Crashed: The Death Of The Dollar (8 page)

“
Our government is just individuals trying to do what they believe is best, with an impossible burden on their shoulders with each decision they make and order they give. They have not set out to oppress our natural freedom. Their goals are noble. They seek to be sure we've all got the food, shelter, and medical care that we need to survive. To protect us from those who would do us harm. To seek justice for those who have hurt us. They are individuals. Human beings, just as free, and just as flawed, as the rest of us. While trying to serve the needs of many, they enslaved us all. Becoming slaves themselves to a system that was impossible to maintain.

“What we all fail to remember is, that they want someone to love them, and someone to love, just as we each seek to love and be loved. And what they've each failed to consider is that while they follow their orders to oppress us and our loved ones, someone else has been ordered to oppress, and maybe even kill, those whom they love.

“This may not be the message you all want to hear. But it is a message of truth. We were all born free, and we are all now oppressed. Reclaim your freedom, but seek freedom through peace.”

Mike paused, and looked up at a plaque he had on the wall. It was the same plaque he had hanging above his bed, and it's words meant more now to him than they ever had. He began to read:

"He that would make his own liberty secure must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself. - Thomas Paine, First Principles of Government. 1795."

And with that closing, Mike clicked the stop button on his computer screen. Jessica quickly leaned over to hug him tightly. "That was perfect," she assured him.

He set about typing on the computer for a few moments. "There. That will broadcast the intro and message at the top of the hour, every hour, on a random AM frequency each time.”

They finished up their soup together and started the long walk home. When they got back, the others were quite curious about what they'd been up to.

"Did you do a broadcast?" Taylor asked eagerly.

He didn't respond, but noticed Jessica shake her head, with a facial expression that let them know yes he did, but he didn't want to talk about it.

Everyone but Mike was huddled around the radio an hour later. He could feel in his bones that a storm was on the way, but was determined enough to avoid hearing his own voice on the radio to be out splitting firewood. They already had more than enough wood for the coming winter. Especially since all they'd gathered for the other house wasn't needed anymore. But it was a good way to let off some stress and stay away from the radio.

Mike had split nearly a full cord of wood and was sitting to rest on a stump when Brad came outside to help stack it. He walked up and patted Mike on the back with a big smile across his face. Mike told him not to worry about stacking the wood for now, that they could tend to it later. Brad gave him a long hug. "Daddy, are you famous?" he asked with a childish innocence.

"I sure hope not son. Dear God, I hope not," Mike told him.

Brad squeezed him tight, then went back inside. Mike just continued to sit there.

After about twenty minutes or so, Taylor came out. "Brought your coat. Should I try to find a tent and sleeping bag, too?" she joked.

"Thank you," he said, as he put his coat on.

"This is all really eating at you huh?" she asked.

"I dunno. I don't really want to be involved. We've got a good life up here, and now expecting a baby next spring. I just like things as they are."

"So us moving in isn't the problem then?”

Mike was taken back by the question. "Hell no. Absolutely not. I love you. I love all of you."

"Damn,"
Mike thought to himself.
"She throws me off guard and I'm finally able to say it."

He looked at Taylor. Her face was flushed with her cheeks all red. Her eyes glistening as she held back tears. "I know you do. We all know you do," she struggled to say as she hugged him.

She tried to compose herself before getting up to go back inside. "Look, why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll bring you a change of clothes. Maybe we can all play a game tonight or something. Try to get back to normal, whatever that is. Okay?"

Chapter 6

Making Sense of it All

It didn't last long, but Mike thoroughly enjoyed a few days of normalcy. Or at least his new normal with the four others now living with him. It had been five days since his broadcast began. He still hadn't listened to it, and still didn't want to. He was finally ready to listen to some other news though. They all were. He searched FM, since his own broadcast was set to go out over AM only, and tuned in to a man's voice.

"Rabble Rouser here again folks," the voice said. Mike just rolled his eyes. "Folks, my friend, Resistance General, Thomas Paine, gave us his first broadcast just a few days ago, and it has gone viral."

"Son of a bitch! This little bastard. Who does he think he is?" Mike didn't know who this man was. But the label of “Resistance General” is what really bothered him. Being identified like that could really draw in attention that he did not want.

"Before I play it again for you, I wanted to share that the prerecorded message from General Paine appears to be getting played nationwide by pirate radio stations like this one. And rumor has it that NANN is actually going to report on him tonight. That's right. The government's personal propaganda agency is rumored to be planning a report on General Paine and his message of freedom. I'll be tuning in, and if the rumors are true, recording it so I can replay it right here for any who miss it. For now, here again is Resistance General Thomas Paine..."

Mike quickly turned the radio off. He was in disbelief. Why in the world would his broadcast be hijacked and replayed he wondered?

"People want some inspirational call to arms, and I gave them a call for peace and understanding. This doesn't make any sense."

"Why don't we just turn on the real news?" suggested Taylor. "If they're supposed to report on you tonight, you should at least be able to hear other things for now."

"I like that idea," Jessica encouraged. "Turn it on, Mike."

So he tuned into NANN. "What the hell. We've not listened to the propaganda station of the nanny state in a while," he reasoned.

"… many of the gangs and terrorists who were launching attacks against American freedom two weeks ago are quickly backing down. In what seems to have started out of Las Vegas, a nationwide structure appears to be taking shape under what may well be just a single man. We'll have more on that tonight. But for now, as law and order begin returning to our streets, I do believe we can all enjoy a sigh of relief and the peace of mind that terrorist attacks appear to be over for now,"

Mike got up and walked out. He didn't care to listen to any more.
"Resistance General? Terrorist?"
He though to himself over and over.
He didn't feel like walking the entire way, so he got in his truck and drove out to the flat a hundred yards from the cave. He was shutting his broadcast down. All this was making him too nervous for his own safety, and his family.

Stacy was out looking for him as he came back. "You shut it down, didn't you?" she shouted across the yard to him.

"Not like it matters. Didn't you hear that lying little shit earlier? It's been recorded, and shared over and over," he fired back.

"Well, wasn't that kind of the idea?"

"I don't know what the hell the idea was. It just... I... dammit. I just don't know right now how comfortable I am with this."

"Hey," Stacy grabbed his hands. "Calm down. This is me you're talking to. We're going to be fine. Don't make any emotional decisions right now. Just put this out of your mind for now. We'll see what they say on the news tonight. And whatever decision you make from there, you'll have our total support." She moved her head around to make him look her in the eyes, then gave him a quick kiss before pulling his hands to get him back inside.

Just before they got to the door, Brad came out with the modified, hand-held two-way radio. "It's for you, Daddy," he said. Mike paused for a moment, and just before hearing a voice, remembered that he'd given the Bishop the other radio.

"Can you hear me? One for yes, two no." Bishop Christensen called out.

Mike returned a single beep.

"I'm not going to use names or places. But can we meet tomorrow at 11 am?"

Beep. Beep.

"Can you meet earlier?"

Beep.

"Would  9 am be good? That's the earliest I can make it."

Beep.

"See you then."

That was the first time the Bishop had contacted them on the radio since he gave it to him. "I wonder what he wants?" Stacy wondered out loud.

"I'm praying it's just to give Jess her maternity clothes," Mike replied.

"Me too! I'm about to have to start wearing bed sheets soon if not. These pants are squeezing the hell out of me," said Jessica.

They spent the rest of the day working on sharpening knives and the blades of their meat grinder. Mike and Brad cleaned the hooks and frame of a hanging rack he'd built for butchering animals, and then got out all the guns for cleaning. It was that time of year. Hunting season. It was staying cold enough outside to keep the carcasses nicely cooled so they could age without going bad, but wasn't yet dropping low enough to freeze them.

He spent every October harvesting their meat for the next year. Stacy still couldn't bring herself to do it after six years up there, offering to make up for her lack of help by doing everyone's cooking, cleaning, laundry, or whatever was asked for. She'd do pretty much anything to avoid handling the animals until they looked more like what she might get at a grocery store or meat market.

That night, Taylor asked if they were all going down to meet the Bishop.

"Yeah, I think so. It'd do us all some good to get out for little bit. And I'm probably going to need all of you to keep me from wanting to strangle Captain Smiley," Mike told them.

"No kidding," Jessica chimed in. "The way your attitude has been lately, that man is bound to make you lose your temper again."

Mike felt bad about that, but she was right. He had been very temperamental for much of the last week and a half. "I know. And I'm sorry," he said. "I hope you all know that none of it has anything to do with any of you, or y'all moving in," he then looked at Jessica intently "and it certainly isn't because of the baby."

"I know that!" she insisted. "It's all this silly nonsense with the Bishop, food drops and radio."

"Give us a little credit here, Mike," Stacy threw in. "We know you well enough to know what's going on."

"Um, excuse me" came the quietest voice at the table. "I think I should stay home while you all -"

"Absolutely not!" Jessica cut him off like it was a reflex answer to that question.

Mike sat quiet for a moment. He'd never challenged Jessica's decisions with Brad before, but figured he had the right to do so, and right now the boy needed some backup. "Why not?" he asked her.

He had seen that look before. Jessica had never used it on him, but he'd seen that glare and knew what it meant. It was her "Don't question me, and don't speak again," look that Taylor had received frequently in her early teens. He didn't know if he was being more daring or more dumb than the other three sitting there, who'd all received that glare at some point. But unlike them, he was going to continue speaking. "I said why not?"

Taylor looked almost scared as she grabbed Brad by the hand to lead him away. She'd never heard any one say something after Jessica had given them that glare, and wasn't eager to see how she'd respond. Stacy tried to cover her smile as she held in a laugh. She was going to enjoy this.

"I said no," Jessica glared again at Mike.

"What are -"

"NO!" she said more loudly and firmly.

Mike was, in a twisted sort of way, enjoying himself. "That boy knows how to do every damn thing on this ranch, and does it all daily." Mike matched Jessica by dropping his voice a few octaves and speaking up. "He rides his bike out into the woods almost every day without us there. He'll be ten in a month, and I see no reason he can't stick around the house for a few hours without us."

She hated it, but Mike was right. She just sat back in her chair, glaring at him.

"He's got a point," Stacy chimed in. "Brad can handle himself out here better than most adults could."

"Shut up, Stacy," Jessica snapped. "I'm his mother."

"Am I not his dad now?" Mike asked.

Jessica suddenly realized that she had wanted Mike to be Brad's dad for years. She'd gladly let him have that role in every way except deciding when Brad was or wasn't ready for new things as he got older. And Stacy, who'd been by their side every day since his birth, had always been like a second mom. Jessica had even said before that he was lucky to have two moms who loved him so much.

As her anger gave way to guilt, she said "Okay" and got up from the table and headed out to the porch with Taylor and Brad.

Stacy started crying as soon as Jessica closed the door. Mike always felt weird when they got emotional about anything, but he'd gotten pretty decent at handling it, he thought. He walked around the table and held her in his arms for a minute.

"I wish I could be a mom," she mumbled into his shoulder.

Mike kissed her forehead and pulled her head back to look her in the eyes. "You are. And you're a damn good one. Everyone here knows that." He squeezed her again.

"I need to clean up in here," she said, trying to compose herself.

"Don't worry about that. One of us will get it." he said, hoping that meant anyone but him.

Stacy nodded her head and went to lay down on his bed. He went and told the others they needed to come back in. As Jessica walked past, trying not to look at him, he stopped her. "You crossed a line you shouldn't have," he said as he nodded towards where Stacy was laying down. Looking very sad and guilty, she apologized to Mike and went to do the same with Stacy.

The next morning everyone but Brad piled up in Stacy's Suburban and headed down the mountain. Just a few miles short of their meet up location, where the Bishop had been camping when they met, they suddenly heard a loud rumble coming from under the truck. "Ah, dammit!" Mike groaned.

"What's that noise?" Stacy wanted to know what was wrong with her vehicle.

"Flat tire," he said as he hoped out.

She quickly joined him. "I hope my spare is good."

"It is."

"So can we fix the tire?"

He shook his head. "Nope. The sidewall blew out."

They got the spare on and he walked around to check the rest of the tires. "We need to get you all new tires. These things are worn out."

"What about that stack of tires by the shop in the barn?" she asked.

"They're all for 16 inch wheels. You've got 15's. They'll fit every truck we have but this one."

They were late, but finally got down to where Bishop Christensen was waiting for them with his wife. The Bishop was elated as he walked quickly to greet Mike with a hug. Somewhat reflexively, Mike grabbed his arm, spun it behind his back, and dead-legged him as he pushed his face into the hood of the Suburban.

"Bishop, four people are allowed to touch me. You're not one of them," Mike said angrily as Taylor and Jessica pulled him back.

Stacy helped the Bishop up. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" she said.

Bishop Christensen spoke up quickly. "No, no. I had that coming. Tom, I'm sorry. I'm just excited, and wasn't thinking,"

Jessica was standing behind Mike, between him and the Bishop.

Taylor was hugging Mike, with her forehead against his, trying to calm him down.

"Oh, you're such an ass," she whispered to him with a big grin. "I wanted to hit him first," she continued in an even softer whisper. That got Mike to give a slight grin.

"He's not smiling now!" she laughed.

Jessica turned around to check on Mike. "Are you ready to behave?"

He just gave her a blank stare.

"Do I have to bribe you into not beating the man to death?" She smiled.

Taylor had already calmed him down, but he wanted to see where this was going.

"Remember your birthday?" she continued. He started to open his mouth, but she continued before he could say anything. "Maybe we can arrange a repeat if you can play nicely."