung. We didn’t want to be in the middle of it,” Hendrik replied. Doug noted that neither of them was wet from the rain.

“What about patrol? Watch?”

“Not tonight. The Weerstand is close,” Arie said. “Hendrik, show him on the map,” Arie said, listening to one of the headsets. Doug thought he heard someone on the radio speaking Dutch.  

Hendrik motioned Doug to a large map of the farm, marked with a coordinate grid that would normally correspond to GPS coordinates for nearly automated farming. With the loss of the GPS system and most communications satellites, the map was a bit of a relic.

“The Weerstand put out some information that we were having some storage issues here—implying that we had supplies at risk because we didn’t have enough men,” Hendrik explained.

“A trap? Here?”

“Sure. Good reason too,” Hendrik continued. “They came up from the south, through these farms that pulled back defensive and patrol lines. This is a funnel that they had to pass through,” he said, showing three and a half miles of woods and streams through a well-defined drainage, leading toward the Des Moines River.

“How many men?”

“Enemy count is one hundred thirty, more or less. They have boats at the river and men there.  When action starts here, they’ll go down too,” Hendrik said.

“Where is the target? I mean, where do you spring it?”

“Half mile south. The Gunder cattle barn.  The red one,” Hendrik said.

“The Weerstand is there?” Doug asked.

“No, just south of that in force. There are a few men there, to make it look like a soft target. If it goes as planned, most of the enemy will never reach the barn.”

“Hendrik, why wasn’t I told about this?”

“We didn’t know where they’d be striking or when. If they had picked another night, you’d be out in the far post, looking at black rain. They picked tonight, so tonight it is.”

“Where did they come from?” Doug asked.

“We’re not sure. If we catch some alive, we might be able to find out.”

Doug heard Arie say something firmly, that sounded like ‘Aanvallen’.

“What did he say?” Doug asked.

“Dutch. ‘Attack’.”  Hendrik replied.

Elisabeth took off her headphones and flipped on the speakers for all to hear.  As Doug had been instructed in this eventuality, the men in the field at this point were in charge to direct the battle. There was nothing to do now but to listen and wait. Six frequencies on each of the radios and scanners competed for attention. The enemy conveniently had a single unencrypted frequency; the Weerstand had eleven that were encrypted, covering various parts of the route from the Des Moines to the Gunder barn.   The fighting was over within fifteen minutes.

“All right then. It is over for now,” Arie said. “Douglas, you may proceed to Wilde boom,” the ‘wild tree’.

Doug knew that even with a large raiding party being wiped out, there could be stragglers or lone attackers, waiting for advantage.

“Thomas will be at the spring house soon,” Hendrik said. “He’ll be covering that side. Kurt is down with a fever.”

“Anything serious?” Doug asked.

“Too soon to tell. He didn’t get the flu in the spring, so we’ll have to wait and see,” Hendrik said, handing Doug his radio and his pack. Doug tucked the thermos into a pocket.

“We talk tomorrow, Douglas. Ja?” Arie asked. “This news of yours. Interesting.”

“For what it didn’t say and for what it did.”

Arie nodded without speaking, looking at the map of the farm. “You sound as if you are surprised that your government is lying to you. Surely you are not that naïve, Douglas.” 

Distance, Chapter 49

49

Saturday morning,

September Second

4:04 a.m.

Doug had volunteered for the two to six a.m. watch, but had been overruled from perimeter watch until Roeland, Peter and Hendrik could train him on procedures and the lay of the land.  Instead, he was tasked with listening to overnight patrol reports from the main farm and seven other adjacent farms in the alliance.  Each had their own frequencies; each had their own base station monitoring all of the others as well as numerous other pre-programmed frequencies in the region. Between the seven farms, nearly a thousand frequencies were scanned, covering many of the active ham radio bands; police, fire and emergency services from Des Moines to Cedar Rapids, into Illinois and well into Missouri.  Should any trouble arise on any of the local farms everyone on watch would know about it immediately.  If one farm needed assistance, all other farms stood ready to send reinforcements, while still maintaining their own defenses.

The system had been set up after an attack on a distant relatives’ farm outside of Monona, in northeastern Iowa.  A similar setup with communications had been in place, and when the call went out for aid, nearly all of the watchmen and reserves responded. The three other farms were then hit with multiple attacks—the first had been diversionary to assess defenses and to pin down those defenders while brute force overwhelmed the rest of the farms, stripped of defenses as part of the mutual aid response.  The survivors estimated the attacking force at more than a hundred men. The attackers then retreated in an orderly manner into Wisconsin.

The seven farms in the Segher alliance though, were just one cell of many. Word of any attack from any direction on any of the rural properties would rapidly spread. Relationships built between neighbors over generations of farming and marriage and business created the quilt of common bond throughout the region. 

An old, stained map had been pinned to the corkboard above the bank of radios in the equipment shed, not far from where Doug’s Jeep was parked.  The map had been marked with a bright orange highlighter, identifying areas that were ‘claimed’ by the New Republic. Most of Illinois lay within their claim, and it was possible that the raiding party from Wisconsin was part of this new threat. There were few States that agreed with—in public—the New Republic Declaration of Independence, but reports on shortwave spread like wildfire.  Many of the Northeastern states were supporting—covertly—this New Republic organization.  Already, refugees from these states were beginning to move West, and running low on fuel well short of their destinations.

Family farm operations across the region were a fraction of pre-Collapse in size, but diversity had increased dramatically.  With many of the corporate farms lying fallow for lack of fuel, seed and fertilizer, the smaller subsistence farms were wrapping up their summer harvests. Temperatures over the average Labor Day weekend were normally in the high seventies or eighties, with lows in the fifties at night.  This year however, the highs barely hit seventy, and nighttime temperatures hovered around forty degrees. The Federal weather prediction system had no explanation for the cooler temperatures, and no meaningful outlook for the coming fall and winter.

Arie however, knew early in the year that something was dramatically different, and doubled the production of cool-weather crops, while tightly minding the inventories of grains for both human and animal use, buying or trading for more as the season went on.

The extended family had been canning and dehydrating food from early June on, filling the storerooms at the main farm, Catharina and Tom’s new home, Peter and Molly’s place, and the rest of the families storerooms.  Root crops would be coming out of the ground within the next few weeks, and would again be distributed to various root cellars of the family. Winter squash would be stored intact; pressure canned, and dehydrated, Doug learned from Julie. Doug had little doubt that the Segher clan would make it through the winter in good shape, missing little in the way of store-bought foods.

Jake Segher’s workbench held the pile of electronics retrieved from the police station, and several neatly organized stations where the electronics that were transmitting were opened up for inspection. After opening up the shortwave transceiver case, a trip wire of some kind attached to the case shorted out the transmitting feature of the modified radio, Jake discovered to his irritation. He removed the non-factory parts and placed them in their own little copper box.  Using what he’d learned from the shortwave transceiver, Jake carefully examined the cable television box before cracking the case open.  The cable box, Jake discovered, had an independent power supply, RFID chip, wi-fi transmitter, a video feed, and a substantial flash-memory storage card—none of it factory installed, and none of the technology had anything in common with the parts removed from the shortwave. Additionally the cable box additions were completely hidden under the main cable TV circuit board, out of view of casual inspection.

After dinner the previous evening, Jake and Doug talked about Jake’s discoveries, as Doug removed the United States Government stickers from the Jeep with a heat gun and a razor blade.  Doug concluded that the equipment was all put in by Regent.  Jake however, concluded that the cable gear was too sophisticated for a private sector corporation, unless it was engaged in industrial espionage in a hostile location. 

“Why would they monitor their own staff with such sophistication?” he asked Doug.

“Because they trust no one,” Doug replied.

“Nonsense. You’re proof that you’re wrong. If they didn’t trust you, you’d be dead in a ditch someplace or fed to the pigs.”

“Point made,” Doug said with no small amount of shock. “Let me clarify. I believe there are factions within Regent that don’t trust anyone—that use whatever means necessary to get leverage over others.”

“OK. That does make sense, but I’m still not buying it. I think this stuff is Big Brother,” Jake replied.  “One way or the other, you’ll probably find out soon enough.  I seriously doubt they’ll like having this equipment out in the wild all on its lonesome.”

“They’ll come for it?”

“Pretty good chance of it, once you get back to civilization, assuming they still have assets afield.”

“I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Doug said.  Jake looked at Doug with unblinking eyes.

“Doug, you ever shoot anyone?”

Doug flinched a little involuntarily. “Yeah, actually. Several.”

“OK. Advice: Do not, if confronted by someone that could be Fed, get in the way--especially for something like this.  Assuming you go on this road trip for the FDA next week, do yourself a favor and just leave this thing in the Jeep. If you see someone breaking in to get it, let ‘em have it. I have no idea what’s on that flash card, or if there’s anything of value at all. But I do know that once that thing is in proximity to any one of a number of innocent-looking pieces of hardware on any number of telephone poles, it will receive a query from Someone, Somewhere, and it will answer.”

“Telephone poles?” Doug asked.

“You ever see a grey box on a telephone pole? Or maybe a drum-shaped thing on a post along a road? Or just one of those green or tan phone junction boxes at the side of some road?”

“Yeah, of course,” Doug replied.

“Those don’t just provide convenient places to connect wire ‘A’ to wire ‘B’; they haven’t for many years.”

“Oh,” Doug said, feeling stupid. “I had no idea.”

“Nearly no one does,” Jake said chuckling.  “All this talk about the Government adding cameras and watching people and all that over the past couple of years just makes me laugh. They’ve known for forty years everything you’ve said on the phone, every page you load on the internet, anyone you talk to, anything you write. People are up in arms two generations too late.”

As the stars in the eastern sky began to fade with the coming dawn, Doug’s quiet contemplation was destroyed with bursts of radio traffic from radio transmissions in the east.

Eighty miles away, between Peoria and Galesburg, Illinois, a probable raiding party was spotted by a deputy sheriff.  Word was immediately broadcast in that area to adjacent properties and their respective protection cells. Moments after that, the radio transmissions were jammed with reports of attacks from Springfield, Illinois to Moline, just across the Mississippi from Davenport, Iowa.

Doug was monitoring two frequencies in that area, and getting reports from the six other base stations in the Segher group on the dozen or so frequencies they were listening to.  Nothing was happening nearby, but protocol called for Doug to provide warning to those on watch, from references in a book that he was not exactly well versed in. He referred to his cheat-sheet, instead.

“One Peter Five Eight.  Repeat, One Peter Five Eight,” Doug said quietly into the microphone.

“One Six One Eight,” was the singular reply a few moments later.

Doug’s warning referred to the Bible verse, ‘Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.’   The reply was from the book of Matthew chapter sixteen, verse eighteen, ‘And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.’

The distance from the raiders to the Segher Farm and allied farms was not important at the moment.  All watchmen were on a heightened level of awareness for any potential raid from any direction. Should potential raiders be in the area, the watchmen would report back with the first part of Samuel, chapter seventeen, verse one, ‘Now the Philistines gathered together their armies to battle,’ at which point, Doug and the others manning the radios would relay for a general call-up of all armed men and women in the area.

The cheat sheet had a dozen numbers and their usage guidelines.  Doug would come to memorize them all.

The string of attacks in Illinois stayed on the east side of the Mississippi, but from what Doug could determine, there were at least twenty separate raids taking place simultaneously. It was impossible to tell though, how successful they were.

At the end of their shift, Doug gathered with Peter, Roeland and Hendrik, as the half-strength day shift, including Catharina’s husband Tom and his oldest, Colin, took up the rifles and fresh radios, and headed out to their observation posts.  Cath settled into the listener’s seat in front of the radios, and reviewed the notes that Doug had compiled. 

The many farms on the informal radio network had learned over the weeks and months that raiding parties had never attacked any farm in the few hours after sunrise. The admittedly-prejudiced consensus among many of the farm leaders was that the raiders were mostly city people, and it was just ‘too early’ for them.  As a result of these defined patterns, the Seghers and any of a hundred other farms reduced their guards and proceeded back to the business of farm operations in the early hours of the day. 

The clear, cold night had given way to increasing clouds moving in from the northwest and steady winds.  The four men coming off of the nightwatch all felt the first raindrops, softly at first, but steady by the time they reached the porch.

Doug ate a light breakfast without coffee, and planned to head to bed for a few minutes with Julie before she arose. Before he was able to leave the breakfast table though, Cath called to the house on one of the UHF radios used around the Farm.   Immediately it became clear that the ‘night raids’ weren’t following the predictable pattern. The ‘night shift’ hurried back to the equipment shed to get more information.

“What’s going on, Cath?” Roeland asked of his older sister as soon as they’d closed the door.

“Three more raids. Smaller attacking groups,” she replied, listening to the continuing reports while taking notes.

“Distance?” Peter asked.

“Salem. Hillsboro. Bonaparte,” Catharina replied.

Roeland explained the significance to Doug: Salem was less than ten miles from the Farm; Hillsboro eight miles; and Bonaparte a spare six miles away. They were too far from each other to be a single raiding party. All were small villages without permanent police presence.

“Size of the raiding parties?”  Hendrik asked.

“No more than a dozen. These are different though,” Cath said. “They’re taking people too, not just food or supplies.”

“What? Human trafficking?” Doug asked.

“They’re taking women,” Cath said flatly. “Use your imagination. Doug, would you take over these two?” she said, handing a slip of paper with two scanner ranges scrawled down. “I thought I heard another call, but it went dead before I could hear it. Then these came up.”

“Are all the other farms already on alert?” Hendrik asked.

“Yes,” Cath replied.

Doug picked up another headset and quickly set up the frequency ranges, and was instantly hit with the sound of gunfire. “Another one here,” Doug told them. “Not sure where yet.”

“Keep us informed. We’re going back out,” Peter said.  “Roel, aren’t you on duty today?” he asked, referring to Roeland’s deputy sheriff’s responsibilities.

“Not until noon. Twelve shift tonight,” he replied, meaning a twelve hour shift.

Doug waved to them to stop as he listened to the frantic voices.

“Charlie’s. They’re still at Charlie’s! We’ve got to get back across the bridge!” a very scared man yelled into the radio. Doug heard multiple rifles firing in the background.

“Too many! They’re flanking us!” another voice yelled.

“We’re coming. We’re on River Road one mile west,” a third voice said, trying to calm the first two.

“More on the River Road, half mile from the Eldon bridge,” a deep male voice reported, quietly. “Four vehicles. Two pickup trucks with men in the back, two light pickups with shooters in the back.”

“All right, that’s thirty plus,” another calm voice replied. “We can all see what they’ve got. Take out the drivers before they hit that bridge. First unit, push their dismounts from Seventh back to Ninth.  Second unit, push them back to the river. And get our people back.”

“They mentioned ‘Eldon’,” Doug said.  Hendrik walked up to the map and pointed to a river crossing and a small town, ten or twelve miles west and a little north of the Farm. He placed a red pin at that location, and at the towns that Cath had mentioned.

The radios went silent for a moment before several agonizing screams forced Doug to turn down the volume on what he’d determined to be the attackers’ radio frequency.  One of the attackers radios either had an open mic or he was activated by his voice.

“I’ve got both sides of this fight. Attackers and defenders!”  Doug flipped the speakers on both of the broadcasts. Catharina listened as well.

“Jesus, I’m hit! Someone help me! I…can’t breathe….” A man shrieked, before his voice transitioned to a wet, choking gurgle.

“Unit one, mop up on the west of the bridge,” one of the defending commanders directed.

“We’ve got dismounts fleeing to the south from the trucks. Pursue?”

“Wound them if they run and kill them if they shoot back, Unit Two,” the commander said with ice in his voice. “They’ve killed our people,” the man spat. “They killed them all.”

A few more minutes of gunfire was heard on the ‘attackers’ radio, with the panting of several men.

“Four prisoners,” one of the defenders said to his commander.

“Count of enemy dead,” the commander asked without inflection.

“Fourteen this side of the bridge.  Twenty six on the south side.”

“You find a leader?” the commander asked.

“Sorry sir, he took three rounds to the head.”

“Load them up and bring them all in,” was the reply. “Reserve Unit, police up the vehicles, weapons, ammunition and equipment.  Stage it as discussed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Damned efficient,” Roeland said. “I’m not sure who that is but I’d like to find out.”

“We need to get out to our positions,” Hendrik said. “Cath, are your radios…” she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“Yes. Still going,” she said, not raising her head.

Arie, Maria and Julie entered the equipment shed as Hendrik reached for the door.

“What’s going on?” Julie asked. Doug stopped for a moment and smiled at her, thinking to himself just how lucky he was to have found her.  Hendrik filled them in as Roeland and Peter picked up two matching AR-15’s and vests.  The Farm had eight identical rifles of the type, along with load-bearing vests with extra magazines, a pocket for one of the small tactical radios, and a chest-mounted holster for a .45 caliber handgun. Other contents of each vest included a map of the area, a pocket for a small first aid kit, and a packet of beef jerky, dried fruit and nuts.   Other watch equipment was contained in a small pack that each watchman took out to their assigned observation point.

The frequencies that Doug had been monitoring went quiet as the minutes passed. He assumed that the defenders in Eldon had completed their work, and were tending to their wounded and dead.

“Father, we need to talk with the Weerstand,” Cath told Arie.

“Why, child? What do you find?” he replied.

“These attackers. They come from nowhere. They come from within. They are already among these places. They did not travel from the east or the south, they sprung up from within.”

“How do you know this?”

“There were no vehicles involved until the attacks were well underway.  They came in afoot. Only after they had attacked did the vehicles arrive. The vehicles were used for retreat—to take what they had stolen.”

“They did this where?” Arie asked as Maria looked on sternly.

“Salem, Hillsboro and Bonaparte,” Cath replied.

“And probably Eldon. Same pattern,” Doug added, realizing what Cath was saying. “They must be moving in at night, or only moving at night.”

“There is something I do not understand though,” Catharina said, making marks on a small folded map. “In Bonaparte and Hillsboro, the trucks. They left behind some of their people. They left them to fight for themselves.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Julie said. “You don’t leave your people behind.”

Doug wondered. “Unless those people don’t matter to you.”

“What?” Julie asked.

“Were those men worth less than what or who they took?” Doug asked.

No one replied for many seconds. Maria finally answered. “People don’t do that. You bring your people home.”

“You are applying your belief system to people that do not necessarily believe in the same things, Maria,” Doug said, before turning to Cath. “Cath, was there heavy fighting in those cases?”

“No. That is what I found disturbing. There was little fighting at the end.  They just drove off. The people in Hillsboro then hunted down the stragglers. The others in Bonaparte are still chasing them.”

“Why this? Why now?” Julie asked.

“Something bigger’s going on,” Doug answered.  “Maybe part of this New Republic business. I don’t know.”

“We call the Weerstand immediately. Catharina, make the call,” Arie said with resignation.  “We will meet today. Here, for luncheon.”

Maria nodded and tugged Julie along back to the house. “We’ve work to do, now.”

“Arie, what can the Weerstand do?” Doug asked.

“We go hunting, Douglas. We do not wait to be preyed upon. The fight will come to them, and we will bring it.”

Doug leaned back in the chair for a moment before responding, considering what Arie had just said.  “Arie, the men I met…”

“Are far more capable than they might appear,” Arie replied before Doug could finish. “Do not underestimate their abilities based on your eyes, for they deceive you.”

“The men I met are farmers. Business owners…”

“Yes. They fight for their homes, their wives and children and brothers and sisters. There are men in the Weerstand that have fought for the United States, but remember there are also men who have fought in South Africa to defend their farms, and lost family and property and generations of heritage and ended up leaving that place. In the words of one, this is but a tactical challenge that can be met, matched, and defeated. Come now. There is much work to do,” Arie said, turning to the door.

“Cath, are you OK on the radios now?” Doug asked.

“Yes. Elisabeth will be here soon. She can help if things get busy.” 

“Catharina, please provide estimates on the locations of these raiders and where you think they’re heading, ja?”

“Yes, papa. Soon now.”

Doug and Arie walked on the brick pathway to the house as the rain picked up. “You good with a rifle, Douglas?”

“I’d regard myself as ‘adequate’. No more than that.”

“Jacob will spend some time with you in the small barn. He can hone your skills, ja?”

“That would be a good idea.”

“’Time grows short, along with our days’, my father once told me,” Arie said as they reached the house. “We must make good of them.” 

Distance, Chapter 48

48

Friday evening,

September First

The Segher Farm

Thursday’s activities in Fairfield had stretched late into the day, including a prolonged visit to the National Guard center to review the files sent him; and the review of the stolen goods after they were processed by the police department. Doug noted that the hard drives from the digital security recorders were missing, and mentioned this to the police.  Now, in the early evening of September First, he was happy to help clean one of the smaller barns and just think.

Julie, Maria and the balance of the Segher family women were finishing up a large-scale peach and apricot canning project at Peter and Molly’s house.  Doug asked Arie for something he could do alone and in peace, just to think. 

“Much on your mind, ya?” Arie replied, looking at Doug for a long moment. “I’ve just the place.”

The ‘small’ barn formerly housed sixty or so dairy cows, all sold off the previous year as the fourth official ‘recession’ in eight years began and the real collapse started. With the endless list of more important things on the farm needing attention, the clean out of this particular barn had waited, until today. Doug worked with minimal lighting, which allowed him a narrow focus for both his work and his mind.

The e-dispatches forwarded to him by his secretary were encrypted and only portable if sent to his government-provided laptop, or viewable as read-only at the nearly deserted Guard facility—‘print’ and ‘save’ functions had been disabled.  He hadn’t thought of bringing the laptop with him, and as a result spent more than three hours reading the background material and ‘position statements’ provided by Lorraine.

After reading the many files provided—from many other departments, not just Food and Drug—Doug’s opinion on the New Republic changed from the organization being a minor distraction to what seemed like a major debacle in the making.  From the President on down, the statements didn’t seem to take the New Republic voices or actions with a level of serious consideration—indeed, they were dismissed as dope-smoking Communist freeloaders at best; America-hating parasites at worst. When the ‘official’ communiqués were viewed in timeline-order, the initial dispatches were serious, mindful of the consequences, filled with carefully chosen words, and obviously were put together by people who’d thought out the problem.  The later dispatches in the stream of communications—even those allegedly written by a previously ‘thoughtful’ senior staff person—were shallow, name calling, sycophantic responses mirroring the opinions of close friends and political appointees of the President.  Almost universally, the Vice President’s staff rejected the position that the Administration was proposing, using very strong language.  Doug thought, as he closed the last file in the series, that either the Vice President would be asked to resign or that the ‘popular uprising’ as the FBI had called it, would spread in the face of no meaningful resistance. 

Doug’s specific orders remain unchanged, but now had increased urgency to ‘ensure regulatory safeguards remain in place.’   It seemed to him that the Federal Government was utterly unprepared for the level of popular opposition against cutbacks in Federal programs including pensions, Medicare and Medicaid, farm, technology and fuel subsidies.  These had now festered for months, after years of ‘austerity programs’ that had delayed scheduled cost-of-living increases and ‘mandated’ growth.  States, after cutbacks of Federal funding proved themselves unable to continue the uncounted mandated programs.  Millions of people ‘slipping through the safety net’ were now the constituency of the New Republic.  The currency devaluations, the elimination of recognizable currency—the former ‘nickel’, now being made from an alloy was one of the changes—all worked against the Federal Government and the shreds of remaining confidence.

Doug had met with Arie, Peter, Roeland and Maria and Julie over dinner, and provided them a look inside of the Federal Government that only a relative handful of people would hear of. None of what Doug said really came as a surprise, but there was seemingly a feeling of resignation about the path that the Nation was on.

Late into the night, Doug lay awake in the darkened bedroom, Julie soundly sleeping at his side.

Early Friday morning, they’d had been roused by Roeland, in his deputy sheriff uniform and body armor.

“Doug, you’re needed in Fairfield. Pronto,” Roeland said quietly. Julie slept soundly.

Shaking the fog from his head, Doug finally figured out where he was. “What?” he whispered.  Roeland motioned him to come out of the bedroom. It was near sunrise, he noted as he quietly closed the door. A beautiful, cloudless Iowa sky.

“Your suspect died overnight, according to my sources. The Fairfield P.D. has no idea why.  Might be a good idea to get up there and find out anything you can. Be a little proactive on it,” Roeland said, in effect saying, ‘eliminate yourself as a conspirator in his death.’ 

“Uh, was he alone? Did someone kill him?” Doug asked as they moved into the kitchen, where Maria had just started to make boterkoek—Dutch coffee cake.

“No idea.  Probably not a great idea for me to be asking around about it,” Roeland said. “Might be a good idea for you to get to town by say, seven-thirty or eight.”

“All right. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“That’s about all I know. Rumblings in the East, though. Lotta shortwave chatter about this New Republic bullcrap,” Roeland said, cleaning up his language in front of his mother.

“Today’s supposed to be their Independence Day,” Doug said to no one in particular.

“Yeah. But will there be a ‘shot heard round the world?’”

Doug dressed quietly, and kissed the snoozing Julie good morning, explaining the situation.  She was out of bed immediately.

“I’m going with you,” she stated flatly. Doug knew there wasn’t any point in trying to change her mind, and for that matter, figured that there wasn’t any reason to try.  Ten minutes later, they were in the Jeep and had cleared the front gate.

“Do you…think that Regent killed this guy?” Julie asked.

“’Rule one: Kill the killer’, I read somewhere. It’s too pat. Too convenient for him to die in police custody,” Doug said, touching one of the radio buttons to scan.  “I don’t know where anything’s going. Just when I start to think I know where I’m going, I get broadsided.”

“You’re off balance,” Julie said. “Maybe you’re being deliberately kept off balance.”

“Huh?” Doug said, puzzled.

“In my former life, I saw lots of gamesmanship where an employer would pit one employee against another, stir the pot, create some sort of controversy to hide his real intentions—keeping his staff low-paid. I saw the same thing where employees would kiss up to the boss in his presence, while looting the till through all kinds of creative means,” Julie said. “Most of the time, I could prove it, given time and authorization. Maybe you’re being played.”

Doug didn’t know what to say.

“What would be the motivation, you’re wondering,” Julie said, trying to get comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“Your ties to Des Moines are cut.  Your ties to Fairfield are cut. People you knew through Regent are dead. Who would stand to gain?” Julie asked.

“I don’t know,” Doug said, turning north toward Fairfield.

“Someone who wants you to go a different direction.  If they’d have wanted you dead, you’d be gone already. So someone sees you as an asset, not a liability. For now,” she said with ‘that tone’ of voice.

“For now,” Doug repeated, his mind now going a completely different direction.  Doug slowed as he drove through the little hamlet of Birmingham.  A few people looked at the FDA label on the side of the Jeep and scowled.

A few minutes later, Doug drove up the driveway to the wrecked house to show Julie the place.

“My God. You weren’t exaggerating,” she said.

“No, I was not,” Doug replied, turning the Jeep around, and heading back down the driveway.

Fairfield was a bit livelier than Birmingham, but just barely.  Virtually all of the marginal business enterprises had long since closed, leaving only those that really were ‘important’ to the public.  In the case of Fairfield, this meant a few grocery stores, hardware, hunting and farm supply stores, the library, machine and welding shops, clinics and second hand stores.  Franchises of national restaurants and retails had vanished, including their signs.   Barter was more common than either local scrip or ‘dollars’ or the rare precious-metals transaction, but trust weighed heavy in any transaction.   The Segher’s had schooled Doug on the evolution of the local economy over dinner, the night before.

Doug’s Government Jeep was viewed with suspicion as he drove through Fairfield…the FDA logo drawing many stares. 

“You should travel in something that doesn’t draw so much attention,” Julie said.

“Yeah.  The big Federal logo doesn’t really go with my outfit,” Doug replied, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m not kidding,” Julie said seriously.

“I’m not either,” Doug persisted. “The whole ‘For Official Business Only’ thing cramps my style,” he said, pulling into the police department.

Doug parked in the same spot, and he and Julie held hands as they entered the building.

“Officer Schwartz,” Doug said, introducing Julie. “This is my wife Julie.”

“Ma’am,” Schwartz said, looking at Julie over the top of his glasses.  “Mister Peterson, can you account for your whereabouts since you were here last?”

“He’s been at the farm, with my family.  Including Deputy Sheriff Roeland Segher,” Julie replied. Schwartz nodded and noted Julie’s statement.

“I understand that the suspect is dead?” Doug asked.

“Yeah.  Died in his cell last evening.  Window to the outside was penetrated, but we’re not sure by what. No visible wound on the body. No one heard a thing.”

“Have you identified him?”

“No.  State medical examiner should have the autopsy results back to us next week, unless there are drugs involved.  Takes quite a bit longer. You wanna pick up your property?” Schwartz asked. “Can’t prosecute the dead.”

“Uh, I guess I could,” Doug said.

“Gimme a few minutes and I’ll take you back to the Property Room.”

“Sure.”

Good to his word, Officer Schwartz summoned them down the hall after getting an even older man to cover the dispatch radios.

“You gonna be able to I.D. what’s yours out of this stuff?” he asked, looking at a clipboard. “There’s five pages of stuff inventoried here.”

“If I can’t, I won’t take it. As is, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with any of this in any regard,” Doug replied.

“Fair enough.  Here’s the checklist—just initial there in the left hand column that you’ve retrieved it.”

Twenty minutes later, Doug and Julie had finished loading five boxes into the back of the FDA Jeep and were headed back to the Farm.  Julie flipped on the radio in time to hear the last tones of the Emergency Broadcast Signal.

“This is the Voice of the New Republic, transmitting over the Emergency Broadcast System.  The New Republic has accessed this system for a special broadcast from Montauk, New York, where Senator Cynthia Blackburn and Representative David Abdul Muhsin.  Friends, I give you Cynthia Blackburn,” a game-show style male voice announced.

“What the Hell?” Doug asked.  He pulled to the side of the empty road to listen to the weak transmission.

“We are here on the dawn of a new day. This day brings us the promise of true social justice for the people, the end of a corrupt and collapsing regime geared only toward the profit of a few at the expense of the rest of us.

We are here to bring commonsense solutions to millions of people who have been disproportionately oppressed.  We are reaching out with a message of hope to those embattled masses.  Your fair share is coming.  The extremist right-wing leadership that has driven us into the ground will pass away, and we will rise to lead. We are not in denial that the mean spirited practices and outright domination practiced by the leaders of the United States of America is the best thing for this world. They are plainly not!  The violence that they’ve inflicted on millions must end. We mean to see that it happens now!

It is time for us to rise up, to throw off the shackles placed on us.  It is time for positive outcomes and shared values.  It is time for sound governance through protection of our environment.  It is time for proper taxation of corporations and individuals who choose to work outside the bounds of fairness. It is time that the burdens of unfair debt are thrown off, especially those placed on the young through the Federal Student Loan system. There are so many marginalized and underserved people in this nation that strive for a vibrant new community!  We call on you to help—to repurpose your lives and the lives of others to serve all in the struggle for equality and to work within the global community!  We will no longer tolerate corporations disenfranchising the worker--we will bring our demands to these corporations and see that they are satisfied. The globalist system has failed us; it is time for us to see that we don’t fail each other. We are taking this continent--we are remaking it! Their failed policies will no longer be tolerated and we have the power to end them and put in place new systems that recognize the value of the creative; that reward those in need and that benefit our culture! We declare our Independence.  Today is the day of the New Republic!”  Blackburn said, as thunderous applause rose.   

“And now, Representative Mushin,” the gameshow voice announced.

“On behalf of the many cultures here today, I thank you for your time,” Mushin began.

“We are here to create, not to destroy.  To unite, and not divide.  These are not just words, they are true commitments to equality for the most abled, and for the least. We are here to see that proper investments are made in the future of the people, that the emerging consensus of the past few months grows and thrives.  That we empower those around us and that we end the cycles of violence and poverty and division reinforced by the United States on the people of the world.  The New Republic is founded on these principles.  We are here to give voice.  We are here to listen.  We are here to grow support for those policies of fairness and investments in the future of our people.  Our nation’s children and indeed, the people of our nation live within and outside the physical borders of the United States of America, for our nation reaches beyond mere physical lines on maps.  We have brothers and sisters in Africa. In Europe. In the embattled Middle East.  We call on our brothers and sisters to join us.  It is a new day; it is our day!”

“Certainly full of themselves, aren’t they?” Julie said as more applause flooded the radio. Doug didn’t have a chance to answer.

“We are poised to…” the broadcast was terminated and static filled the airwaves. Doug punched the ‘scan’ button on the radio, and found all frequencies nothing but an even level of static.

“Big Brother didn’t like that show, it appears,” Doug said. “Let’s get home.”

“What do you think that means?” Julie asked.

“Civil war maybe? I don’t really know. What would this ‘New Republic’ use for an army? For weapons? It’s not like they can seize stuff laying around—most of it is in Mexico.”

“Have you heard of their…territories?” Julie asked. “Are they just in New England?”

“No, they’re spread out, but from what I know it’s not like they’re consolidating their areas of control,” Doug said, getting the Jeep back on the road. “One of my contacts with Regent said that the company was involved in, ‘efforts to distract and destabilize current leadership models’.  That tells me that they’re part of the New Republic.  Am I wrong?” he asked Julie. She sat there, unspeaking.

“Which means,” Doug continued, “that I’m an agent for someone that wants to overthrow the United States Government.”  A chill ran through him. He was on the same ‘side’ as those people on the radio. “Good God.”

“You have to get out. You have to get out of Regent and out of the FDA,” Julie said in pleading voice.  “You have to, Doug.”

“I know.  But I can’t just ‘not show up.’ I need to complete this assignment and resign.  Then we need to disappear,” he said, thinking about what that really meant.

“What will Regent do?” Julie said, reading his thoughts.

“I have no idea,” he said, lying.  He knew perfectly well.  They’d kill him.

They arrived at the Farm a half-hour later, and were immediately directed back into the equipment shed, and the giant metal cage within.  Jake Segher, dressed in coveralls, waved them inside.  He pulled the huge door closed behind them.

“Let’s see what they’ve done to your rig,” Jake said flatly.

“Who?” Julie asked.

“Oh, I dunno.  Just the global conspiracy.”

“Not funny, Jake,” she replied.

“Not really meant to be. Contact at any time means that something could be added to, or taken away from, your person or your vehicle. So we check to see,” Jake said, picking up some sort of hand-held scanner. “Big batch of stuff in the back. Yours?”

“These were stolen from my house up north.  A few things that belonged to the Kliest’s as well,” Doug said. “A half dozen radios.”

“All right, we’ll start with these then,” Jake said, opening up the hatch, and holding the scanner over the boxes. “Well, now,” he said, looking at a small LCD screen on the scanner. “Someone’s added a few cookies to your cookie jar.”

“What?”

“Something here is actively transmitting. Weak, but it’s there. Something else, here, too,” Jake said, brow furrowed.

“I don’t understand,” Doug said.

“Think of this as a rotating transmitter,” Jake said.  “Something in there answered back. Whatever is in there responded with a data stream when it was hit with the initiating frequency.”

“Can you…tell what was sent?” Julie asked.

“Not a chance in Hell,” Jake said. “Not without a supercomputer and the correct programming algorithm.” 

“Who’d have that kind of technology?”

“The National Security Agency, for one,” Jake said. “Doug, can you positively identify each piece of equipment here as yours or your neighbors?”

“Yeah, pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure won’t cut it. Positive ID is definitive.”

“I can ID 80% with certainty,” Doug replied, initially irritated but understanding what Jake was getting at.

“Dig out your stuff, put it on that bench over there.”

“Doug, I’m going to go inside. I’m late for my nap,” Julie said, yawning.

“I’ll let you know what we find,” he said, giving her a quick kiss and a hug.

Doug pulled out the electronics and placed them on the copper-covered workbench, where Jake immediately ensured they weren’t transmitting anything, or responding to any signal from his scanner. 

“That’s all of the stuff that I can ID as coming from my place.  The rest might be mine or Augie Kliest’s.”

“OK. One piece at a time, on the table to the left.”

Doug started with a ham radio that had belonged to Augie, a big Yaesu transceiver, the FT2000.  Jake scanned it as he moved it from the Jeep to the workbench.

“That’s one of them—it’s transmitting when hit with a certain freq,” Jake said.

Doug pulled out several other items, including digital video recorders, cameras, Internet routers and a laptop.  Nothing responded to Jake’s scanner. The last items were a pair of Sony AM radios and a cable TV box.

“Cable box.  Put it over there near the Yaesu. The Sony’s are clean.”

“What do we do now?” Doug asked.

“I do some surgery here and see what I can find.  You go take care of your better half and see if Arie needs any help. He’s working on a new woodshed out back of the house. There’s twelve cord of wood back there that needs to be stacked before the bad weather sets in.”

“Thanks, Jake.  I appreciate your expertise with this stuff. We’d never have known…”

“Most people have never known.  There’s more of this stuff out there than anyone realizes. And you’re quite welcome.  Anything I can do to put a wrench in the works, and I’ll do it.”

The late summer morning was growing hotter, but many of the leaves had already started to yellow with the coming of autumn, much earlier, Maria had said, than she’d ever seen.  Doug walked back toward the house, looking across the large garden, to the empty fields to the west.  Nothing had been planted in any of the fields, as far as he could see.

“Pretty bleak, ya?” Arie said, coming toward Doug.

“Yes, it is,” he replied.

“Fallow year.  Think of it as a fallow year.”

“Yeah, that’s the bright side,” Doug said, feeling a little depressed at the view.

“There’s another bright side.  There’s no food to be found for others to take.  So they go elsewhere.”

“Is that what you had planned? I mean, you and…the others. The Weerstand.”

Arie looked at Doug with a glint in his eye. “Some learn from history. Far too many don’t, are instead rewarded by death. We do not intend to be among the latter.  Come now. I have a hammer and nails and some tin that need your undivided.”