CRASHED

The Death Of The Dollar

by William Cooper

Grumpy Hermit Media

Crashed: The Death Of The Dollar

Copyright © 2013 William Cooper

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher,

Table of Contents

1  Unwanted neighbors

2   The Crash

3   Friends become family

4   Reaching Out

5   Reluctant Leader

6   Making Sense Of It All

7   Trespassers

8   Fighting to Live

9   Preparing for the worst

10   Three Powers

11   Organized Resistance

12   Surveillance & Strategy

13   Death & Life

14   Justice & Liberty

15   Reorganizing

16   Heavy Heart

17   Escalation

18   Crushed

Chapter 1

Unwanted Neighbors

Mike was very slow to warm up to the ladies and boy living on his mountain. He had that mountain to himself for five years, and right in the middle of it, they managed to buy the only 40 acre parcel he didn't own. He had 2,940 acres, and just half a mile from his home, they put up a home of their own.

Eleven years ago, he decided to vanish from society and live isolated and self-sufficient. Under the false name of Mike Williams, he participated in a tax auction for land in Utah, starting with 120 acres picked up for only two thousand dollars. It was remote mountain land, forty miles from the nearest power line and ten miles from the nearest neighbor, which was only a seasonal hunting cabin. He withdrew his entire bank account, in cash, and took off for his new home. Leaving his cell phone in a trash can, he didn’t even  call his work to say he was quitting. He just left.

Mike had watched through his binoculars in shock as three women and a little kid started showing up daily. He couldn't see well, but it looked like two were about his age, a younger one, maybe in her early twenties, and a little boy, he'd guessed around three or four years old. Their second week of visits to their property, they brought construction crews. He was pissed. Most people who bought land up in these mountains did so thinking they'd one day make the leap, only to give up on the land. That's when he would buy it up, often for next to nothing at tax auctions.

Before the ladies and boy moved in, only one person somewhat knew him. Phillip Brown, an old rancher who Mike had an arrangement with to sell his livestock twice a year. And all Phillip really knew about him was that some reclusive man with a nice gun range had sheep, cattle, and goats ready for market every spring and fall.

While he watched them, they also looked frequently up at his place, wondering about the “mountain man” the county recorder had warned them would be less than welcoming of his new neighbors. Jessica was the first to notice him through her own binoculars, telling Stacy they'd just moved in next to Paul Bunyan. Stacy spent the most time watching him, when she wasn't flirting with the construction workers.

They spent the summer having their house built, and the fall trying to get ready for winter. He watched from a distance, mocking their ill-prepared efforts to harvest the wood they'd need to keep warm using just an ax and hatchet. He wondered why they weren't buying a chainsaw. After the first snowfall, he started to worry about them. He told himself that he was just concerned the boy would freeze because of these ignorant city women, and that he didn't want them trying to come stay warm at his place when they realized they were failures. Either was a sufficient excuse for him to load up three cords of logs in his trailer one day. He waited to deliver the wood until he saw them leave, as they frequently did, hoping to avoid having to talk to the women he saw as intruders. That night he watched as they returned home. "Damn, they are trying, at least," he said to himself, seeing them with a snowmobile in the truck.

His attempt to avoid them didn't go quite as well as planned. The next morning Jessica made the long walk up the hill to Mike's house. He saw her coming, but kept busy doing maintenance on his truck. She was the shortest of the women. With a slightly stocky build, she had light red hair, green eyes, and fair skin.

Mike was a little bit nervous. His only interaction with women since he moved there was never more than a cashier during his trips in to town, once or twice a year. And even that was nothing more than silently handing her whatever money he owed. He hadn't actually spoken to a woman in years, and now one he thought was quite pretty was walking up in his yard.

Jessica was startled, seeing him outside as she approached. She too was hoping to avoid meeting him, carrying a note she planned on sticking to his door. “Um, hello,” she said.

Mike was under his truck and gave no indication he heard her.

“Excuse me,” she tried again.

He came out from under his truck. Not to respond to her, but because he was done draining the oil. He stood and looked briefly at her standing there, and then got back to work without saying a word.

“I was really surprised to see all that wood there when we got home last night. Thank you.”

He continued about his business, ignoring her. She was starting to wonder if he was deaf, so she held the note out for him. He glanced at it, then at her, and nodded as he went to start his truck.

"Okay, well, I guess I better get back home," she said awkwardly. "I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other now that we're neighbors." That was the last thing he wanted.

That night, Stacy wanted to try breaking through to the neighbor Jessica had described as “cold and quiet.” She and Taylor drove  up with some homemade soup, bread, and pie they'd made that day. He tried to be a little courteous, but his discontentment towards them for becoming his neighbors was very apparent. He opened his door before they had a chance to knock, very unhappy to have uninvited guests twice in the same day. He just stared at them standing on his porch.

The older of the pair was Stacy. He had watched her more during the summer than all of the others combined, wondering why someone so beautiful was building a house in the mountains instead of posing for some magazine. She was almost six feet tall with dark brown eyes and strawberry blond hair. All summer long he'd watched her strutting around in small and revealing outfits to flaunt herself in front of the construction workers.

Now that he could see her up close, Mike could tell the younger lady, Taylor, was quite a bit younger than he had originally guessed from a distance. She was a pretty girl, with long platinum hair and ice-blue eyes. She had a young and innocent glow about her face that contrasted sharply with a more mature looking figure, similar to that of Stacy's.

“Hi, I'm Stacy, and this is Taylor,” she nervously introduced herself.

“Hello,” Taylor added politely.

His only response was a blank stare.

“I know you met Jessica earlier, and we just wanted to introduce ourselves and bring you some food we made,” Stacy said, sounding somewhat disappointed. She could smell the dinner he had already cooked for himself.

He didn't know what to say. He was curious, angry, and thankful, all at the same time. Not able to bring himself to say anything, he nodded politely as he accepted the food, then shut the door on them.

Even after getting to know each other over the past six years, the ladies all still teased Mike about how scary they had first found him to be. He stood at six foot, four inches tall with a very large frame, and a thick stature built by the years of hard labor on his ranch. The last time he had shaved or had his hair cut he still lived in Florida. The long dirty blond hair and beard that was at first scary to them now made him even more of a big teddy bear in their eyes.

Taylor had a unique relationship with Mike. Though twelve years younger than him, she had been the first to break through to their quiet new neighbor early in their first winter on the mountain. They were making their first attempt at slaughtering a lamb they’d purchased, and had no idea what to do. Jessica wanted to figure it out herself. Stacy was trying to decide if she was more scared of killing the lamb, or asking for help from the rugged man who had made clear his displeasure with their presence.

While Jessica and Stacy struggled to decide how or what to do with their lamb, Taylor decided to sneak up the hill and ask for the help they needed. She debated whether to call out for him or just try to find him, unsure which would probably anger him the most. But finding him proved easy as she heard noises coming from his greenhouse. What she didn’t realize was that it was one of his several garden showers, designed to put the drain water to good use on his crops. Every gallon he recycled was a gallon he didn't have to pump. As she opened the door to the partially underground greenhouse, there he was bathing himself. She froze and stared, too determined to get help to run away, and too scared of him to make even a slight noise.

As he turned the water off and faced her direction, Taylor figured she’d been seen, so she say what she needed to. “Just get it over with,” she told herself. He saw the young lady walking quickly toward him, her head faced straight down at the dirt pathway, trying not to look up at his undressed body. He was completely caught off guard, and had nothing to cover himself with but his hands, as he normally dried off by laying in a hammock and reading a book.

“Sir,” Taylor softly mumbled as she glanced part way up, then went right back to staring at the ground.

Mike was angry, as she had rightly assumed. To her, his voice felt like thunder echoing off the walls around them. “If you’re going to trespass on my land to tell me something, you damn well better look me in the eyes and speak up, or get the hell off my land!” he yelled.

Taylor closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then raised her head, trying to make and hold eye contact. “Sir, I’m very sorry for bothering you. But we need help, and if we didn’t need it badly, I wouldn't -”

“Is someone hurt?” he interrupted her.

“No sir,” she said. “But we’re hungry for something more than vegetables and bread, and none of us know how to kill the lamb we bought. Will you please teach us, just once, how to-?”

Mike cut her off again. “You mean to tell me that those two sent you up here to come on my land without permission, invade my privacy, just to ask for my help? Damn grown women sending a girl up here.”

Taylor was starting to feel like he was going to make her beg him for help. “Look sir, I said I’m sorry for coming up here! And I’m sorry if it bothers you that I’m standing here looking at you naked. Stacy and Jess don’t even know I’m here, and they’re going to be pissed as hell at me when I get back. So every adult within a hundred miles can be mad all you want. Are you going to help us or not?”

Seeing the young lady speak so boldly after starting off with such a humble demeanor surprised Mike. He couldn’t help but to respect her forward attitude in the awkward situation. “Get your ass in my truck. I’ll be over there in a minute to take you home.”

Taylor modestly glanced down, then went back to her stare at the ground as she hurried over to his truck.

For Taylor, the silent one mile drive seemed like an all day journey. She had no idea what he would say, if he said anything, or whether or not he was going to help them out.

As they reached the driveway, they saw Stacy outside looking for Taylor. Clearly very angry, she raced to meet the truck as Mike parked by the front of their house. “What the hell were you thinking!” she yelled. “You already know this man hates us for moving here.” Turning quickly to Mike, she continued without taking a breath, “I’m so, so sorry she bothered you. I promise it won't -”

Mike’s complete loss of social skills over the years took over again as he interrupted her. “Shut the hell up, lady!”

Stacy was terrified and quiet.

“This girl had the courage to do what you wouldn’t so that the four of you could have some meat on the table. Thank her!”

She was too scared to not do exactly as he said.

Before Stacy could say anything, they all noticed him walking off to where their lamb was penned up. Jessica followed him. She too was scared of him, but still bold enough to speak up and carry on a conversation. She wanted to tell Mike that they’d figure it out, but could only bring herself to answer his questions.

“This thing only looks about four months old,” he said. “What tools do you have for processing it? Do you have a smoke house? Or root cellar?”

“It’s four and a half months old. For cutting it up, all we’ve got is a good sharp knife set,” she replied. “And no, we don’t have a smoke house or root cellar yet.”

“It’s not ready, and neither are you,” he told her bluntly. “You’re going to need a saw. And you’re going to need some way to keep the meat from going bad. This thing is too young. The meat would be tender, but it’s a lot of work for a lot less food on the table. And from what I can see, you need quantity.”

They all stood around him, listening to how unprepared they were. “Come on. I’ve got some meat I can spare,” he said begrudgingly as he started walking to his truck. Quiet little Brad just smiled while the other three got very excited. Taylor, feeling very empowered by him making Stacy thank her, immediately asked if she could ride with him again. He just quietly kept walking. To her, that meant yes. Stacy still hadn’t said a word since thanking Taylor, and wasn’t going to speak up at the perceived approval for the ride.

The truck wasn’t even started before he regretted not giving Taylor a loud “NO,” in the harshest tone of voice he could muster up. And from her end, stereotypical, teenage-girl rambling kicked in to high gear.

“Thank you for not telling them I saw you naked,” she blurted out, suddenly acting like she was as comfortable with him as with a best friend in school.

He didn't know what to think, or how to respond, though she wasn’t giving him a chance to.

“Stacy and Jess used to be hookers before we moved up here so I saw lots of naked men when their customers would come over. That’s why we moved up here from Vegas. They didn’t want me and Brad to keep growing up around all that. They got scared I was going to be a hooker like them after I got in trouble at school. This guy gave me his lunch money for letting him look up my skirt. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

The ride down may have seemed like forever in her mind, but for him, the ride back took longer than his move from Florida. He barely had the truck stopped before he was jumping out the door while she was in mid-sentence.

He gave them a hind roast and some leg chops off a goat he had smoked the week before. “Here,” he said. “I'll go try to find a deer or elk tomorrow.”

“You're awesome!” said Taylor with a big smile on her face. "Can I come hunting with you?"

"That's enough, Taylor," Jessica stopped her. "Just be thankful he's helping us. You don't need to glue yourself to his side."

"If I get one, I'll let you all come up so you can learn what the hell you're doing with a dead animal," he told them.

"Thank you, again," Jessica replied. "We're going to learn all we can, and be better prepared in the future."

"I'm Mike," he told them as they started to leave.

"Thank you, Mike," Jessica said with a smile.

By mid-December that first year, they'd become exactly what he didn't want, friendly neighbors. Except for Jessica, they made themselves frequent fixtures around his place. So he was rather surprised when Jessica tagged along with Taylor on their snowmobile one cold afternoon. "Hey, Mike!" Taylor said as she waltzed in, treating his home as if it was her own. She went straight to a chair in the corner where she had a book that she'd been reading. Mike continued washing his dishes without so much as a glance.

Jessica came around behind him and grabbed a small towel that looked clean. "Mind if I help with the drying?" she offered.

"The air does a fine job on it's own," he said brashly, shooting her down.

"Oooh K," she said slowly, surprised at his attitude. "Did we come at a bad time?" she asked.

"Don't worry Jess. He's always like that," Taylor answered without looking up from her reading.

"Um, well, we can't stay too -"

Taylor cut Jessica off. "Yes we can. I have the keys."

"Anyways," Jessica shot Taylor an annoyed look.

"Will you get to the damn point already?" Mike demanded.

"Dang, okay. You're coming over for Christmas dinner next week. I was going to ask, but screw it. You're coming."

Mike just ignored her as he walked over by his wood stove where he had some clothes drying on a wooden rack.

"Next Wednesday evening at five. You're coming. And if you're not there, we'll come here."

He was listening, but went about his business as if he wasn't.

"Pick a book, Jess," Taylor said, hoping to stop her from making him mad.

She walked over and started looking through the dozens of shelves, impressed with his collection, but deciding not to comment on it.

Mike, as he normally did during Taylor's frequent visits, continued about his day as if they weren't there. He took his clothes in to a room with no door by the kitchen. Jessica was curious, and being more nosy than normal.

"Pick a book, Jess," Taylor said again.

"I'm just looking around," Jessica snapped back.

"He's in there changing. Pick a book."

Mike came back out in different clothes, and Jessica glared curiously at Taylor, who's face was buried in her book. He went over to the wood stove and opened a door. A delicious smell filled the room, captivating his uninvited guests attention. Taylor quickly marked her place and bolted to the kitchen. Jessica saw her go directly to the shelf with plates on it and grab three down.

"Taylor, I think we need to go."

"Go!?" she exclaimed. "It's time to eat. Come on. He's a good cook." She watched him walk by with a pan in his hands. "Oh, baked elk ribs!" She said excitedly.

"No, Taylor. That's his dinner, and he didn't invite us to join him," Jessica cut in.

Mike grabbed a plate from Taylor and served himself, sitting to eat and continuing to ignore them both.

"Sure he did, Jess," Taylor explained her rationale. "Look how much he made. He's not going to say anything, but obviously he didn't make this much for just himself," Taylor kept going, as she served herself and Jessica. "Take your coat off."

Jessica relented, hung up her coat, and sat to eat.

"So, I noticed some Navy stuff on top of your bookshelf up there," Jessica said inquiringly.

"Mmm! Yep. He's a disabled Veteran," Taylor answered as she swallowed a bite.

"I wasn't talking to you, miss," Jessica snapped at her. "Thank you for your service, Mike."

He hated when people said that.

"So, what happened? I didn't realize you were disabled," she went on.

"It's his hips. Something happened and they had to do surgery," Taylor again answered for him, knowing he wouldn't.

That got Mike's attention, and he looked up, glaring at Taylor.

"He's got these scars -," Taylor abruptly stopped, realizing she'd just put her foot in her mouth.

"Whoa. Um, what?" Jessica was clearly unhappy at realizing what Taylor was saying. "Scars, Taylor?" She turned to Mike, who knew they'd eventually find out about her seeing him in the shower that day, and was dreading it. "You mind telling me exactly how a girl who's barely fourteen years old knows about scars on your hips?" she demanded.

"It was an accident," Taylor said.

"Oh, what, he accidentally dropped his -"

"Dammit! I knew this would happen,” Mike exploded. “I'm not some damn pervert, so you can get that shit out of your head now!" He was livid that their intrusions to his home was causing this drama. "When the girl came up to ask for help, I was showering in the greenhouse. She walked in, and I didn't have anything to cover up with. She stood there talking to me instead of walking out. And that's it!"

Jessica was stunned.  No one had ever snapped at her like that. She didn't know what to think. If that was all that happened, she didn't think it was a big deal. But at that moment, her biggest concern was leaving, knowing they had worn out their welcome .

Later that evening there was a knock at Mike's door. He reluctantly opened it and found Jessica standing there shivering. "Okay, you don't have to say any -"

"Get in here before you get sick. There ain't any doctors up here," Mike had cut her off once again. She hurried inside to stand by his wood stove.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I'm very sorry for jumping to conclusions earlier. I was wrong. Taylor told us what happened, and she doesn't tend to lie to us about anything. Hell, sometimes we almost wish she would."

"No, you don't," he replied.

"Well, I am very sorry," she continued. "We all really do hope you'll still join us for Christmas. If not, I understand. And we won't come intrude on you if you don't show up. I'll go now. I'm sorry for bothering you."

"The boy and girl," Mike said. "They're good kids. The girl's a bit imposing. And blunt."

Jessica was again surprised. This time by him actually carrying on somewhat of a conversation. "Thanks," her surprise obvious in her voice.

"Where's their dads?" he asked. "Wait. That's not my business."

"No, it's okay. It seems they've made themselves part of your life, so you have every right to know. Um, well, I used to be a prostitute. We both did, and that's what we moved here to get away from. Anyways, Brad's dad could be anyone, anywhere. I really have no idea. As for Taylor, her dad was never around. Her mom was a drunk and dumped her on Stacy when she said she was going to go to rehab or something. Hell, that was like five years ago. Her mom never came back. So, well, we don't know where either of her parents are."

"So did she adopt her?"

"Nah. She's just lived with us ever since," she answered. "Well, I'm serious," she went on. "Please come over for Christmas."

"Don't forget your coat this time," was the answer she got.

As their first year as neighbors went on, Mike spent a lot of time mentoring them about living in the wilderness. They learned a lot about farming, ranching, and hunting. And in the process, they'd all become somewhat of a team. He used his tractor and knowledge to help them build a root cellar, and showed them how to use the dirt to build a smoke house out of rammed earth. They would help out with checking on his livestock and making fence repairs. They frequently tried to repay all his help by cooking and cleaning for him.

Their second year, he agreed to expand the gardening so the ladies could try selling at the farmer's markets. He built two very large pit greenhouses, and cultivated two more acres. So much area was almost more than they could handle without more machinery, but they made it work. They also added a hundred and fifty new laying hens, since free-ranged eggs cost almost nothing, yet sold for a premium. The ladies would take the food in to the farmer's markets in Cedar City and Saint George, and Mike let them keep the profits in exchange for them helping out more with his own shopping and other errands. While in town, they would go withdraw his military disability from the bank and bring him back the cash.

Brad reminded Mike of Opie Taylor, from The Andy Griffith Show, having the same freckles and red hair as his mom. Ever the quiet one, he would just show up and watch the only man he'd ever known, hoping to learn anything he could. He was a very observant young boy who liked to work. If Mike was splitting firewood, he would simply see the boy walk up and start stacking it. Nothing needed to be said by either of them. Mike would give the boy a nod of approval, and Brad would grin slightly as he grabbed as many logs as his little arms could handle.

Stacy was different with Mike. He was a man, and the only man around. She wanted his attention, like she had been used to getting from so many other men in the past. After learning of his garden showers, she built one of her own that she would try to be in whenever she thought he would be around. She often tried to show up at his place, wearing little, to surprise him with dinner or some homemade dessert. She even tried stripping down to join him in the shower once. But like her other more aggressive advances, he quickly took off to avoid the situation.

Jessica and Mike had grown to enjoy a more deep relationship. They didn't talk a lot, but every time they did talk, there was substance to it. Whether talking about the needed projects around their houses, or just unloading about something that was bothering them, almost everything said had a purpose.

Chapter 2

The Crash

On the morning of May 23rd, Stacy, Taylor, and Brad were making a trip into town. It's a three hour drive each way, and they had a lot of clothes to stock up on for everyone. Jessica and Mike stayed behind to plant an acre worth of three-sisters crops, consisting of corn, and different varieties of beans, squash and pumpkins.

When they first pulled up to Walmart, they noticed the parking lot was unusually empty. There were maybe a dozen other cars. And when they got inside, it was impossible not to notice that the entire grocery section was wiped clean, with nothing left on the shelves.

“What's going on?” Taylor asked the old man working as a greeter.

“Do you live under a rock?” he answered. “The entire economy is tanking, and it's going to be a lot worse than 2008 was.”

Taylor was only twelve during the 2008 crash, eight years ago, and didn't remember much of anything about it. And it was two years after then that they had moved to the mountains. But Stacy knew exactly how ugly 2008 had been. She couldn't forget watching the housing market, and her clients, being crushed financially.

“How much worse?” Stacy asked curiously.

“All the banks have been shut down as of today,” he said. “For the last week they had to limit withdrawals. We're only accepting cash, and so few people have any that prices are down at least 75% on everything. They shut down the stock markets yesterday after it dropped by more than half two days in a row.”

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed.

As she grabbed a cart, Stacy hesitated. She thought hard about what she'd just heard. “This is bad. Really bad. Great that we've got cash and everything is cheap, but this is going to get ugly. Let's hurry so we can get back and let Jess and Mike know what's going on.”

Everyone needed new socks and underwear, including Mike. His wardrobe was simple. Blue jeans and plain white t-shirts were all he ever wore. In the winter, the only change was from cowboy boots to snow boots, and a flannel over the t-shirt. The ladies had all grown to appreciate his stylistic laziness in their own lives too. They didn't care much about what they looked like because they were rarely out in society, other than their trips to the farmer's market. And even there they'd found that shorts and loose fitting tank tops were perfectly acceptable. In fact, it seemed to help draw in the male customers. And Brad never warmed up to the latest superhero trends, instead wanting to dress just like Mike did.

On the way out they stopped to watch the news on TV. A lot of it was financial gibberish that they didn't really understand. But two things stood out very clearly to Stacy. The first was that China & Russia were rumored to be planning to dump all their holdings of U.S. Treasuries, and stop accepting U.S. Dollars. She didn't understand the implications of it, but it sounded bad. The other thing, she knew full well what it meant. The president was debating an executive order for a federal emergency that would nationalize all banking in the United States. Now she couldn't get home fast enough to tell the others what was going on.

When they pulled up, Stacy expected to find Jessica and Mike out in the field planting. But instead they were soaking wet on Mike's front porch, sitting in the shade and savoring the breeze on a very hot day. They had finished the first half-acre, and decide to plant the other half later in the evening, by moon light if necessary. Stacy told Taylor and Brad to dig out Mike's stuff for him while she talked with the other two.

“Jess! Mike! You won't believe what's going on out there!” she exclaimed.

“Damn, girl, you look like you've been running from your own ghost. Calm down. Take a seat,” said Jessica.

“The economy is trashed, and it's way worse than last time.”

Mike sat quietly, listening intently.

“How bad? How'd this happen again?” asked Jessica.

“Walmart had everything marked down at least 75%. The groceries are all gone. All the banks are closed. The stores are all accepting cash only, but hardly anyone has cash since the banks are all closed. Then, on TV, they said the president is considering nationalizing all the banks. And something about rumors that China is going to get rid of their treasuries and not take dollars anymore,” she rambled on without taking a breath.

That got Mike's full attention. “Go unload your stuff. Come back up here later and we'll get plans worked out for tomorrow.”

“What are we doing, Mike?” inquired Stacy.

“I said we'll talk about it later. I need some time to think. Taylor, stay up here to give me a hand with some things.”

“I'll stay, and she can go with Jess & Brad to the house,” Stacy said, hoping for time alone with him.

“No, I need her. She knows where some of my stuff is that I need help getting together.”

Stacy felt a bit jealous that Taylor knew something she didn't.

After the others left, Mike told Taylor, “Go and start gathering up all my cash. You know where I've got it all hidden. Then bring the trucks to the barn.”

“How much is there?”

“I don't really know. Should be around $20,000 or $30,000 I guess.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I'm going to clean up and clear my head. We need to try to spend everything tomorrow. But we need to be sure to spend it wisely.”

“You plan to spend like $30,000 in one day!!” exclaimed Taylor. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was filled with both dismay and excitement.

“Yep. And we're taking all four trucks, with trailers.”

Mike went to shower and sit for a little while to clear his head and think. As he walked back to his house, Taylor was waiting on him. “I gathered up the money. It's on the table. I went ahead and filled up the gas tanks on each of the trucks too.” She knew why he wanted the trucks at the barn. He kept two, one-thousand gallon fuel tanks in there. One of diesel for his bigger truck and tractor, and one of gas for his other truck, the generator, and small tools like the tiller and chainsaw.

That night, everyone gathered at Mike's house. He and Taylor had counted and sorted the money, and were cooking dinner. He had elk steaks on the grill and she had some mashed potatoes and green beans on the outdoor wood stove.

When Stacy and Jessica saw the piles of money on the table, their jaws dropped. There was $27,420 total. Mike had said that Brad and Taylor could split the $420 to buy themselves whatever they wanted. $7,000 each was divided up between himself, Stacy, and Jessica. The remaining $6,000 Taylor would take.

“Okay,” he said. “Here's the plan. We're not planting the rest of the three-sisters acre until this is finished. Each of us will take the money that's sitting in front of us, and each take one of the four trucks. We've got the trailers hooked up. We'll go in pairs. Taylor and Stacy will go down to Saint George. Jess and I will go to Cedar City. Here's a list of important things to get. Get all you can. Do not separate. Jess and Stacy, load up your magazines and take your guns. Open carry. Taylor, You're driving my S-10, and there's an extra 9mm handgun in the glove box I want you carrying.”

“Oh my God, Mike!” said Stacy. “You act like we're going on some special forces mission or something.”

“This is nothing even close to that,” he replied. “But consider what we're doing, and more importantly, how we're doing it. You said stores are only accepting cash, but no one can get cash from the banks. We're carrying around several thousand dollars each. Then, when you think of the things we're buying, that most others simply can't, it's a risk. Not a huge risk, yet. But we have to do this tomorrow because I'm betting it's going to get a lot worse, and fast.”

“This is kind of scary,” Stacy complained.

“I didn't create these circumstances, Stacy. I just have a good idea how to respond to it for our needs. We're rolling the dice that any stores will even be open tomorrow. They probably won't be open much longer since they know the cash that customers have will be out soon. And if this stuff about China happens, the cash will lose all it's value anyways,” he told them.

“What? Money's still money. Just because China's being stupid about things doesn't change that,” said Taylor.

“Wrong,” replied Mike. “Money's value is in people being willing to accept it in trade for goods or services. If China stops accepting it, and dumps it's U.S. debt, that will guarantee other nations, and most large companies, will, at best, ask for a lot more of it per thing you want to buy. But many will just follow China's lead and not take dollars anymore. What value does it have if you can't buy anything with it? It's just paper.”

Mike continued, to a very quiet audience, “Take a minute to look over our lists. Ask any questions you may have. Then we all need to get to bed so we can get started early. Oh, yeah, everywhere you're buying stuff, always try to negotiate for a lower price since you're wanting to buy bulk. As long as businesses think the cash is going to retain value, but is in short supply, they're going to be very flexible. It sounds like demand for paper money is high. Not something I would have expected, and that won't last long, so let's take advantage of it.”

Mike and Jessica's List

Fuel tanks and fuel

STA-BIL (or other fuel stabilizer)

Chainsaw fuel mix

Oregon S62 chainsaw chains

Sledge hammer and ax handles

Marine grade 12volt batteries

AA, AAA, C, D and 9v batteries

Toilet paper and toiletries

Any supplies for first-aid

Matches

Cigarettes

Stacy's and Taylor's list was the same, minus the fuel tanks and fuel.

“Cigarettes, Mike? Really? Why do non-smokers need to stock up on those?” Jessica asked with a snarky tone in her voice.

“Well, if the China stuff is right, and just considering the way things look right now, I figure they could prove to be a high demand barter item in stressful times.”

The next morning they were all up early and headed to town well before sunrise. Mike and Jessica made their first stop at the farm supply stores to buy auxiliary transfer fuel tanks. They were each getting two, one-hundred gallon tanks. IFA only had two left in stock that Mike purchased for half off, so they headed over to C-A-L Ranch.

Jessica said, “Half off isn't too bad. Now let me try. You wait here.” Mike could see through the window, and saw a side of Jessica he had never seen in the six years they'd known each other. She was bluntly flirting with the man that was helping her, letting him put his hand on her lower back as he showed her where the tanks were, and rubbing on his biceps. When she came out, she was smiling from ear to ear. “It helps to be a woman. You paid $250 each for your tanks, right?”

Mike nodded.

“I just paid $50 each. I think I'll take over most of the shopping.”

He could only agree, and figured that Stacy and Taylor were probably, hopefully, doing likewise.

When the day was over, they all gathered together at the barn to look over the day's take. Four-hundred gallons of gasoline, and three-hundred of diesel, topping off Mike's existing tanks, plus leaving the new ones filled. “We've got at least a two year's fuel supply even if we don't ration our usage,” Mike told them.

Taylor was extremely proud of the deal she got on marine batteries.

“Thirty-two batteries for $20 each!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“I hope you kept some dignity,” Mike responded.

“Of course. But we thought it'd be fun to compete to see who could flirt our way to the best deals.”

Jessica laughed as she gave Mike an “I told you so” look. “Don't worry ladies. Mike charmed his way into $5 cartons of cigarettes at a gas station.”

Mike looked puzzled. “What?! How'd I... I didn't... This is bullshit. Did anyone have any money left over?”

They pooled the remaining money together and counted out $136 and some pocket change left.

“What did you two get with the money you had?” he asked Brad and Taylor.

Brad was beaming as he talked about his new bike, extra inner tubes, a hand held CB radio, and a few sets of full camouflage clothing.

Taylor chimed in “I know it's kind of useless, but I got some dresses, make-up and shoes. And I picked up some new bikinis since I don't have any that fit anymore.”

Mike assured her that small things like that aren't at all useless. “Sometimes we all need something to have some fun with, and a smile can be worth paying for.”

“I'm exhausted,” Mike said with a sigh as he abruptly turned and walked off. Brad jumped on his new bike and took off toward home.

As the three women walked, they realized Mike hadn't been to town in several years. “I didn't even think about how hard this might be on him,” Jessica noted. “He's not seen anyone besides us and Phillip in forever.”

Mike had thought about it on the way home from his third trip, but was too mentally drained to think about anything now but getting some sleep.

The next morning Mike slept in past 9 am. Four hours later than his usual 5 am. When he got up, he found that the others had tended to the animals already. Brad was out on his bike to check on the fencing around the ranch and make sure no animals had gotten out. Jessica was cooking breakfast. Stacy was cleaning and doing laundry and had a new bar of soap waiting so he could shower. And Taylor was out weeding a garden and gathering some cabbage and broccoli to use in a lunch she had planned. Mike really didn't know what to think about it. But he was also still too exhausted to think about much of anything. As he finished up his shower, Jessica brought him clean clothes and told him to come eat.

Forks hitting the plates, and chickens squawking in the background were the only sounds at breakfast. Stacy and Jessica both broke the silence calling his name. “We just want you to know how thankful we are for you doing all you have to help make sure we'll be okay during this recession,” Jessica said.

“Yes, we appreciate everything more than we know how to say,” Stacy added.

“I like my bike,” Brad added, as he sat there on a warm summer morning, decked out in full camo.

Taylor got up with Stacy to clear the table and just gave Mike a long hug. A very odd silence from her.

Mike didn't know what to think. He'd never been really close to anyone before they came along. “Family takes care of family,” he said as he got up and walked outside. He hadn't really thought about it before then, but they had become his family. They were the only family he'd ever had. They weren't the irritating “bitches” he'd once called them for buying up that forty acre parcel, and then actually moving to it. His ranch was now their ranch too. He thought he'd found the ultimate happiness when he moved out to his secluded slice of heaven. Now, he really felt a peaceful warmth about life. Happiness was no longer an adequate word. No word was sufficient. His house was a home, and these four were family.

Mike was sitting on the porch reading a book when the others came outside. “After lunch I've got something to show you all,” he told them.

“Good,” said Taylor. “I'll send Brad up to get you when it's ready. I'm baking a rabbit and you're coming to our house for lunch.” Mike just nodded and went back to his reading.

They gathered again at the barn after lunch. “I want to get the batteries, ammo, and a few other things loaded up on the trailers. We're taking it to store somewhere else,” he told them. They all got a puzzled look, figuring the barn was where they'd keep everything.

With it all loaded up, Mike led them in the other trucks up the mountain, through a fence that they had thought was the end of his property line. They parked on a small flat area about a hundred yards from a peak. None of them had ever been up here. While the ladies took in the incredible views, able to see for nearly a hundred miles in all directions, Brad took notice of something peculiar. “What are those?” he asked, pointing up the hill.

“It's an antenna and wind generator,” Mike replied. “You'll soon know.”

He led them around the side of the mountain to a small metal door. Not a big heavy steel door, as it was just made of three layers of corrugated steel panels. It went about ten feet in, to a second metal door. When he opened that door, Brad yelped out “cool!” It was a cave Mike had built his second year of living on the mountain.

Jessica, in a spell of wittiness, commented “Holy survivalist, Batman!” which Stacy found to be hilarious.

“What is all this for?” asked Taylor.

Mike answered “Well, it's kinda just because it was fun to build it, and kinda for the unlikely event I'd actually need it.”

Inside the first room of the two-thousand square foot cave was a large rack of batteries, coils of wire, and shelves with inverters and other electrical items on it. Over on the back wall was a corner hutch desk that looked to them like a military command center in a movie. It had a pair of computers, a TV, and radio equipment.

“I'm not quite as cut off from the rest of the world as you thought. I don't use it often. Haven't been up here in months. But with this, I can monitor news across the world, and just about any radio signal, whether it's someone's private two-way radios, weather, shortwave, police, and even most military frequencies. I can also send data and voice messages worldwide, though I've not done any of that since I was in the Navy.”

“There's a whole side of you we know nothing about,” Stacy said, somewhat nervously. “Before now, I would have guessed you'd never even owned a cell phone.”

“Nothing for you to be scared of. But yes. In a former life I was an electrical engineer in the Navy, working primarily with communications equipment. There's obviously a lot I learned there. I was good at something I didn't like doing.”

Mike reached down and flipped on a switch, and suddenly the corner work area they were standing by was lit up with little LED lights and the glare of old CRT computer monitors. He sat down and began pushing a few buttons, and after a moment, the news could be heard coming out of a small speaker.

“NPR Breaking News... In response to China and Russia selling off their U.S. Treasuries for $.08 on the dollar, the president has signed an executive order nationalizing all banks in the United States. Calling the actions by China and Russia an act of economic warfare, all Chinese and Russian assets held in the U.S. have been seized, and the Coast Guard is working with the Navy to also seize all known Chinese and Russian ships within a hundred miles of American shorelines.

“In response, China and Russia have begun seizing American assets, including those of American based businesses. The president is expected to sign another order later today nationalizing critical supply lines of food and fuel, using The Department of Homeland Security and National Guard to implement rationing. Many are speculating that we are witnessing the beginning of a new Cold War.”

Mike pushed a button to mute the radio. “Well, glad we stocked up on toilet paper, because it's just hit the fan.” That was the first time they'd ever heard him attempt to make a joke, and no one was laughing. The American economy, as it had existed for more than two-hundred years, was dead.

“Let me show you all around so you know what supplies I keep in here, and where. Then we'll bring in the stuff we just bought.”

“There's no where near enough room in here for all that,” Taylor snapped. She was a bit annoyed, thinking she knew all about the ranch and all of his little secrets.

“See this shelf over here,” he said, pointing to a shelf that looked like it was secured to the wall of the cave. “Grab it right here, and pull slightly up and out.”

Mike demonstrated that the shelf was also a door to three more rooms. “On the right is a small bathroom. Behind that is a storage room with food, guns, water, solar panels, some wind generators, a gas generator, and several other things that could be useful in a disaster. There's also extra CB radios identical to the ones we already use. Off here to the left is a small bunk room. There's three sets of bunk beds, with bedding and pillows.”

“Why did you put this way out here, just under the mountain peak?” Stacy wanted to know. “Why not just build another root cellar for it? Or even easier, just put it in your house and barn?”

“Reasonable questions. Up here my antennas get the best range without obstruction. Up here is hidden and away from the house. I know our homes are pretty well hidden from the rest of the world, but if anyone desperate enough followed the right dirt roads, we're found. From up here I can see anyone coming long before they can get close enough to be a threat. And underground because when I worked as an electrical engineer in the Navy, I learned that the biggest threat to our country, aside from our own politicians, was what's called an EMP. Electromagnetic Pulse. It's a type of nuclear weapon that can kill most things electrical. Underground, this stuff should be protected from one of those, though that's very unlikely to ever happen.”

Taylor, still showing her irritation, wanted to know “Why are you showing us all this? Why are you just now telling me?”

“Well, because like I said this morning. Family takes care of family. And that's what you four have become to me. You've become something I never had. Something I never thought I'd have or want. This stuff is for disasters, and our country is in a disaster. It shouldn't really change how we live way up here. But it could. We'll need to monitor the news more.”

“Great!” Taylor said with a hint of mischievousness in her voice. “So, now that we're family, can we know when your birthday is?”

Mike just sighed, and walked out of the cave.

For the last four years, they had decided that since Mike wouldn't tell them when his birthday was, they were going to celebrate it on June 1st. He loathed the idea, but consented. He'd grown to care about them enough to not want to hurt their feelings.

That night, Jessica and Taylor brought Mike up some fresh bread they'd just finished baking. It was still warm, and the smell filled Mike's house quite nicely. As they were leaving, he called out to Taylor, “June 22nd. Y'all have been three weeks early.” A huge smile spread across her face as she headed out the door. Jessica stared back at Mike with a slight grin, and shouted to Taylor that she'd be home later.

She walked over and sat on the swing on his porch, looking at him in a manner that told him to join her. "Why have you kept your birthday a secret all these years?"

"You know, in all honesty, I really don't even know when it is."

"So you just flat out lied to us? Taylor adores you, and you lied to her?"

"Not exactly. Any legal paperwork for me has always said June 22nd. But that's the day someone left me on the porch of a children's home. They assumed I was about two years old."

Jessica looked stunned. She didn't really know what to say. "So they celebrated your birthday on that day when you were a kid?"

"Oh yeah, it was exciting," he replied facetiously. "Celebrating a birthday meant you got to go first in the cafeteria, get a cupcake, then get beat up by the other kids because they didn't get a cupcake too. Thankfully they pretty much quit acknowledging it by the time I turned thirteen."

"Damn, Mike," was all Jessica could come out with.

"Don't feel sorry for me. My childhood may have sucked, but it led me to living here and I wouldn't trade this life for anything."

"So is that why you joined the Navy? To get away from all that?" she asked.

"Yeah, kinda. I knew I'd have no where to go when I turned eighteen. That, and I just wanted to find a place I could fit in. I was always the oddball kid. I didn't care for sports. Spent almost all of my time with my face in a book. So, when I was sixteen, I faked my birth certificate, diploma, and high school transcript, to join the Navy."

"You forged all your records to join early? And got away with that with the federal government?"

Mike laughed. "Yep. Actually you're now the second person to ever know that."

"Who was the first? An old boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?!" Mike exclaimed. "What the hell do you mean boyfriend? I'm not gay. I said second because I'm the first."

"Oh. Um, you know there's nothing wrong with being gay, Mike."

"I'm not gay dammit. Why the hell do you think that?"

"Seriously? You're not? Oh wow, um, I feel like and ass now. I thought you were gay because you always ran off when Stacy came on to you."

Mike felt as weak and vulnerable as ever. His voice slightly trembled. "I ran off because intimacy is probably the only thing in life that scares me, Jess. I never had a mom to hug me when I cried as a kid or kiss my forehead before bed. I've never had a girlfriend. Stacy was the first woman I'd ever seen undress like that. I don't even know what it feels like to kiss someone."

"Oh my God, Mike. You're telling me you're a virgin? You must think we're sick for what we used to do."

"No, no, I don't. I don't judge anyone. Actually, I really admire how y'all chose to give it all up. I have a lot of respect for you both."

"So me and Stacy are the only two women you've ever seen naked?" Jessica said, laughing. "I would have never changed clothes in front of you if I'd known you were straight."

"Um, I've seen Taylor too. Kind of like with you, she's changed and showered in front of me a few times, just 'cause it was convenient. Lucky for me I guess, every time I've seen you I had on loose fitting pants, or was half under water at the reservoir, so you couldn't tell anything."

Jessica just laughed and blushed. They were quiet for a few minutes before Jessica spoke up. "You know, Mike, you need to get past this. You're still young and might find someone you want to marry one day. How would you deal with that?"

His demeanor finally lightened up some and he chuckled. "Sure, now that our country's collapsing, the hermit in the mountains will find a bride!" Mike laughed harder. "You know, what would I even need a wife for?"

She hesitated for a moment. "I guess you're right. You've actually got that type of companionship with all of us, except for the intimacy." They both laughed more at the thought. "But I still think you need to get past this fear. If nothing else, then you could truly say nothing scares you, and all five people who know you would believe it."

“Yeah, well, I'd never be willing to go get married anyways,” he stated.

“Why not? What if you found that perfect woman you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

“Then I'll spend the rest of my life with her. But I don't need some damn license involving the government in our relationship to do that,” he answered.

"So you all have thought I was gay all this time?" he asked, laughing again.

"Stacy's not sure. I've told her you were several times, but she's kinda insecure so part of her thinks you ran off because she's not attractive anymore. I don't know if Taylor has ever thought about it or would care. I'm certain Brad's never thought about it. Me, yeah, I thought you were totally gay. I told Stacy she better learn to accept being single because the only man around didn't like women."

A few minutes passed as they sat quietly, enjoying the peacefulness of the mountains. "Well, I probably need to head home." Jessica started to get up, but paused. She turned to Mike and kissed him on the lips. "There, now you can't say you don't know what it's like to be kissed," she said, as she smiled real big. He froze up, with a long blank stare on his face. "Good night, Mike,"  she said softly, as she started her walk home.

"Hey, Jess," he said. "Don't say any -"

"No," she replied shaking her head. "You'll tell them when you're ready."

Chapter 3

Friends Become Family

Almost a month had passed and life went on perfectly as normal. Mike's birthday, his real birthday, was sincerely being celebrated for the first time in his life. He was sitting on his porch having a glass of warm mint tea when the others showed up.

"Good morning birthday boy!" Taylor said excitedly. She went inside to get herself some tea, refill his glass, and returned to join him.

Jessica told them all that breakfast would be ready in about twenty minutes. She was cooking some eggs, cubed goat meat, and biscuits. Stacy went straight to Mike's room and gathered up his old, torn clothes. She was intent on mending what she could, and making something else out of what was too damaged to fix.

"Where's Brad?" he asked Taylor.

"He's up checking on the animals in the pasture. That's his birthday present to you. He's taking over all the chores on the farm today."

Mike kinda chuckled. "Nine years old, and that boy works like he's in his twenties. Let's not tell him I already made the rounds this morning."

He looked inside at Jessica cooking. Every day of the last few weeks he had thought about that quick kiss. He wanted it to happen again, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. He didn't know if he should say anything. He liked how things were, and didn't want any weirdness between them, or between the others if they found out.

He got up and walked over to a spot near the edge of the canyon where he liked to stand. Taylor followed along, mostly out of habit. He stood there looking down between the mountains. It was such a clear day he could see his reservoir glistening in the distance. As she wrapped her arms around him, Taylor said "I'm sorry I don't really have anything special to do for you or give you for your birthday."

Mike smiled. "But you are," He put his arm around her and hugged her tight.

"What do you mean?"

He gave her an abbreviated version of what he had told Jessica a few weeks ago. "You sitting here hugging me," he paused. "I can't think of anything more special I could ask for."

Off to the side they saw Brad coming towards them, speeding down on his bike. "Does he sleep with that bike too?" Mike asked jokingly.

"Hey, we're missing a goat," Brad said in a panicked voice, trying to catch his breath.

"Slow down, son. From where?"

He kept goats in three separate areas. Alpine goats, for milk, in a small pasture behind the barn. Boers, for meat, out with the sheep and cattle. And a weaning pen to separate kids from their does.

"There's a wether missing from the weaning pen."

"Just one? Any signs of blood or anything?"

"Nope. Just the little runt Alpine is gone. I can't find him."

"Well, we can try to look around more later. But if there's no blood or anything, I'd guess a bird got him. Maybe a hawk, or I've been seeing a few golden eagles around lately. As big as he was getting, an eagle would be more likely. It happens, kid."

After breakfast Taylor cleaned the table and dishes while Brad took some table scraps to the chickens and went to empty the compost bucket. Mike was standing by the canyon again when Stacy came up from behind him, pressed her body firmly against his and kissed him. He froze again for a moment, then he heard Jessica giggling.

"Sorry, I told her to," Jessica said as she walked up and kissed him too. "Happy birthday."

Stacy laughed and added "Happy birthday to the best, grumpy, reclusive, bastard, of a neighbor we could ask for."

"Wow! Um, okay. So...," Mike was on cloud nine and at a total loss for words.

"Okay, so today is all your day to do anything you want," Jessica told him.

"Yeah, today is yours. But tonight, we've got something planned for you," Stacy added, as they both grinned.

"Wait, what?"

"Don't worry about that," Jessica said.

"So what is the birthday boy going to do today?" Stacy asked.

"I think I'll put some holes in those targets down there. Then maybe we can all enjoy an afternoon swim at the reservoir."

Down the canyon, beside his mountain, Mike had set up a target practice range. Shooting and reading were his favorite ways of passing the time. He had targets set up starting at one-hundred yards, all the way out to a mile. He was very consistent out to a thousand yards, but beyond that his hit percentage went down sharply at the one-mile range.

Since he was celebrating his birthday today, he decided to pull out his home built .50 caliber. He had taken a partially finished AR-15 lower receiver, machined it himself, and paired it with a modified kit to give him such a strong caliber rifle for a fraction of the cost of the popular Barrett rifles he was too cheap to buy. He also decided to get out his old .270 as well. It was his first rifle, so it would always be sentimental to him. It didn't have the power for the long range shooting he wanted to do, but he enjoyed using it out to the six-hundred yard target. He had fun spending his time shooting, and even landed a few hits on his one mile target.

After a good lunch of elk stew Jessica cooked up, and an apple pie from Taylor, Mike asked the others to join him for a swim at the reservoir. They were all having a great afternoon. Stacy and Brad left as it started getting closer to diner time. Brad wanted to grill some goat meat for dinner, and she'd agreed to supervise him and cook some fried potatoes on the side. The others decided to swim for another hour, and then get out to dry off in the late afternoon sun.

As they laid there, Taylor spoke up and asked, “What's happening in the rest of the world? You guys are still listening to the news, right?” Jessica and Mike had been monitoring the ongoing events as best they could.

“Well,” said Jessica, “the president has ordered that the government take over just about everything. All banking, food, fuel and medical care was nationalized in the first week. Pretty much all businesses, housing, and everything else was nationalized about a week ago."

Mike added, “A lot of farmers are still told they own their farms, but they can only farm what they're told to, and they're not paid for selling it anymore. They just don't have to pay for anything, and are provided food and power and allowed to continue living in their homes. It sounds like it's the same for all businesses. And if they try to do things their own way or get paid for what they're doing, the government completely takes it from them. It's gotten harder to follow though because the news has stopped reporting on any of it. I'm guessing the government took over the news too. Most of what we're hearing is from Amateur Radio, and I'm sure the government is trying to locate their signals to shut them down.”

“Well, that doesn't sound too bad,” quipped Taylor. “People get to have their homes, food, work. What's wrong -”

Mike cut her off somewhat angrily, “There's a lot wrong with -”

“Okay, I think we need to get dressed and head home,” Jessica interjected. The tone in her voice making clear that she wanted the conversation dropped.

After dinner, Taylor asked Mike if they could talk for a little bit. She wanted to understand what was happening, and why. “Hey, sorry I made you mad earlier. I just don't understand all this stuff. How did all this happen?” She sat down beside him as he started to explain.

“I wasn't mad at you. Just mad at the situation. I know I avoid society, but I still care about my country. There was really only two options once we reached this point. Complete tyranny, or total anarchy. Both suck. Americans like the simplicity of order and structure, so tyranny just came naturally.”

“Yeah, but why did it all change? I mean, obviously most people would never have wanted this. But it's all out of their control,” she asked.

“Well, basically we became a nation of spoiled brats. Everyone felt like they deserved certain things just because they were Americans, so they voted for people who would promise to give them what they wanted. 'Give me liberty, or give me death,' turned into 'Give me a check, I'll give you my vote.'”

“Like what? What did people think they deserved?”

“It started with wages, retirement and food back in the 1930's. The Great Depression was bad, and poverty was horrid. At first, the cost of guaranteeing these things caused the Great Depression to drag out longer, but when the government started spending what was needed to fight World War II, people were able to really get to work producing things. For a long time, and even still today, people are taught that it was the laws promising things that made the economy strong again. But it was the war, the needs of the war, that saved the economy then.”

Mike continued, “After the war, people had jobs, factories were producing goods that people wanted and needed. And everyone felt they deserved more. Minimum wages increased, making it more expensive to hire workers. Medical care for certain groups of people was the next big thing the government guaranteed. They had to pay for it of course, which meant more taxes, again making everything companies were producing cost more. And all the while, the government was steadily borrowing more and more money. And they had to borrow, because if they taxed everyone enough to cover the costs of the guarantees, people would have voted differently.

“To help cover the borrowing, the Federal Reserve had to create more money. You've seen at the farmer's market how, if there's too much of something, and not enough people wanting it, it gets cheaper. Not worth as much. Well, the same applies to money.

“So the government would look at everything starting to get more expensive, and decide to raise the minimum wage. That would raise the prices of everything, including things the government needed. To pay the extra costs, the government had to borrow and print more, again increasing the costs of everything until they had to raise the minimum wages again. This isn't easy to explain in simple terms. Is it making sense?”

“I think so,” Taylor responded. “Basically the government created a cycle where things had to keep getting more and more expensive.”

“Yep,” said Mike. “It kept going to the point that we shifted from a production economy, to a consumer and service economy. We'd been somewhat of a consumer economy for a long time, but produced most of the goods here. That started to change because the cost for making things here got more expensive than people were willing to pay for them. Other countries, especially China, started producing things way cheaper. So for the last few decades, a lot of our economy revolved around the selling of goods made in other countries, or providing services. Not that sales and services are bad at all, but when the balance with production is lost, after a while, it becomes an economy that can't support itself anymore. That's what's happened.”

“Damn, this all sounds so complicated.”

Mike laughed, knowing he was giving a simplified picture of how things worked. “It is. Our economy is probably the most complex man-made thing in history. There's a ton of other factors that have contributed to our total economic crash here too. Over-regulation of many industries certainly played a role. Allowing businesses to have too much influence through lobbyists in what government does to favor them. And our federal debt. We did that to ourselves, largely to cover the promises. I'd guess it's passed $20 trillion by now. That hurt us more than anything. And of course China basically declaring economic war on us like two decades ago, and us -”

“Wait, what?” Taylor interjected. “China declared war on us? I don't remember that war.”

“Economic war Taylor. Not bombs and battles. Back after the first Gulf War, before you were born, China saw just how fast we defeated Iraq. And at the time, Iraq had one of the more formidable armies. We beat them in a matter of weeks. China's People's Liberation Army published a book called 'Unrestricted Warfare.' It was a manual of sorts for using the economic path we were on, as well as other things, to ultimately defeat the U.S. and replace us as the world's superpower. And we pretty much played right into their hands. It's almost like we used the book as a guide for our policies to help them defeat us. It took time, but their culture is a lot more patient than our fast-food society.”

“So China put out a book about how they planned to defeat us, and we didn't do anything about it?”

“Not really. Like I said, we practically helped them. My fear is that they're not done trying to destroy us yet. We'll see. Anyways, knowing all this is part of why I built this ranch the way I did. I wanted to be alone and secluded, and to know that I'd be okay if any of this ever actually happened. Y'all kind of screwed up my 'alone and secluded' part of that,” he said with a smirk “but while everyone else is pretty much functioning as a government owned slave, we're sitting here free to grow what we want, hunt when we want, run this ranch how we want, and spend our time how we choose to spend it.”

“What do you mean they're not done trying to destroy us? What more could they do? They killed our currency and entire economic system,” Taylor said, sounding a bit angry.

“First off, they didn't kill our currency and economy. They just helped us in doing it to ourselves. As for what more they could do? Remember when I -”

"Okay you two," Jessica called out to them. "Time for me to steal him away."

"No, he's mine," Taylor responded jokingly.

As Taylor and Mike stood up, she gave him another tight hug. "Good night, Mike. See you in the morning."

Jessica grabbed Mike by the hand and started walking up to his place. "Where's Stacy?" he asked, feeling somewhat nervous about whatever it was they had planned.

"She's been up at your house since we finished eating." They were quiet for a minute before she continued, "You've had one heck of a day huh?" Mike nodded, with a slight grin.

"Well, I hope it was fun and relaxing for you, but the real fun is only just beginning,"she continued with a sly grin.

She looked at him as they walked, not letting go of his hand. He could see her eyes and smile sparkling in the moonlight. He had a funny feeling in his stomach. The only other time he'd felt that was the first time she'd kissed him a few weeks ago. He wondered if he loved her. He'd never thought about love before. He knew he'd never felt love before. Did he love all of them? He was confused and excited. A whole host of emotions was running through his mind.

As they got to his house, Stacy was waiting for them on the porch. She got up and took him by his other hand, and they both walked him to the outdoor shower. Candles and a pair of oil lanterns were lit and set out around it. Nothing was said as they started undressing him. Jessica turned on the water, and they led him back in to it before undressing themselves and joining him. Mike couldn't hide his excitement this time. Stacy pulled out some soap she'd made earlier in the week. He noticed a stronger smell than their normal soaps. "Lavender," he thought. With Jessica on his right, and Stacy to his left, they began washing his body for him. They scrubbed firm, but not too hard. When they were done, they stood close against him as the water poured down, rinsing them off.

As Stacy turned off the water, Jessica pulled out three chairs and sat him in the middle one. They sat on each side of him in the cool night breeze. All three of them had goosebumps, and none knew whether it was from the chilly air after a warm shower, or the emotions filling their thoughts. Mike still felt a little nervous, but was starting to relax some. It was probably the longest time without talking he'd spent around them since they met. He certainly had never imagined Stacy could be so quiet.

Stacy got up, and took him by the hand. Jessica whispered into his ear, "No more fear, Mike. No more fear," as they led him inside. There he found his bed turned so it wasn't against the wall anymore.

"Welcome to your first spa treatment," Stacy said invitingly as she guided him to lay on his stomach.

"With a fun twist that'd be illegal anywhere outside Nevada if you paid for it," Jessica added with a giggle.

Chapter 4

Reaching Out

The next morning Mike awoke to the sound of his name being said softly. "Mike. Mike. Time to wake up sleepy head." It wasn't Jessica's or Stacy's voice though. It was Taylor waking him up. "Come on Mike. Wake up."

He slowly opened his eyes and realized that the other ladies weren't there with him anymore. It almost felt more like a dream than reality. Taylor pulled the covers off him and said in a louder voice "Come on Mike. Breakfast is on the table, and there's work needing tended to."

She had his clothes set out for him and walked out to sit and read. Mike came out to find a glass of milk, and some meat and toast getting cold waiting on him. He walked over to Taylor, gave her a gentle rub across her shoulders, and said "Good morning."

"Uh, huh. Pretty rare for you sleep in like that after an easy day."

He just smiled as he sat to eat.

After breakfast, the day kicked off similarly to most days. She went with him to the barn to gather eggs, while he milked the goats. Brad was there on his bike, waiting to join in on the daily routine of checking on all the animals. Jessica was at her place splitting wood, and Stacy working on laundry. Everything seemed like nothing had changed.

Once morning chores were complete, Taylor approached Mike. "Is there any way for us to check on how people are doing? Like besides the news. Um, like, could we go in to town?"

Mike was trying to get his chainsaw ready to take down a few dead trees for the coming winter's firewood, and to make room for new growth. "I'll think about it, Taylor," he said. "I really doubt we're going to go in to town, but we can probably get closer in to try and see what's going on with the binoculars or telescope. Maybe we can use a CB radio to talk to someone in town to see what's going on."

She nodded, not thrilled with his answer, but happy they might at least try to see what's happening. It had been almost a month since the crash, and it was really starting to weigh on her that others might be suffering while they lived what was a pretty normal and comfortable life.

He got the four trees dropped, and hauled two to his house before taking the other two to them. Jessica and Stacy met him to help unload the wood, both giving him a quick hug and kiss before getting started. He wondered to himself if this was going to become a regular part of life or not. And if so, would it change anything for the worse?

"I was starting to wonder if we were going to see you before lunch time," Jessica quipped.

He tried not to smile too big.

"So, we were talking last night after you went to sleep, and we were wondering about taking a lot of the produce we would normally sell and see if there's anyone in town really in need of the help that we could give it to," said Stacy.

"Yeah," Jessica added, "It's hard to imagine that a government that couldn't keep it's money stable could do an efficient job of keeping everyone well fed. It'd just be the right thing to do."

Apparently Taylor wasn't the only one concerned about everyone else. Mike wondered why he wasn't giving the rest of society much thought, other than being upset about what had happened to the nation he once served. He suddenly felt guilty for not thinking much about helping. But, he reasoned with himself, his first priority was keeping them provided for and safe. Venturing too close to town could risk the safety that their isolation provided them.

"Taylor was asking about the folks in town too. I told her I thought we might could get close enough to look in on them from a distance, and maybe talk to someone on the CB to see what we can find out."

"Yeah, but that's not really doing anything to help them," Stacy said.

"I know. But it would be a way to find out if help is needed, while letting us keep a safe distance. I don't want to take any chances with y'alls safety. We'll go after lunch. Maybe we could try first with the smaller towns, like Hurricane. Anyone we could reach there would know what's happening in Cedar City or Saint George."

After lunch they all piled in to Stacy's Suburban. Mike was very insistent that they pack a few days worth of food and water, and that they all had a gun with several loaded magazines, just in case.

"Where are we headed to?" Taylor asked.

"We're going down closer to Saint George. Hopefully we can get in touch with someone from Hurricane or Toquerville on the CB and find out what's happening."

As they got about fifteen miles outside of Hurricane, just a few miles north of the town of Virgin, they encountered a group of around twenty or so people walking along the dirt road. They stopped, and a man stepped up to introduce himself. He was a tall and lanky man, around six feet tall, but probably didn't weigh an ounce over a hundred and fifty pounds. He was very clean cut with dark hair, and a few strands of gray. They guessed he was in his late 40's or early 50's.

"Hello," the man said, seeming annoyingly jolly. "I'm Bishop Christensen. What bring you folks out here?"

"Well, we've kind of been out of the loop since things went down about a month ago, so we thought we'd come to see how everything was going." Mike turned off the Suburban so he could better hear the man, and conserve fuel. "I almost expected to see towns burning down from riots over supplies, but from the overlook all appears pretty normal."

"We got close to that happening I think," he replied. "The first ten days or so were organized chaos at best."

"What happened?" Jessica asked.

Bishop Christensen turned to his group and told them to go ahead, that he'd meet up with them at camp. "At first, when the semis would roll in, instead of backing into the loading docks at stores, they had the national guard escorting them, and the guardsmen would hand out food and toiletries to people. It was first come, first serve, so there were a lot of fights over things as silly as toothpaste. There were even a few shootings over food. The guardsmen were ordered to shoot anyone fighting or trying to cheat to get more than their share."

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Stacy.

The Bishop clearly didn't care for her choice of words, but continued. "Well, like I said, it was organized chaos at best. They ordered that stores be taken over, and then assigned some arbitrary value to everything and everyone. I guess the NSA databases tracking us all came in handy," he chuckled uncomfortably. "Now, people shop using their drivers licenses. They scan the bar code or swipe the magnetic strip. I hear they're testing using people's smart phones for ID like this too now in some areas. I don't know that anyone really knows what they're considered to be worth."

"And people are putting up with this?" Mike asked.

"Well, at first there were a lot of people who didn't have licenses that were being left out, so they reinstated food stamp cards to fix that for most of them. And a lot of the once wealthy folks have come to find that they can't afford a lot of the things they used to. But other than that, yeah, most people were just glad to have some type of structure back in life."

The Bishop looked at all of them and hesitantly asked "Are you guys from that HLDS group east of here?" referring to the Holy Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. A polygamist group formed by a few former FLDS members after Warren Jeffs was convicted.

"Oh hell no," said Jessica. "The three of us and my son all live together. He's our neighbor."

"So that's just where things stand now?" Mike wanted to know.

"Unfortunately not," said the Bishop. "All the major news networks, even the cable news, got shut down. Now we have only one news source. They call it 'New America News Network.' NANN. We now have a truly state run media.

"Also," he continued, "the government has been hoarding the good foods and stuff, and a lot of the fuel, for the big cities. I guess they're more concerned about keeping control where there's millions of people. The only meat we've been able to get down here for the last two weeks has been the cheap logs of ground meat. A few people are getting other meat by hunting illegally and killing off what livestock is in the area. Some farmers from up around Enterprise tried bringing down some sheep and cattle to help out, but the Guard caught wind of it and took everything, leaving them stranded here. My sister and her husband, who live over in Santa Clara, ended up taking those poor guys home. Dang Guard even took their truck."

"So all the good stuff goes to the cities now huh? Mike asked.

"Yep. Word is though, that people's values can't buy much of it. If a family wants some good steaks, they practically have to give up a weeks worth of other food. Unless they have guns or bullets to trade in," Bishop Christensen said, with a somewhat depressed tone to his voice. "The guns aren't worth so much, but since all sales of ammunition were suspended when they assigned the values, bullets have become a hot commodity. People started using it some for barter, and the government caught on quickly. Another Bishop I know up in Provo said he traded in a brick of .22LR shells for a month's worth of fuel and fifty pounds of good cuts of meat."

"Disarm the people, without telling them you're disarming them? Well, smart I guess," Mike commented as he shook his head is disappointment.

"Yeah, but if I know him, he's got fifty more bricks of shells hidden around his place," the Bishop said, referring to his friend. "This won't go as far as the government hopes up in the city. At least not around the Salt Lake Valley. They're probably giving out steaks and fuel like crazy in cities like Los Angeles or Chicago, and up in the north east. And I don't think they'll ever get ammo for goods in smaller towns, unless it's the residents shooting to take the supplies."

"I hear that!" Mike replied with a slight smile. "Well, I don't want to keep you from your group for too long Bishop. Where are you guys camped?"

"Um, well, if you were to take that turn to the right back a hundred yards," the Bishop pointed back the way they had come. "We're down about two miles. There's a nice cove of cedars that we like to come to."

"It was nice meeting you," Mike said as he got back in and started the truck.

"Would you like a ride?" Stacy offered.

The Bishop looked at Mike and said it wasn't a bad walk.

"I insist," she replied. He nodded and hopped in the back next to Brad, who just silently and stared at the man as he attempted to make small talk.

"He doesn't say much," Taylor told him as she rubbed her hand on Brad's head.

When they returned to the ranch, Mike asked Stacy and Taylor to load up four baskets of produce from the gardens. "Jess, Brad and I are going to grab a lamb. We're going to take those folks some good food."

They got one of their largest lambs loaded up in a crate in the back of Mike's pickup, and put their baskets of produce beside the crate. "Why don't you and Brad stay here and cook up some dinner," Jessica said to Stacy. "Brad, you're the man of the ranch while we're gone, so you take charge of that grill, okay bud?" Brad gave a slight smile, then went stone-faced hoping to look more manly. He stood proud to be the "man of the ranch," as his mom had said. Taylor and Jessica slid into the truck and went to deliver the food with Mike.

It was still only mid-afternoon when they arrived back at the camp. Some of the men had their guns in hand, not recognizing the truck coming. "Bishop! Bishop Christensen!" Mike called out. Another man approached the truck.

"He should be back in just a few minutes," the man told them.

Mike pointed to the bed of the truck. "You guys want some food?" Jessica and Taylor got out of the truck and grabbed the baskets. The others in the group had overheard Mike's offer and gathered around. "I'm assuming at least one of you know how to tend to it?" Mike asked of the men. Several of them nodded and said they did as they hurried to unload the lamb.

As the men got to work killing and gutting the lamb, the Bishop walked up. He had a huge smile on his face as he saw what they had brought them. "Oh, praise the Lord!" he said excitedly. He looked at the trio who delivered the small feast. Jessica was holding Mike's left hand, standing at his side. Taylor was leaning her head against his shoulder. "Just neighbors I see," he remarked. Jessica and Taylor just looked at each other and smiled.

"I'd like to talk to you again if you've got a few minutes to spare," Mike asked of him. The two men stepped off to the side, while the ladies all hugged each other and made small talk. "Look, I've got a ranch the government hasn't taken over yet. I'm sure the man who used to take my livestock to market won't be coming back anymore. And we certainly have far more than we need to feed ourselves. We've got some big greenhouses and a few acres we keep planted as well."

"Oh fantastic," said the Bishop.

"Now, I'm going to tell you up front that we're well guarded up there. Any surprise visitors will be met with .50 caliber bullets well before anyone is close enough to be a threat to us. The way the road winds, we'll be firing while there's still a few miles of rough road to get to us."

"Understood," he replied.

"Good," Mike said firmly. "Now, do you think we could work something out with you and some other trustworthy people around the Saint George area to set up somewhat of an underground food network?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I've got a twenty-six foot livestock trailer I could bring animals down to you every few weeks or so. We could meet up here. I should be able to bring a few cattle down, half a dozen sheep, and at least a dozen goats every six weeks or so. We could also bring down whatever extra produce we used to sell. You bring your own trucks and trailers to take it all from us," Mike told him.

"And you want what from us in return?"

"Trust, and information. I want to trust that you'll keep me... keep us a secret. At any cost, don't let anyone outside of those helping with the pickup know about us. Also, to trust that you'll do the right thing with the food, and make sure that those who need it most get it. And you continually find out all the information you can, local and regional especially, and keep us informed." Mike paused and looked at everyone so excited for the meal they were preparing. "Anyone finds out about us, the food stops immediately. And I just might come looking for you."

"Absolutely," the Bishop happily replied. "I'll start talking to a few men I know I can confide in as soon as we get home tomorrow. When do you want to meet up again?"

"I'll see you here about the same time next week. Bring a truck. I won't have any animals with me, but I'll fill a bed with produce."

"Done." The Bishop stuck his hand out to shake Mike's, but Mike walked away. "Thank you so much for being willing to help out through all this!" Mike didn't say a word as he waved to the ladies that he was ready to leave.

"One last thing Bishop. Here's a radio. Climb to the top of that hill right there, and you should be able to get a signal to us. Other than a beep to let you knew we heard you, don't expect any response. And don't use it unless it's really damn important."

As he started to turn his truck around, the Bishop hurriedly waved him down to stop. "Excuse me, sir, but I didn't even catch your name?" he asked.

"Why don't you just call me Thomas Paine," Mike said, prompting the ladies to chuckle.

"Yeah, and I'm Taylor Paine, and this is Jessica Paine," Taylor added, laughing at the fake names.

Bishop Christensen just nodded and smiled. "A lot of common sense in using aliases. We'll see you next week."

"Nicely done, Taylor," Jessica said with noted sarcasm. "You practically introduced us both as his wives."

“No I didn't,” Taylor replied casually. “For all he knows I could be his sister.”

"Why the fake names anyways?" Taylor continued.

"Because, if the name 'Mike Williams' gets spread around with what we're doing, the government will just pull the county records and know right where to find us. And now that they have a first name for Jessica, we have to be sure not to give out Stacy's name."

"We're okay on that for now," Jessica said confidently. "We bought our property in Stacy's name. My name isn't on it."

Mike looked relieved at this news.

"So why 'Thomas Paine'?" Taylor wanted to know.

"I don't know, that's just the first name that came to mind. He's one of my favorite authors. He wrote 'Common Sense' back before the Revolutionary War to inspire people to want freedom and independence from Great Britain," he told her. "I've got a copy at the house. You should read it."

They all had dinner together at the ladies house that night. Brad was proud of his shish-kebabs he'd made, and Mike had him sit at the head of the table. Taylor spent more time talking about their trip to deliver the food than she did actually eating.  Mike, in as few words as he could, told the others about the arrangement he made with Bishop Christensen. Brad, following Mike's years of example, gave him a nod of approval. The ladies were very happy to hear about it. Taylor and Stacy were both excited about getting to talk with other people somewhat regularly.

After dinner, Jessica wrapped her arms firmly around Mike, looked up at him and said "You're a good man, Mike Williams. We're doing the right thing," and then she gave him a quick kiss.

"I'm tired," he said, as he walked towards the door to go home. Stacy grabbed his arm and pulled him over to hug him. "Thank you. I'm proud of you too."

Taylor walked past them, out the door, saying "I'm coming up to your place. I want to read that book you were telling me about."

They walked in the door of his house, and Mike went straight to the bookshelf. He pulled out 'Common Sense' and handed it to her as he made his way to bed. "Oh, this should be a quick read," she remarked. "I'm just going to sit here to read it tonight."

"You can take the little truck to go home when you're done if you want," he told her as he laid down.

Taylor yawned several times as she read the forty-eight pages. When she was done she sat there in a daze, staring at Mike sleeping soundly. She felt too tired to want to go home, so she took off her boots and pants, and crawled under the covers to cuddle up with him.

Chapter 5

Reluctant Leader

It was the last day of September. Fall was setting in, and it was starting to get pretty cold at night up on the mountain. Mike had been thinking about it for a few weeks, knowing this time of year was coming. His rammed earth house, with it's three foot thick walls, stayed pretty much the same temperature every day all day. The sun moving to the south warmed up the inside through the windows during the day, and the thermal mass of the home kept it comfortable at night without needing a fire until the most bitterly cold months.

The ladies house was well built by standard construction practices, but they were still complaining in the mornings about how cold it was getting inside. After tending to morning chores with Taylor and Brad, Mike went down with them to their house. "Good morning," he said as he walked in.

"Good morning," they returned.

"I've been thinking about something," he told the four of them. "You're all up at my home more than here most of the time, and you all spend the night on occasion anyways. I think I'd like the four of you to move in with me for the winter."

Stacy and Taylor squealed with excitement. Even Brad got excited by the idea, yelling "Yay! Can I have the loft for my bedroom?"

"Sure, boy," Mike told him. There were two lofts with an open area between them, but he knew Brad wanted the one to the east, above his room, with a view down the canyon.

"Mike, are you sure about this?" Jessica cut in, dampening everyone's mood. "I know you're used to us being around all the time. But are you sure you're ready to have us all there every night?" Jessica was nervous, but not about the idea of moving in.

"We'll be fine, Jess," he assured her. "Besides the daily living practical reasons, I do have another reason too. We know the government has gotten wind of our food program and been trying to stop it. Granted they could still find us up here, but not heating this house would slightly reduce our heat signature, for the thermal imaging they probably have in their drones. And I'd just really like to have y'all living up there with me."

Mike was making excuses for himself mostly. He wasn't all that concerned about drones. And his last comment again set Stacy's and Taylor's emotions into overdrive. Stacy was completely in love with Mike and knew he was the closest thing to a husband she'd ever have way up in the mountains. Jessica felt the same way, but still didn't throw herself at him the way Stacy did.

"Okay, so is that a yes?" he asked.

They all turned to look at Jessica. She gave her normal slight grin as she walked up to hug him. "I love you," was her answer.

"Alright. I know you don't need to bring too much. Your dressers and clothes should be it, right?"

"I think so," replied Jessica. "There's a lot we can leave down here and just come back as we need." She paused for a moment as the others got to work. "Can we talk for a minute?" she said quietly, motioning Mike outside.

"Is everything okay, Jess?"

"Um, well -" She was obviously nervous. "Um, I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant."

Mike didn't know what to do or say, but the eruption of cheers from Stacy and Taylor inside didn't leave him any chance to respond to her either. Mike and Jessica couldn't resist laughing at them as they excitedly rushed outside to celebrate. Brad, completely clueless as to what all the commotion was about, came outside as well. As usual, he said nothing, just walking up with a puzzled look on his face. Mike grabbed him into his side to hug him.

"Looks like someone's going to be a big brother!" Taylor shouted.

"Oh, this is so awesome!" Stacy added. "You're going to be the best big brother in history!"

"Hey, you two," Mike cut in. "Don't you have stuff to do?" letting them know to go away for a few minutes.

Taylor turned back as she was walking in the door, "Oh, hey, I think you're going to need a bigger house."

Mike, Jessica and Brad sat down together. Mike put his arm around her and squeezed her into him, kissing her forehead to reassure her that they were in this together. He looked over at Brad. "What do you think little man. Are you ready to have a little brother or sister?"

He smiled real big as he nodded his head up and down. Mike just rubbed his head. "Go on back inside so we can talk."

"Okay," Mike sighed. "Before we go getting so happy about this, um, how do we make sure you really are?"

Jessica just rolled her eyes at him. "I am pregnant. I've missed two periods, and there's nothing else going on that would explain that. Besides that, most women just tend to know what's happening inside our bodies. It's just like with Brad. I just knew then too. Except this time, at least I know who the father is." She still felt ashamed about not knowing who Brad's father was. It was the one and only thing from her prostitution days that she felt embarrassed about.

"Look,” Jessica continued, speaking more softly and glancing towards the house. “Stacy's all excited for us right now, but by tonight I'm betting she's going to be pretty upset."

"Why is that?" he asked.

"She can't have kids, Mike. She's infertile. Most of the time it doesn't bother her, but I'm sure it will some now."

"Oh, damn," Mike said. "I had no idea."

"Really, Mike? Don't you think that if she could have kids, she'd probably be out here with the same news?"

"Okay, okay. Give me a break. My whole few months of experience with women leaves me a bit naive sometimes still. Let's go get a move on and get things - Wait, are you going to be alright to do this? I can move your stuff for you. You just sit tight."

"Oh no. Don't you start pampering me. When I need help, I'll let you know. But I'm going to keep doing my part around here."

"Well, then get off your ass and get it in gear," he told her with a smirk. She got up, smacked him playfully on the arm, and got busy getting her things together.

Brad's stuff was the hardest to move, since they brought his bed and dresser, and had to get them into the loft. After lunch, Mike reminded them that they had to get food together for a drop off the next day. They got the animals they were taking into a pen, then loaded up twenty crates of produce and stacked them in the root cellar.

They met up with Bishop Christensen and his crew as normal the next day, except for Taylor staying behind at the ranch. The crew from Saint George had made a habit of loading the livestock and produce into ten to twelve trucks and trailers and taking different routes to their separate areas. The Bishop was eager to talk to Mike.

"Hey, Thomas. How's life in the shadows treating you?" he said in his normally jolly tone of voice.

"Well, we've had a lot going on. I think I'm going to need your help for a change," Mike told him.

"Oh, you name it and I'll find a way to make it happen."

"Well, we're pretty certain Jessica is pregnant."

"Congratulations man!" the Bishop grabbed his hand to shake it and laughed. "That's awfully neighborly of you!"

Mike had to make himself resist the urge to punch him. He'd thought about hitting him a few times in the past too, but just too see if he could not be so obnoxiously happy all the time.

"Well, Bishop, obviously we're going to end up with a need for a lot of baby stuff. And for us, making quick runs to the corner Walgreen's isn't exactly an option. So I'd like to start stocking up whatever we need soon."

"I'll have a truck load of boxes ready for you next time we meet. The government gives diapers away without question or taking off anyone's value. I'm sure we can come up with some other things that would help out through the pregnancy."

The Bishop turned towards his wife. "Hey, Susan, could you please come here?"

"What do you need Hun?" she asked. "We're kind of busy moving these crates and giving them back the old ones."

"Would you pull Mr. Paine's wife to the side and speak with her. They're expecting. See if you and the other ladies can start working on maternity clothes and finding out anything she wants or needs."

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Susan exclaimed. Jessica heard her and knew exactly what they were talking about. "Which wife?" she asked.

"We're not part of these polygamist groups ma'am. We're not religious at all," Mike quickly interjected, an annoyed tone in his voice. "It's Jessica who is pregnant."

"Yes, that's right," the Bishop said sarcastically. "They're all just neighbors."

Mike really wanted to hit him. "Well, as of yesterday, they all live with me now. That was just for convenience with winter around the corner."

"Look, Thomas, we don't judge how you guys live. And we don't care. A blind man can see that all three of those women love you. And your little boy over there is sure something to be proud of. Good kids don't happen by accident." The Bishop was more serious than Mike had ever heard him before. "We've got some other matters to discuss."

"Okay, shoot," Mike said.

"There's a lot going on," he began as they sat on Mike's tailgate. "Vegas is seeing a lot of fighting. Nevada ranchers traveled to the city to start fighting back after the BLM took over all the range cattle, with the well-known Hage and Bundy families leading the charge. Then the casinos shut down. Performers were refusing to work without real pay, and no one could use their value to gamble with so they lost their customers. It was rioting for the first week, but then they apparently started coordinating more structured attacks. From what I'm hearing, a lot of people have died and the feds are sending in troops."

"Wow," Mike said in amazement. "We've heard only of some 'disturbances' on the news."

"Oh there's more, Thomas," the Bishop continued. "There's a lot of people kicking up their own little news stations. Most of it's just local stuff. It's short lived reports since they're trying to avoid having their signals traced. But we've picked up some reports from all the way up in Richfield too, and some of what they're doing is relaying reports from Provo, Salt Lake, Grand Junction and even Denver."

"Yeah, we've heard a little bit of that, but not a lot. We've been pretty busy so we're just hoping to catch some of it when we're able to tune in. Harvesting and winter preparations have monopolized our time."

By this time Stacy, Jessica, Brad and Susan had all walked up, and the others had left with the food to deliver and livestock to process.

The Bishop went on, "Well, it seems most of the broadcasts happen at the top of the hour. They only last about ten minutes or so, and we never know what station they're going to be on. But maybe knowing that will help you guys be able to follow more of what's really happening."

Mike gave the Bishop a nod.

"Hey Mmm.... Thomas," Stacy spoke up, almost giving away Mike's real name. "What about that cool radio station thing you've got? You said you could send voice and computer stuff all over the world didn't you?"

He shot her a somewhat mean look. "Look, I don't know how involved in all this I want to be. Giving away food is fine, but that's it."

"You've got a radio station?" the Bishop asked, showing significant interest. "Well, before you reject the idea, I've got more to tell you. Word of you has gotten around. Now, don't be mad at me or anything over it, please. I swear I've never said a word outside of the crew that comes with me."

Mike was livid, and it was clear to anyone as his face went straight red and his breathing picked up. Stacy backed up, having never seen him angry like this, even when they'd first moved up to the mountain.

"Look, Mr. Paine, most of the info out there about you is way off. It's inaccurate and should never be able to lead anyone to find you. If anything makes me think any of you face any danger, I will find a way to let you know immediately."

Mike's redness faded away some and his breathing slowed.

Bishop Christensen continued. "It's not just the food. The rumor mill is in full swing. The name 'Thomas Paine' is on most people's tongues. Some think you're the former governor using an alias, from before the feds shut down the state government. Most seem to think you're a retired army general. But the one thing everyone seems to believe: you're here, and you're capable of leading a successful resistance against the government," he concluded with a half-hearted smile.

"What a bunch of bull shit!" Mike said angrily and dismissive. "Dammit, I don't mind dropping off food to help out some every few weeks, but that's it. I just want to live my life in seclusion. Enjoy my peace."

Jessica grabbed Mike by the hand. "Hey, look at me. Don't be mad. You know in your heart we're safe. Yes, we enjoy our peace. You've given us a terrific life even in the worst imaginable time. All he's asking is that you think about doing something to help bring peace, or maybe some freedom, back into everyone's life. Just think about it."

Stacy grabbed his shoulder from behind. "I agree. Think about it."

Mike looked down at Brad sitting there soaking up every word. He looked back up, and gave Mike their nod.

"Oh, so you're against me too huh?" Mike said to him with a hint of humor in his voice.

"Excuse me, Mr. Paine," Susan wanted to get her two cents in. "I'm fifty-seven years old, and in my fifty-seven years, I've never seen a name bring hope to people's faces like yours does. Even without seeing your strong and imposing stature, just your voice conveys power and authority. A word from you, and people will listen. An idea from you, and everyone will listen. Please, give this some thought."

Mike started to walk away. He really didn't want to talk anymore. "Mr. Paine, there's still more I think you should know about," the Bishop added.

"Damn! What!?" Mike said loudly.

"There's a lot of talk about actively fighting back. And I know you don't want to hear it, but it's inspired by the rumors about you."

"No!" insisted Mike. "We can't provide enough food for people to fight back against the hand that feeds them, and right now that hand is the federal government. They fight back, those who aren't killed by the biggest and best armed police and military force on the planet will die of starvation. No!"

"Well, that's not entirely true, sir," the Bishop knew he was pushing the wrong buttons, but he felt he had to finish. "John Otis, from Cedar City, came to see me a few days ago. Someone told him that I was the contact to you."

"Shit! You're supposedly trustworthy friends are going to get me killed!" Mike interrupted.

"He said that he was working with all the regional farmers. John's got thousands of acres around Cedar, Enoch, and Parowan. He said the Holder Family was on board too, and they've got huge farms around Newcastle and Beryl that supply grain and milk. According to him, they got together with several big farms as far north as Beaver. When the crash first happened, they all moved and hid a lot of their herds in the mountains. At first they were concerned about mobs from the bigger cities traveling to this area to steal food. But then they kept them hidden because the government was stealing from them. They've agreed that if we're – you're - able to lead a resistance and win, they can feed everyone along I-15 from Beaver to Mesquite, and still have some left over for trade."

"It's not going to happen!" Mike said firmly as he walked away.

It was a longer drive than normal for him getting back home. He felt like the weight of the world had just been placed on his shoulders, and he wasn't happy about it.

Mike was quiet and withdrawn the rest of the day. He scanned the radio channels at the top of every hour, finding multiple broadcasts every time. Not much news that he hadn't just been made aware of, but he knew this was going to become a regular routine for him from now on.

"Are you going to be okay?" Taylor asked him. Jessica and Stacy had filled her in on all that the Bishop had to say.

"Eventually. I hope I haven't taken my bad mood out on any of you," he said.

"Nope. You're fine. We all understand. We rocked your world moving up here. It got rocked even more after the collapse. Now you've found out that Jess is pregnant, then had city folks ask you to shake up life even more, all in barely more than twenty-four hours. Just know that we all love you, and we'll be proud of you no matter what you decide."

She sat in Mike's lap and hugged him. They sat there silent for quite a while when he noticed it was time to scan the radio again. He reached over to pick up the radio, and found a broadcast almost immediately.

"Okay listeners," the voice said. "We've got some new news for everyone. Word is that riots broke out in Los Angeles a few hours ago. There are apparently hundreds, if not thousands, of homes and businesses burning. The Guard has merged with LAPD to suppress the violence, but so far the more they try to stop it, the more it grows."

"Jess! Stacy! Come out here," Taylor yelled.

Stacy came out and said "Jess fell asleep with Brad. What's going on?"

"Hush! Listen," Mike said abruptly.

The voice on the radio continued. "We're hearing similar reports out of several major cities. Phoenix, Chicago, Memphis, Atlanta, Miami, and all along the northern east coast. All state and local police forces, as well as several federal police divisions, are being merged with the Guard. There are also rumors that many in the military are starting to abandon their posts. This doesn't appear to be too widespread yet, but it seems that those who intended to protect our freedom aren't willing to follow orders to oppress our freedoms. Signing off now before they track me down. Until tomorrow!"

Taylor rested her head on Mike's shoulder. "This is all getting so crazy. You were right Mike, civil war is next."

"You said that?" Stacy asked.

He sighed. "Yes, I think I did."

"Look, don't get mad at me, but it seems to me that someone who knew this was all going to happen years ahead of time, and knew the steps that it would progress through, needs to be the voice people can follow to navigate their way through this mess." Stacy leaned over and kissed them both on the forehead. "I'm going to bed. You two don't stay out here much longer. I don't want you getting sick in this cold."

They sat for another thirty minutes in the cold and dark silence of the night. Eventually, Taylor got up, took Mike by the hand, and insisted he come to bed. "Leave it be for tonight. Any new news you sleep though will still be making news in the morning. Come on."

The next morning Mike woke up early and tried to slide himself out of bed gently so as not to wake Taylor. He got dressed in his long johns with a heavy coat, knowing it was very cold outside. With the faint moonlight to guide his way, he walked up to the mountain top to sit and try to make sense of what his life had become, and the situation at hand. He sat down against his antenna tower, the sound of his wind generator blades spinning overpowering everything else in a strangely peaceful manner.

About two hours later, Jessica came up to check on him. It was still freezing cold, but the sun had started to bring first light over the distant horizon. She had a mug of hot mint tea to help warm his body, and sat down with him.

"How in the world did I get here?" he asked.

"If you're talking about walking up here to freeze to death, then I might need to worry about how the cold is effecting your brain," she replied sarcastically, hoping to lighten his mood.

"You know what I mean," he returned. "Eleven years ago I moved up here to leave society in my past. I only saw other people a handful of times per year. I had never really carried on a meaningful conversation in my life, and was content to never have to. I'd never felt love, received or given. I was just going to live the 'Jeremiah Johnson' life until I died unnoticed."

Jessica just sat and listened, to let him unburden his mind.

"Now look at me. I'm kind of a dad to a great kid. I've got another kid on the way... with one of two women I'm sleeping with."

"Two?" Jessica said curiously. "What about Tayl -"

"NO, no, no, no, no," he interrupted her.

"Really? Huh. But she sleeps in there with you as much as Stacy does," she inquired. "Little old me just gets leftovers once a week or so," she continued with a fake pouty face and a giggle.

"No, when Taylor sleeps in my room, it's just that. Sleep. She'll cuddle up with me and we're both out like a light in no time. I just kinda of go with the flow and let y'all decide whatever. You don't feel left out do you?"

"Nah. I like the sex, but it's just not a big deal to me. I know what we have is something different. Something deeper. I mean, I'm the one you opened up to about your past and everything. I'll always be your first kiss." She continued half jokingly, "And I'm the one with icicles on my tits listening to you complain about getting to sleep with two women." He grinned and she laughed. "As weird as it is, I just understand you. And when I'm too old to want it, and you're too old to give it, I know we'll still have something special."

"It's just all still weird to me," he said.

"Well," she jokingly added, "would it make you feel any better if I told you you weren't the first man we've ever shared?" She watched him roll his eyes and smirk. She was intent on cheering him up, and it seemed to be working. "Of course, you're the only man who's ever not paid a small fortune per hour for that. The first we both fell in love with. And you're the only one who we both want to spend our lives growing old with. And besides, we're two hot, vivacious women, and you're the only man for a hundred miles," she said, laughing again at her last wise crack.

"So anyways," he tried to change the subject. "Now I'm somehow supposed to help lead the way to destroying order and restoring the chaos of freedom? Me? A hermit who escaped society, is somehow the one people look to for hope. And it's not even the real me. I still can't find the words to tell any of you how I feel about you, yet I'm being asked to find the words to inspire the masses?"

"Mike, we know how you feel. I know Stacy wishes you would say it. But for me, and Brad, well, we know it by your actions. And actions always speak louder than words. Taylor just wants you to be you. Her big teddy bear.”

They sat quietly together watching the sunrise for a while before Jessica broke the silence. "Well, you know you're going to do this. So are you ready to stop trying to get pneumonia first and get started."

"How do you know I'm going to do this?" he replied, knowing she was right.

"Because, you're that man who just does the right thing. Whether it's taking firewood to some intruding whores, or delivering food to a man so irritatingly happy even Mr. Rogers would want to slap him. You always do the right thing." She got up and held her hand out to him to help him up.

"I think my leg's froze solid," he joked as he tried to get up.

"Come on, Mike. Let's get over here into your secret bat-cave and get you started."

They walked down the hill and into the cave. The warmth of the cave was a very welcome relief. Not that it was really all that warm inside there either, but after an hour for her, and three hours in the below freezing wind for him, it was a very pleasant change.

He stood at his base station and turned it on. "I don't even know where to start. What to say," he said, looking at her. She was taking off her coat and sweater. Then she slid off her boots.

"Why don't you start back here," she said, opening the hidden door. "Let's finish getting your mind cleared, and your body warmed up first." She bit her lip as she turned from him and walked towards the bunk room.

"Um, yeah. I like that idea," he said, following her.

A little while later, Mike was sitting at the base station, going over the computer controls to refresh himself on using his equipment. Jessica was warming up some canned soup on a camp stove he kept in the supply room. She sat quietly and supportively as he started trying to record his own voice. She didn't understand why he wouldn't just send out a broadcast, but knew he had to do this how he felt was best.

"Thomas Paine Radio," he said into his microphone. After a long pause, he spoke again.

"Live, with Thomas Paine." Again a long pause.

"The Freedom Show, with Thomas Paine."

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I dunno. Trying to come up with a good intro recording to start each broadcast," he said.

"Just stick with the first one. It's simple, and not too cheesy."

"Um, okay." He was hesitant, but trusted her, and didn't have any other ideas himself anyways.

"Hello, listeners, I'm Thomas Pai..."

"Welcome to the first broadca...."

"Dammit."

"Calm down, Mike," she told him as she grabbed the sides of his face. "Close your eyes. Take a deep breath." She hesitated briefly, then kissed his forehead. "Now, be yourself. No bullshit. Just get to the point."

"Tensions are high," he began. "And they should be. A couple of months ago, a collection of complex events outside of all of our control thrust us all into a new way of living. And for many of us, we've come to see life as 'us against the government.' We're wrong to look at it like that. The residents of our small towns, and big cities alike, look at the guardsmen and soldiers as the government. We look at that camouflage uniform, and we see someone with freedom, who's taking our freedom away. But that man holding his government-issued gun is no more free than anyone else. He's told what to wear, what to eat, when to eat, and who to hurt. He's an individual, just as deserving of freedom as any man, woman or child.

“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."

He held a straight face and nodded, then turned and walked over to the Bishop, who was struggling to put weight on his right leg.

The ladies walked over to Susan, who had froze up as her husband was attacked. She was scared to leave the two men to talk until she saw that Mike seemed more calm.

"Don't worry," Jessica reassured her. "He's going to behave himself."

"You're going to be alright," Mike told him.

"Oh, yeah. I'll be fine. I'm sorry about all that," the Bishop apologized.

Mike knew he should apologize too, but just nodded instead. "My fuse has been a bit short recently with all I've been hearing on the radio."

"Really? I would have figured you'd be happy."

"Why in the hell should I be happy about so much attention being drawn to me?"

"How much have you been listening?" the Bishop asked. "You've really made a difference. Granted, I was hoping for more of a message of resistance than restraint. But the guardsmen have been listening too and they're starting to relax on a lot of the rules. Or at least on enforcing them."

Mike didn't know anything about this. "In all honesty, I've barely followed anything. I turned the radio on briefly yesterday and heard some jackass calling me a general. I know NANN was supposedly going to do some report last night, but we got sidetracked by some stuff and missed it."

"Oh, yeah, I know that kid. He means well."

"The little dipshit's going to get us killed if he keeps it up."

"I'll talk to him later today. He knows I really do know you. I'll let him know he's gotten on your bad side with those comments. He's just young and hoping to see everything go back to normal overnight."

Mike just stood there with a scowl on his face.

"Well Thomas," he continued, "things have really gotten better over the last week. We had some guardsmen over for dinner last night. I served them steaks from cattle we got from you. Don't worry, I told them nothing about you. We just made small talk about how we hated that all this was happening. You were right on in your message. These guys don't want to be doing this anymore than we do," he paused.

"Tom, you're words really registered with people. I've seen it first hand in Cedar City, too. And my friend in Provo I told you about is saying the same thing. The fighting is subsiding nationwide. That's what you wanted, and you made it happen."

Mike was starting to feel very humbled.

"And don't worry for now about the government. According to those guardsmen, the rumors within their ranks are that you're one of them, just posing in order to keep the peace."

"Did NANN do that report I heard about?" Mike asked, breaking a brief silence.

"NANN's report last night didn't make any claims about you really. They played your recording and acknowledged you're real. They said it was probably a fake name, but that 'little was known about you at this point.' Talking about the violence calming down and things returning to normal was really the focus of it."

The Bishop was trying to make Mike feel at ease with it all, hoping he'd do another recording. "I don't think you have anything to be concerned about at all Tom. So many people are playing that recording now that they couldn't begin to try to figure out which signal is yours."

That gave Mike an idea. "Hey, Bishop, how many of these radio guys do you know?"

"Um, six. I know two in Saint George, one in Veyo, one in Enterprise, and two in Cedar City."

"Oh, so you don't know any over in Vegas or up around Salt Lake?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure that at least a few of them have contacts in the city. Why? What do you have in mind?"

"I'm wondering if I could make a recording, and instead of broadcasting it from my place, give it to you to give to them. If it came from several different places at the same time, there wouldn't be any risk of them trying to track me by my radio signal."

"Oh, okay. That's a good idea! So you're planning a second recording then huh?"

"I haven't decided yet. But that would make me a lot more comfortable if I were to do it. Can you talk to them and see if they're up for it?"

"Come on, we need to get back to the house, now," Jessica insisted, as she walked up and pulled on Mike's arm. Taylor and Stacy had boxes in their hands they were loading up.

"He's just fine," Mike reassured her about Brad, but thinking the same thing in his mind.

"One last thing, Bishop," Mike said. "We need new wheels and tires for this old beast," patting the hood. "Here, let me write out what we need. Find out if you can get them, and what it's going to cost me in trade."

"I know we can come up with something. You know Tom, if you let me tell a friend of mine they're for you, he's not going to be willing to accept anything in trade."

"No. I pay my way. Can we meet in three days back here?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Okay, we've got to get home. The little one has the ranch to himself right now and Jess is going to have a heart attack if we don't get moving."

The Bishop laughed, but stopped in surprise as Mike reached out to shake his hand. "Hey, you're warming up to me. That's progress."

Stacy chimed in "Don't expect any more than that. It took us years before we could touch him much."

"Oh, well, I'm not looking to be that neighborly," he joked. "A handshake is plenty enough for me."

As they headed home, the ladies were digging through the boxes, commenting on what clothes were cute or not. Jessica held up some pants saying "Oh, I hope I don't get that big!" Taylor was thumbing through some books they were given on midwifery and childbirth with complete fascination. Mike just wanted out of the truck.

Three days later, Mike and Taylor were sitting on his tailgate, waiting on Bishop Christensen to arrive. They were huddled up tightly together to stay warm as snow started to lightly fall.

"He needs to hurry up," Mike said. "I know we were a little early, but he's late."

"Mike, can we talk?" Taylor asked.

"What's on your mind?" he inquired.

"I just... um... I don't know. I used to imagine growing up, meeting a good man, getting married and having kids. All that good stuff,” she stumbled through saying.

“Um, okay,” Mike slowly said, wondering where she was taking this.

“Well, now, I just can't imagine ever leaving our mountain. Especially since the crash and everything collapsing. I guess, well, I don't know. I just wonder... Oh, there he is.”

Taylor stopped abruptly, seeing the Bishop coming around the corner, and Mike felt relieved, since he had no clue at all what to say to her.

Mike was thrilled to see the Bishop had what he needed for the Suburban. Four new Goodyear MTRs, 10-ply, with Kevlar, 33x12.5 R16 on all brand new wheels. "Perfect!" Mike exclaimed. "Why don't you back up tailgate to tailgate and we'll get them moved over." Mike tossed a CD in the Bishop's front seat. "You know what to do with that."

"Sure thing. Here, this is for you," he replied as he handed him a laptop and a folded up piece of paper. "That's some information from the radio man I trust the most. He said you'd know what to do with it. He loved your idea of spreading around a single recording for a coordinated play and thinks he can arrange it to hit most of the big cities out west at the same time."

Mike nodded. "As long as there's not a traceable link to my identity or location, it sounds good to me." He patted the hood of the Bishop's truck. "Let's get these tires moved. It's cold. What do I owe for them?"

This time the Bishop decided it was his turn to answer with silence, but Mike wasn't accepting it. "What do I owe!" he demanded.

"Tom, you're good. He wanted cigarettes, since the government banned them a few months ago. Obviously I wouldn't have any, but one of the men who picks up the animals with me is a smoker and had stocked up. He figured the tires were for you since I was being kind of evasive, so he promised him five cartons."

"I've got tons of cigarettes at the house. None of us smoke. I just bought them for bartering. I'll bring a dozen cartons with me next time."

"That's not -"

"Shut up! Look, they're for bartering. You can pay the guy back, hang on to them until there's another need, or trade them for something else useful. I don't care. We've got a few hundred cartons stored up, and no need for them."

Bishop Christensen knew better than to argue about it, so he just nodded.

"Go home and get warm," Mike told him. "Thank you for the help here."

"Anything for you, Thomas!"

He was almost dreading the conversation he knew was coming as he and Taylor started heading back home.

“Alright, so anyways,” she picked up where she left off, “I guess I just feel confused now abut my future. Does that make sense?”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Well, like, I love what we have. Not only cuddling every now and then, but everything. Working together as a family on everything we do. I love farming. I love where we live. I love our weird family life.”

“Well, then what's the problem?” Mike asked, feeling like it was a stupid question before he even finished saying it.

“I know I'm going to want more. I mean, with Jess expecting, it already kind of makes me want a baby, too. And I'm not saying I want a more intimate relationship with you, or right now. I guess I just don't see how I'm going to have that for me one day.”

It was snowing hard when they returned home. Taylor tried to hurry out of the truck, but Mike grabbed her arm. "Taylor, I know this isn't easy. We've got a baby on the way already, and with everything being the way it is, let's all get through that first. You're going to be just as much of a mother to it as Stacy has been to Brad."

Taylor just looked at him with a sad but hopeful look in her watery eyes as she slightly smiled.

He continued, "You realize that I was in my thirties before I realized what it meant; what it felt like, to love someone, or to be loved by someone? You've been loved your whole life. You're part of a family that you know loves you."

Taylor gave Mike a hug. She was finally smiling as she said "Thank you. You're right. Now, let's get inside before the rest of my ass freezes off."

"So you're okay now?"

"I will be once I defrost," she quipped as she bolted from the truck to the house.

That night, as he was getting ready for bed, Jessica came in to talk to him. "I hear you're getting pretty good at handling our womanly mood swings," she said with a smile.

"Ugh!” he groaned. “It's not even been two weeks yet since y'all moved in, has it? Maybe I should have thought this through better." Mike had a big smirk across his face, just waiting to be playfully attacked.

"I heard that!" Stacy exclaimed as her and Taylor came in to back Jessica up.

"Shhh! Brad's asleep," he reminded them.

"And he's a heavy sleeper," Jessica said as she handed the other two each a pillow.

Mike looked around at them. He sighed as he let himself collapse on the bed, getting hit twice by the pillows before finishing his fall.

They all woke up the next morning on the floor by the wood stove to the sound of the Bishop's voice. "If you can hear me, it's tonight at six."

Mike groaned. "Of all the voices to be the first thing I hear in the morning, why his?"

Again he repeated "If you can hear me, it's tonight at six."

"Oh my God, will he please shut up!" Stacy said with loud groan.

"Will one of you hand me that damn radio so I can send a beep and make him go away?" Mike asked.

All three women jumped up quickly. Stacy couldn't bring over the radio quick enough. Mike showed them all which button to use to answer it.

"What's tonight at six?" Taylor asked. "Does this have to do with that CD you gave him yesterday?"

"A CD, Mike?" Jessica asked.

"It's too damn early!" Mike said. He didn't want to think about that stuff when he'd not even stood up yet.

Stacy and Taylor reached down to help him up. The first thing he noticed was what looked like close to a foot of snow on the ground, and it was still coming down.

"Damn. Winter's here," he sighed.

Jessica volunteered to cook breakfast as Taylor climbed into the loft to wake up Brad. Mike slowly dragged himself to his room to start layering on the clothes to go tend to the animals. "Man I love farming," he said. "But sometimes it sure would be nice to take a day off."

Stacy went out with him for morning chores. She didn't really help, but she seldom did. She just talked while he silently did his work. They all spent the rest of the day playing a long game of Monopoly by the stove and just enjoying a lazy day. But as the sun started setting, Jessica remembered Bishop Christensen's message that morning.

"Oh yeah, what's happening at six?" she asked him. "And what's this about a CD?"

Mike tried to ignore her for a minute, but knew that he wasn't going to get away with it this time. "I made a CD the other day. Another recording. Instead of me putting it out with our radio, I gave him a CD of it. The plan was to spread it around to several people for them all to play at the same time. Supposedly it's going to air in several cities, I guess in about an hour."

"Oh, you ass! Why didn't you tell us?" replied Stacy.

"Because now he's going to have to listen to it," Taylor answered with a smirk.

The next hour went by way too quickly for Mike. He tried laying in bed, hoping to fall asleep early, before a broadcast of his voice was going to be turned on. That didn't work out for him like he wanted.

The time came, and they all huddled around the radio. All but Mike, who chose to stay in bed.

"Thomas Paine Radio," Mike heard his voice fill the house, even though he wasn't talking. Taylor had grabbed a second radio to continue scanning channels while they listened to the first channel they found. NANN was the only broadcast she could find that wasn't playing his latest recording.

"I am encouraged to hear, from both the state-run NANN media, and independent broadcasters alike, that much of the violence has subsided. Willingness to fight for freedom is most honorable when actual fighting is reserved until other options exist no more. I am seeing residents and guardsmen, the oppressed and the oppressors, talking and sharing meals together. While the reward of having great character may seem to posses little value in trying times, it is that character that will be what delivers you out of hardships.

“During this time of calm, put in the effort to think. Think about what it is you seek. What is it you were willing kill for just last month? Freedom? The all American catch-phrase. Does this word, 'freedom,' even have any meaning left to us. Have we honestly considered just what freedom really is? I know that I firmly believed, back when I wore a uniform in military service, that I was there serving the higher purpose of freedom. And it was a difficult turning point in life when I realized that if anything, I was doing the very opposite. Did you have freedom before the crash? Did you have liberty before the death of the dollar?

“Here are some thoughts to consider, and remember that these applied as much to your local and state governments as to the federal:

“You had the freedom to travel, as long as you passed TSA screening, or received permission to drive a government-approved vehicle, and paid the government a tax on whichever mode of transportation you selected.

“You had the freedom to get married, and divorced, as long as you got permission from the government in the form of a license.

“You had the freedom to build and/or modify your own home on your own land, as long as you got permission from the government before, during and after the project, and paid them an annual tax to prevent them from confiscating it.

“You had the freedom to work, as long as you weren't willing to work for less than a government-approved wage, and gave the government part of your earnings.

“You had a limited freedom to buy what you want, as long as you paid the government a percentage of what you were spending.

“You had the freedom to communicate privately, as long as it wasn't by the phone, mail or internet.

“You had the freedom to consume whatever you wanted into your body, as long as you choose something the government approved of.

“You had the freedom to arm and defend yourself, except against the government.

“You had the freedom to start your own business, as long as you got a government license, and in most cases, served as a government tax collector.

“You had the freedom to say whatever you want, as long as the government didn't perceive it as a threat, or you weren't exposing wrongdoing by the government.

“You had the freedom to practice your religious beliefs as you wished, as long as it wasn't on government property or during a government sanctioned event, or contrary to government-approved moral standards.

“Was this real freedom that you enjoyed before the crash? Or did you really live under a perception of freedom? Many are thinking right now that you once did many of these things without the government's interference in your freedom, but did you really? Did you do them legally, or were you risking fines or arrest?

“Many others, most certainly those who support the structure that a large and oppressive government brings, will call me an anarchist. They will claim that I'm encouraging you to destroy the government. They are liars, fooled by the very concept of government which they support. Government does have a purpose.

“On the broader scale, we hear almost daily about the threats made against us by China and Russia, and only the coordinated efforts of the individuals forming our government can defend our lives and property against the foreign threat. At the smallest levels, there are neighbors among us who would do us harm. Who would murder us over shoes or rape our wives and our daughters. And it is only through structure that we can seek honest and pure justice, less tainted by our emotions.

“But these functions of government do not require the destruction of liberty to live under a perception of freedom. Put in the effort to think. We can have both freedom and order. Do you want natural liberty or perceived freedom?

“Freedom isn't free. But the cost of freedom is not just the health and lives of those of us who have or will wear a uniform. The cost of freedom is consequence. The cost of freedom is prosperity, and poverty. The cost of freedom is safety, and danger. The cost of freedom is taking the risks of freedom. Are you willing to accept the risks and the consequences? Put in the effort to think."

There was a brief moment of silence before a woman's voice was heard saying "Ladies and gentlemen, that was the latest from Thomas Paine," before the radio fell silent.

Chapter 7

Trespassers

As winter continued to set in more, they all settled into a new routine. They had made their last food delivery just before Thanksgiving and let the Bishop know that they wouldn't be back until spring. Mike had his animals moved to the south slope on the north of his property. Every morning, Brad and Mike would tend to the animals in the barn while Stacy and Taylor would clear snow off the original greenhouse that was heated and still providing them with fresh fruits and vegetables, even when it was thirty below zero outside. Jessica, as she got bigger from the new life growing in her, would stay inside and prepare breakfast for everyone.

They all would take turns helping Brad with his education. He was encouraged to pick subjects that interested him, to study aside from his basic skills, and with the help of Mike's book collection, he seldom came up with a subject they didn't have a book about. For his birthday, on the 2nd of November, he asked if they could find him his own .270 rifle. He knew Mike's first rifle was his .270, and he hoped they'd agree he was ready to move up from his little single-shot .22 LR.

Since getting his first air rifle at age six, and his .22 rifle at eight, Brad had shown himself to be an excellent shot. His naturally calm and attentive demeanor paid off well for him in shooting with a steady, patient, and focused hand. Spending time since he was three watching Mike shoot at his range, Brad developed his own love for the hobby. It wasn't a .270, but Brad wasn't the least bit disappointed when Mike gave him one of his customized .223 rifles for Christmas that year, though Jessica was clearly less than thrilled.

They spent their downtime playing games, reading, or discussing ideas for a either expanding the house they now all shared, or building a new one where they could continue living together. Mike had suggested the thought early on of building them each their own house next to his, but the women shot him down before he could finish his sentence, insisting they all stay together under the same roof. It was a struggle for him, but Mike eventually just accepted that he was going to be building whatever it was they decided he would build.

He gave them certain aspects he would insist on for energy efficiency, and a date of April 1st that he was going to start building something, but left the rest up to them. He was determined that this would be their only winter when two of the three women slept on the couches. As for the house sitting down the hill, they didn't have any clue what they would do with it, but they did know they weren't moving back.

Mike also got in the habit of recording a weekly message under his alias and sending it via packet radio to be broadcast every Friday evening. Sometimes it would be a personal message about peace and freedom, and other times he would read from the writings of America's Founding Fathers, and other historical philosophers who shared his beliefs about liberty. The holiday season seemed to go a long way in helping to settle the mood in the general public, and put a damper on the rhetoric of the more aggressive independent broadcasters.

Their winter routine was going pretty well. Cabin fever was hitting them a little bit, but they'd find ways to shake the blues. But on the morning of February 3rd, their routine got shaken up. That morning, Brad was more verbal than he had ever been. "Daddy!" he yelled. "Daddy, I think they've found us!" He kept yelling as Taylor fell off the couch in surprise, and Jessica struggled to sit up on the other couch. Stacy came running out of Mike's room, wrapped in just a blanket, asking what the commotion was about. "The government found us!" Brad yelled "They're coming to shut down his radio show."

"HUSH!" Mike yelled at the top of his voice. He came stumbling out of his room behind Stacy, pulling a flannel on over his t-shirt. "Calm down, son."

Brad took a deep breath and tried to stay quiet.

"Did you see guardsmen out your window? I didn't hear anything," Mike added, feeling kind of foolish that he was forgetting how well the rammed earth walls blocked out noises.

"No sir," Brad said more calmly. "They're camped out across the canyon. I can see the smoke from a campfire," Brad continued as he followed the adults to the front windows. "Not out there. It's up that way," he said, pointing towards the northeast. "I had to think at first," he kept going. "Nobody has cabins over there that we know of. And there's been nothing to start a wildfire. Plus, it doesn't look like it's getting bigger. So it's got to be their campfire,"

"That's enough son," Mike said. "I'll check it out."

"Who the hell would be out there with a fire going?" Jessica wondered out loud. "There's like three feet of snow on the ground."

"You're not going out there alone," Stacy insisted, with some obvious fear in her voice.

"You're right, he's not," Taylor said as she started bundling up. "Brad, get our 9mm's and four extra magazines each. Stacy, grab an AR and three pairs of magazines for each of us." She was surprisingly calm and confident, yet determined as she dished out orders.

Mike just stared at her in shock as the other two went to doing as they were told.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Okay, Commander Blondie," he joked. "You ready for a long walk down a cold road?" he asked as he grabbed his guns from Brad and Stacy.

"You two be careful out there!" Jessica said, with anxiety obvious in her voice.

"Don't worry, Jess," Taylor assured her. "We got this."

Mike was now wondering if Taylor was too confident. He walked over and gave Jessica and hug and kiss. "I'm sure it's nothing," he said as he turned to Stacy to give her a hug and kiss as well. "Okay, Brad, you're the man of the house until I - until we get back." He patted Brad on the head as the boy saluted him. They all laughed for a moment, before Mike and Taylor headed out the door.

"Alright, I think we should head over to the barn like we do every morning. We can toss over a few flakes of hay so we know the animals are good, then head around back and follow the tree line down the canyon. There's nowhere to hide once we're down there, but it'd be hard to see down from that side even in good weather."

She was practically giving him orders now as he looked at her in astonishment. "Then we can cut up around there," she said pointing at a rock formation on the hillside, "and about fifty yards back up in those trees we should be able to see whoever is over there."

Mike wrapped his arms around her. "Where in the hell did this side of you come from?" he asked.

"Really, Mike?" She slightly rolled her eyes and continued with an overstated sarcastic tone of voice. "I've been reading your military history and strategy books since I was thirteen. I could command an army!"

They followed her plan and were able to get about fifty yards from a make-shift campsite. They both had binoculars, and began searching for guardsmen. Neither was seeing anything around the area where the fire was. They couldn't see the fire either due to some bushes.

"I'm going to sneak over there," Taylor whispered.

Mike shook his head no and pulled her closer to him by her arm. "I'm pretty sure this wouldn't be a guard camp. I mean look at this. A small fire at around 7800 ft elevation. There's no sign any vehicles of any kind having been around. They've not even tried to get to the clearing where they could signal for help if they were lost or trapped. No, these aren't the Guard. It's probably some hunters trying to poach. Either way, they're on our land."

Taylor smiled big again. "Our land. I like the sound of that."

"Mike barely smirked at her and continued. "You come around over here so they can't head for the clearing, and I'm going to circle over to that pine tree so their path to the road is blocked too. You don't make a sound unless they try to get the upper hand on me. Then let them know you could drop them before they could try to turn around."

Taylor nodded to acknowledge she understood.

"Taylor, if it does come down to having to shoot someone, can you do it?"

She stared at him very confidently for a moment. "If you're in danger, I know I won't hesitate," she assured him.

They got around to their positions and aimed their guns in the general direction of the fire. They still could not see anyone. "Get up, hands in the air," Mike said loudly. "I said get up! You're trespassing on my land!"

Everything was still and quiet.

As Mike was about to start walking toward the fire he heard a sound. He hesitated and waited to hear it again. A few seconds later, there it was again.

"What the hell is..," Mike mumbled softly. He thought quickly to himself "that almost sounds like... like a kid crying." He walked as quickly as he could to the fire. "Oh shit!" he screamed. "Taylor, get over here, now!"

Taylor froze as she got to Mike and looked down. There lying in nearly a five foot deep hole in the snow were two boys, probably in their early to mid teens, two older women who looked to be in their thirties or forties, and five younger children ranging in age from an infant, to what looked to be about an eight or nine year old girl.

Mike immediately went to checking for a pulse on each of them. "Throw some more of that wood on that fire and get out the space blankets!" Mike was now barking the orders. "I think they're all alive, but only barely. Do all you can to help warm them up. Take that baby and bundle it up in your coat against your body. I'm going to radio home."

Mike rushed over to the clearing to radio back to the house. He told them all to drop what they were doing. Since Jessica was the better driver, he told her to get his big truck, an '82 Chevy lifted on forty-inch tires, and drive around to as close to the fire as she thought she could get. He told Brad and Stacy to take the snowmobile down to their old house and get a fire started to warm it up. He was so focused on telling them what to do that he completely forgot to tell them why until Jessica asked.

Jessica did the best she could once she got help getting in to the large truck. But she'd never driven through such deep snow before, and with the steering wheel pressed against her stomach, it took her a while to get there. Mike was eagerly waiting on her by the side of the road. He had her stay in the truck, but on the passenger side, with two little kids he picked up and handed to her. She was fighting back the tears, praying they wouldn't die in her arms.

Taylor was talking to one of the women who was barely coherent when Mike returned for two more kids. "Taylor, get that baby to the truck so Jessica can help warm it up, then get back over here for that little girl," he said, pointing to the oldest of the younger kids. "Ma'am, we're doing the best we can. We've got a truck over there to get you all to safety." He wasn't sure if she heard him as she appeared to pass out.

Stacy and Brad had cleared a lot of the snow out of the bed of the truck, and Mike got the two remaining little kids back there. "Taylor, stay up here with them. The last thing we need is for them to wake up and panic." He knew the odds were against them waking up at all.

"Mike," Taylor said, interrupting his rush to go back for the older boys and women. "That woman said that no matter what happens, don't call 911."

"You see a phone out here?" he said, a bit annoyed that she delayed him by a few seconds.

Mike's bad hips were aching horribly as he tried to get back, and he was starting to fear they were going to buckle under him, leaving Taylor to drag five grown people to the truck. As he got back, he found them all, except for one of the women, awake. They were clearly weak and disoriented. It took a few minutes before any of them felt they had the strength to walk. Mike had to help them each out of the hole, and the two young men did their best to help him get the unconscious woman out.

"A hundred yards or so, okay?" he said to them as he lifted the woman up to the fireman's carry position. They just gave him a blank stare as he prayed for his hips to hold out.

Taylor helped them all get in the truck, then had to help Mike crawl up in to drive back. What would have only been a mile walk in better weather was a three-mile drive through deep snow and a bitterly cold wind. Mike was just as concerned for Taylor riding in the back as he was for all the little kids.

He backed up to the ladies old house, with the tailgate only a few feet from the door, and shut the truck off so the exhaust fumes wouldn't be blown inside. "Mike, I don't think you can do this," Jessica said, noticing how much pain he was in.

"Remember what you said about doing the right thing?" he replied, reminding her of their talk on the mountain top. "They're dead if I can't." He slid out of the truck and looked back at her. All three kids bundled up with her had their eyes opened, giving Mike a sense of relief. "Sit here with them while we get the others inside." She just nodded as she held the kids tight in her arms.

Stacy was already getting the little kids into the house and near the wood stove as Mike got to the back of the truck. Taylor looked very weak after that ride back. He noticed she'd forgotten to zip her coat back up from trying to warm the infant.

They got everyone inside, and Mike got himself into a cold chair to rest his legs. The adrenaline rush was gone, knowing they were all indoors. "Brad, gather every blanket you can find. If you have to, take the snowmobile back up to the house and get extras. We're going to need about fifteen of them,” Mike instructed, before turning his attention to Stacy and Jessica. “Start getting their clothes off. They're going to be soaking wet any minute. Wrap them up in space blankets and get everyone warmed up.

Taylor was standing behind all the kids, with a mindless blank stare on her face. "Hey, come here," he said to her, having to sit up and grab her arm to get her attention. "Get your coat off and sit with me." He took his coat off too, and held her firmly against himself.

Jessica came over to check on them and noticed their clothes were getting wet as well. "This isn't going to work. Do you think you two can make it back to the house?"

As he explained that he didn't have the strength to get back up in to the truck, Brad returned from the other house with more blankets. "Taylor, can you get the two of you back home and in to bed using the snowmobile?" She nodded, not wanting to speak. "Go. I can drive us back up in a little bit."

Stacy and Jessica both had to help Mike stand up and get out to the snowmobile. Taylor sped home and mustered up the strength to drag him inside. Stacy, Jessica and Brad stayed at their old house for another hour taking care of the slowly defrosting strangers, doing all they could to help them settle in, dry their clothes, and get some nourishment in their bodies. None of them would speak. Stacy spent the rest of the day staying there to monitor them and help do anything needed. Brad used the snowmobile to run back and forth between the houses bringing food and supplies.

When Jessica got back home, she found Mike and Taylor naked under a thick blanket by the stove, both sound asleep. Brad had returned with her, but ran to get lanterns from the barn and take off back to Stacy. Jessica just let them rest, checking on them frequently, and spent most of the afternoon cleaning.

That night Jessica had to send Brad to bring Stacy home so she could help get Mike and Taylor dressed and into bed. Stacy quickly returned to their unexpected guests, who were clearly on the brink of severe illness. Both women stayed up all night to keep an eye on everyone. Brad tried to stay up too, but Jessica convinced him he'd be more helpful the next day if he was well rested.

Mike woke up the next morning to Brad's cold lips on his forehead. "Don't worry, Daddy, I got the animals in the barn fed, gathered the eggs, and milked the goats. Mom is going to bring you some soup in a little bit. Is Taylor okay?"

Mike turned his head to look at her laying next to him. He could tell that she was breathing well enough and didn't want to disturb her. He could feel a cold coming on, and his hips felt like he'd re-injured them during the rescue. He gave Brad a thumbs up. "I can't think of a better man to take over for me while I'm down." Brad nodded as he smiled as big as ever. "It's your ranch until I'm back up, alright. That means it's extra important that you get Stacy and Jessica whatever they need."

"Um, I have to go," Brad said. "Stacy needs some milk for the baby."

"Get moving, son," Mike said, the fatigue in his voice making him hard to understand.

Jessica came in a while later with a bowl of rabbit soup. Mike tried to sit up, but needed help. He looked over and noticed Taylor hadn't moved. "She's in pretty rough shape," Jessica said. "She barely wakes up every now and then, but hasn't been able to do much more than let out a weak moan and fall back asleep. I'm going to try to sit her up and see if she can wake up just enough to swallow a few bites of soup."

"Tend to her first."

"No, Mike. You're already sitting up, and we need you to get back to heath, too."

"Her."

"Look, I didn't sleep at all last night, I'm pregnant, and I'm grumpy. So shut up and eat the damn soup!" Jessica adamantly insisted.

Mike didn't have the energy or will to argue, and was able to eat almost half the bowl. Jessica had to wait for Brad to help put pillows behind Taylor while she sat her up. She didn't really seem awake, but she apparently was just alert enough to swallow a few spoons of soup. Mike just stared at Taylor all day. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. She was too young. Barely twenty years old, and laying there on the brink of death.

Chapter 8

Fighting to Live

It was three days later before Mike was finally able to sit up in bed on his own and put his feet on the ground. He wasn't ready to stand and walk yet, but he was awake the entire day and ate as much food as he could get anyone to bring him. Taylor was still laying there beside him. It didn't look like she'd moved at all. Stacy told him that she'd been taking a few swallows of liquids several times each day, but hadn't yet been able to open her eyes.

"What happened with those people?" he asked.

"They're going to be staying in our old house until spring," Stacy replied.

Mike felt angry. Here he was unable to get out of bed on his own, and sweet Taylor was fighting for her life. "So Taylor might die after they trespassed on our ranch, and we're going to give them a house to live all happy and healthy in?"

Stacy couldn't believe what she was hearing. She knew Mike had a tendency to be cold and distant, but she'd never heard anything like that out of him. "I'll come talk with you later when you're willing to act human again." She was fighting back tears as she hurried out of the room.

Jessica came back a while later. She had been down at the other house so Stacy could sit with Mike and Taylor, but they switched back after he had upset Stacy.

"Well, sounds like you've got your attitude and appetite back," she walked in saying. "We spend a few days wondering if you're going to make it, just to have you wake up and be an asshole."

"What the hell?" Mike said defensively. "We wouldn't be in this position if -"

"Shut up! Shut the hell up!" Jessica raised her voice at him. "Here!" she said, leaning some homemade crutches against the wall by his bed. "After those teenage boys lost a mom, little brother, and little sister, they walked out and found some downed limbs and made these for you."

Mike couldn't say anything. He was still pissed off at the situation, and terrified for Taylor, but suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash over him.

Jessica started crying as she continued, "And the other woman, she asks about the two of you every time she can stop crying over her baby dying."

And that did it. No one had ever seen the typically stoic Mike shed a tear, but the news of the baby's death was more than he could handle. Jessica, still sobbing herself, sat on the floor in front of him and cried into his lap for a few minutes before regaining her composure. She laid Mike back down in the bed and crawled in to cuddle next to him.

"Everybody is scared for Taylor," she said as they both looked over at her laying there, seemingly peaceful. Feeling heartbroken and helpless, they both laid there for over an hour just staring at Taylor. Her only sign of life being the slow rising and falling of her chest with each breath.

Mike was able to get to the bathroom the next day with the help of the crutches the boys had made him. But he was still in too much pain to do much else. Brad came in and spent most of the day reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer to them.

The next day was Taylor's fifth day in bed. Mike could get up and move around more, but wasn't willing to leave her side. He just laid there in bed against her, scared to watch her die, hopeful she'd finally wake up. He spent the entire day talking softly to her, rambling on and on as she had done to him so many times.

When it was finally getting dark outside, he stopped talking and held her tightly against him. He didn't know what to do. He started thinking about Brad running most of the farm with so little help. More than a ten year old should have to take on. He told himself that no matter what, he was going to get up and, if nothing else, keep Brad company during the chores the next morning.

"Your beard tickles." Mike heard the weak, but familiar, voice coming from beside him. He pulled back just enough to see Taylor's face, her eyes slightly open and looking back at him.

"She's awake!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. The others had all fallen asleep early, worn out from the mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting week they'd just had. But Mike's voice bringing news of Taylor waking up had them up and running full speed in to see her.

As they all came in to ask how she was feeling, Taylor was the only one not crying. She had no idea how long she had been down, but seeing tears in Mike's eyes told her it must have been bad.

"I'm hungry," she moaned, sending Jessica and Stacy both racing to the kitchen. "How long have I been out of it?"

"Five days," Mike told her as he was wiping his eyes.

"Daddy was out for three days, and he still can barely walk," Brad added.

Taylor's concern turned to him. "Are you okay, Mike?"

"I'm just fine. You be quiet and save your energy."

Taylor was able to sit herself up in bed as Stacy brought in some soup, and Jessica followed with tea and bread.

"Now that she's okay, will you cook something that's not soup?" Brad asked. They laughed as they cried.

"Hey, Brad, I've got an idea. Why don't you and I cook tomorrow? Anything you want," Mike said.

"Alright!" Brad said happily. “I've had soup all week. I want steak and eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner tomorrow."

"You got it little man. You deserve it." Mike turned to Taylor and told her, "You know this little man has practically run the ranch by himself with us down and these two playing hospital."

"Oh, yeah!" Taylor perked up. "How are those people? What were they doing there?"

Everyone's happy mood turned somber as they thought about the three who died. Jessica, wanting to avoid Taylor getting emotional just yet, answered, "They're going to stay in our old house until spring. Don't worry about them. You just get better."

Mike woke up early enough to try to help Brad with morning chores. He still needed the crutches to help him with balance, as he walked over took look out the window where he could see his barn.

"Brad's still asleep," Jessica whispered. "Those two boys you saved, Steve and Jason, they're taking care of everything." Mike glanced back at her with a curious look on his face.

"Do they -"

'Yes, Mike, they know what they're doing," she said, anticipating that question. "They had a farm up until a few days before you found them."

"What happened?"

"Come, sit, and have some tea. I'll tell you what I know about them later. After Taylor wakes up. You know she's going to ask the same questions."

Mike and Jessica sat together drinking their tea and enjoying the peace and quiet, staring out the window at the fresh snow covering everything. He sat behind her to wrap her in his arms and hold his hands on her stomach. Feeling the baby kicking brought a smile to his face. He told her he loved her, and as he was giving her a kiss on the cheek, Taylor came slowly walking out.

"Hey, sweetie! You're up!" Jessica said softly, but excitedly, as she hurried over to help her to the table.

Taylor folded her arms and laid her head on the table and mumbled, "Someone go kill something. I feel like I could eat a whole deer by myself."

"Why don't you start a little smaller," Jessica said, smiling big knowing Taylor was certainly going to be okay now. She got her some tea and bread, and Taylor wasted no time devouring it.

Brad and Stacy woke up and hurried to give Taylor a hug. Brad only halfheartedly, as he was focused on getting his steak for breakfast.

"Okay, son, let's go pick out some meat to bring in and slice up," Mike said to the anxiously waiting boy.

"Sit your butt back down. I'll take him out to the root cellar," Stacy said. "We'll get you a chair over to the stove so you can cook it with him, but you need to take it easy until your hips are done recovering."

"If they recover," Mike thought to himself, not realizing he said it out loud.

They were all quiet. Mike was feeling pretty down, and they'd not seen him like that before.

"So," Taylor spoke up to break the uncomfortable silence. "Who wants to tell me about those people that were out in the snow?"

Jessica's head slightly dropped. "Yeah, hang on," she said as she got them all a refill of their tea and rejoined them at the table.

"Well, ugh, where to start," Jessica said. "Taylor, three of them didn't make it."

Taylor was still too fatigued to show much emotion and just stared at Jessica. "The baby?" she asked, expecting that it was one of the three.

"Yeah," Jessica replied. "We couldn't save baby Rachael. We also lost Evan, the four year old twin. And Bethany, one of the mothers."

"Damn," Taylor said flatly, still showing little emotion.

"Yea. It's been really hard," Jessica went on. "The ground is too frozen to dig, and they're up here hiding from the Guard. Amy, the mother that survived, insisted the bodies be taken and left in the wilderness. Brad offered, but I couldn't let him do it. So the older boys - their names are Steve and Jason - we let them use the snowmobile and a sled."

"And the rest?" Taylor asked.

"They're doing fairly well. They started regaining some strength a few days ago. Same day he did," Jessica nodded towards Mike.

"So, yeah, it's not easy to keep up with them all, but there's Amy. Jason is her son. Steve's mom was Bethany, the mother who died. Both boys are thirteen and named after their fathers. The women were sisters-in-law who lived with their husbands, two brothers, on an old family farm. The husbands died trying to make sure the others got away. Then there's little Anna. She's nine, and is Amy's daughter. Jacob is Steve's eight year old brother. Stephanie is Evan's twin and they were Bethany's kids. And baby Rachael was Amy's youngest."

Taylor just sat with a puzzled look on her face. "I might remember all that some day. I take it they're still around?" she asked.

"They're going to stay until spring in your old house," Mike answered. "Jess, what's their last name? Where are they from?" he wanted to know.

"Um, I know they said they were from Mount Carmel. And, uh, Hep- Hepworth! That's it. Their last name is Hepworth."

Mike took interest in their claim that they were fleeing the Guard. He wondered why, and told the others that they should have the Hepworth's over for lunch soon. They came over the next day, with Jessica taking the Suburban to pick them up.

Mike was sitting on the couch reading a book about the Cold War when they walked in. "Hi, I'm Mike," he said politely. "It's a small place so you all sit anywhere you can find a spot."

"Hi, I'm Amy. You have no idea how thankful we are for what you did for us," she said as her eyes filled up with tears. "And you must be Taylor, our other savior. Thank you so much!" Taylor just nodded and smiled, then Amy went on introducing all the kids.

"Steve, Jason," Mike said, reaching out to shake their hands. "Good set of crutches here boys. And Brad tells me you've been a big help to him with the farm while I've been down. Thank you."

"Momma, Momma, that's him," little Anna whispered loudly as she tugged on Amy's arm. "That's the radio guy."

Taylor reached over and grabbed Mike's hand, hoping to help him keep his head about him since he was so concerned about privacy.

"No, Anna," Amy told her. “This man's name is Mike. It was him and Taylor here who saved our lives.”

"No, Momma, that's Thomas Paine. You know, from the radio."

Stacy had heard Anna, and quickly came over to ask if she wanted to help bake some pumpkin pie, distracting her for a while away from Mike.

Mike didn't want to waste any time with small talk. "So Amy, Jessica filled me in some on what brought you up here. But I'm wondering why the Guard came after your family?"

Amy hung her head toward the floor as Mike noticed Jessica glaring her infamous stare at him. "Damn you, Mike," she mouthed as Amy started to cry and walk away.

Jason spoke up. "I'm sorry, mister. We've lost our home and five family members in the last two weeks. It's hard."

Mike nodded at the young man who seemed unusually well composed. "What about you?"

"I guess I'm just numb. I'm sad and all, but at the same time, I don't really feel anything anymore either."

Mike and Jason continued talking for nearly an hour before lunch was ready. Taylor sat at Mike's side listening intently, but staying strangely quiet. Jessica and Stacy did all that they could to keep everyone else occupied and their minds off all the recent tragedy they'd suffered.

It turned out their crime was keeping what they farmed for themselves. Since the crash, almost a year ago, the federal government had apparently passed what was called The Filburn Act, stating that no agriculture production could be kept for personal consumption. Apparently that was considered to be cheating the value system.

“The Filburn Act?” Taylor questioned. “That's familiar. Wait, that's from the old Supreme Court case. From The Great Depression. Wickard v. Filburn I think it was?” she continued, looking inquisitively at Mike.

“Jason, meet Taylor. Our resident book worm and history nerd,” Mike joked as she softly smacked him on the back of the head.

Mike stewed over these revelations the rest of the day, and late into the night. The reports, even from the individual news broadcasts, had said nothing about family gardens or such force being used against families. He sat up in bed around midnight, and Taylor reached over to put her hand on his back. "You can't sleep either huh?"

"I didn't know you were awake?" he whispered.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know you were either or I would have spoke up a while ago."

"This is really bugging me," he said. "People dying over defending their right to feed themselves?"

"It scares me," Taylor said, her voice still soft and raspy from being sick. "You've got to do a recording about this. It's just wrong. Why isn't anyone else reporting on it?"

"I don't know,” Mike answered. “My bigger concern is what's going to happen if they catch us. We've got to come up with a plan to either defend ourselves, or escape safely. I can't let what happened to them happen to us."

"We can work on that tomorrow. When can you do a recording?" she asked.

"I don't know. I could now, I guess, but I don't want to wake the others."

"Are you even tired?" she asked.

"I should be, but no, I'm not. I think I got enough rest this past week, and now I'm just itching to do anything."

Taylor sat for a moment, then got up and used the comforter to hang over the door and help muffle the sound. "There. Whether you record something, or we just sit up half the night talking, that should help keep from waking them up."

Mike motioned for her to come sit by him, then grabbed the laptop Bishop Christensen had given him.

"Last week, you were expecting to hear my voice bring yet another message about freedom and peace. But instead, you heard nothing. That's because my family found ourselves in a situation having to rescue a family in need. Women and children fleeing the Guard while their husbands and fathers died so that they could live. Women and children who were left stranded in the snow, their homes and livelihoods taken from them.

“What was the horrible crime these people committed? What awful deed did they perpetrate to deserve being shot at? Did they murder someone? Did they enslave or torture innocent people? No! They violated The Filburn Act. They dared to eat the vegetables they'd stored up from last summer, and the meat from their own animals.

“They exercised one of the most basic rights of natural freedom, feeding themselves. And for that, two honest, hardworking men, a loving mother, a handsome, young, four-year-old boy, and a beautiful three-month-old baby girl lost their lives. Yes, you heard that right. Two young children are dead because the Guard wouldn't let this family feed themselves.

“Our government is going to work to distract you from paying attention to events like this one. They're going to try to keep you from learning of tragedies like this. They are going to give you more and more things in their efforts to win over your support. They're going to tell you of all the horrible things to fear, that they want you to seek their protection from. Do not let yourselves lose sight of the goal of freedom.

“To all those willing to risk your own regular broadcasts of news, stop being content with the seeming stability that's been returned to our lives. If people's most basic freedom to eat from their own work is being taken away by bullets, you have an obligation as part of the human race to report it. If infants lives are going to be ended because their parents dared to grow food, it must be told to the world.  Do not create false events, just to generate something to talk about. But do not let such a loss of freedom and life be silenced.

“I know there are guardsmen listening. To each of you in uniform I say, the time has come for you to make a decision. We all are aware that many have already abandoned their posts to return home. And you well know that some of these gave their lives just for refusing to take away freedom. Now you must choose what you will do. Such oppression can not continue. You must either let your loved ones be killed for seeking their natural rights, or you must return home to defend them. The choice is yours, and the time to choose is now.

“A few months ago I encouraged you to seek freedom through peace. Nearly two-hundred and forty years ago, the American Colonists tried this as well. But when peacefully working to reclaim their natural rights failed, they were left two choices: accept oppression by force, or use force of their own. As we all proudly celebrate with fireworks every year, we know they chose the latter. Now it appears, we must prepare to do the same."

"Holy shit," Taylor exclaimed, seeing Mike push the stop button. "That was... did you -"

"Basically put out a call to arms?" he said. "Yep. And I need to send this out before I change my mind."

Chapter 9

Preparing For The Worst

The next morning, Taylor and Mike finally started getting tired about the time everyone else was waking up. Both were sleepy, but felt more like themselves than they had since the rescue. Mike was starting to get around pretty well without the crutches, and that was clearly helping his mood.

As Mike came in from trying to help with chores, Taylor was getting breakfast started. She had insisted that Jessica and Stacy wouldn't stand at the stove again that week. At breakfast, Mike told them all that they needed to start coming up with plans for defending or escaping their ranch.

"We need to analyze the entire ranch, and even the surrounding land, for weak points we could be attacked from. Ways to block road access on a moment's notice. And we need some viable escape routes where we're not at risk of being caught by nature like they were," he told them.

Stacy immediately expressed her shock that they were even discussing such an idea. Taylor had been discussing it with him long before the others woke up. Jessica and Brad made it known that they had talked about the same thing the night the Hepworths were rescued.

"Stacy, I think you need to start getting in a lot more range time," Mike said. "I know you don't enjoy shooting quite as much as the rest of us -"

"Mike, I don't think I could bring myself to shoot at someone."

"You could if you had to, Stacy. You just had to hold a dead baby in your arms last week. You being a good shot could end up being what prevents you from holding one of our bodies."

She started to cry at the memory of little Rachael and the possibility that the same could happen to them.

"Mike, that was kind of harsh," Jessica commented.

"I know. And I hate saying it as much as you all hate hearing it. But look at what they just went through."

"He's right," Stacy replied, trying to calm herself. "I don't know that I could take the shot to defend myself. But I could for you all. And I could for those kids, too."

"I know you could," Mike said, grabbing her shoulder. "Brad, you know this ranch as well anyone. I want you to work on drawing out a map of it, and all the dirt roads leading in and around. Get with Taylor on figuring out which spots would be easiest for anyone to sneak up on us, and try to come up with ideas to fix it."

Brad nodded as Taylor confidently said, "We got this," giving Brad a high-five.

"Jessica, you and I are going to work on escape plans. If it was still just me, I'd die before leaving my home. But I'd give up this place in a heartbeat to know you all are safe."

Everyone just sat quiet for a moment. The reality that they might have to engage in a gun fight or abandon their home began sinking in. "Anyone have any thoughts or ideas, besides the fact that this sucks?" he added.

"You want me going out shooting right now? Alone? It's freezing out there. Heck, getting up to freezing would be a welcome warm spell. I'm not -"

"Calm down, Stacy. Not right now. But I'll go out there with you this afternoon. Okay?"

"Then what do I do for now?" she asked.

"Start figuring up minimal needs for us if we have to escape, and come up with good ways to carry and store caches of supplies. We'll have to integrate what you come up with into what the rest of us are working on."

They worked busily all day on what Taylor had dubbed their "Battle and Retreat Plans." Mike spent the majority of the afternoon going over Stacy's rifle with her, and showing her how to quickly adjust between different distances for "real close" hits.

"This isn't as good as knowing how to adjust your scope on the fly for changing conditions, but you could kill anyone within a hundred and fifty yards, and then swing around to pepper an approaching vehicle a half mile away," he explained.

As she was missing less shots with each magazine she emptied, she got more and more in to it. "How do you hit the one way over there?" she asked, pointing to the one mile target.

"With a bigger gun, plenty of time studying, countless rounds acquiring a sore shoulder, and a fair bit of luck," he said. "If you want to learn to shoot really long range, ask Taylor or Brad where the book “The Ultimate Sniper” is. One of them will know. But be ready to exercise your math skills."

They sat back in the small shelter to get out of the wind and enjoy the views looking down range. "God this is so beautiful, Mike."

He looked over at her. Her cheeks were red from the cold and her eyes sparkling with the bright reflection of sunlight off the snow.

"Look, an eagle," she noticed as it flew in and perched on a tall tree.

He glanced over at the majestic-looking bird, then went back to staring at her. She had a peaceful and happy look about her. A look he'd not seen much of through the winter. "I love you," he said, causing her to smile and her eyes shine even more.

Later that evening, after dinner, they started going over what they had come up with during the day. Taylor and Brad started off by saying that they had a hard time coming up with things they could achieve before the snow melts, and that the things they did come up with would be big projects.

Taylor had told Brad that limiting road access should be their first priority. With all his time riding his bike everywhere, he knew each dirt road and where they went better than he knew the freckles over the bridge of his nose. Taylor's input was in knowing where they would likely have a need to travel to. So they drew a new map, taking out some existing roads, and adding in one main new road that would be more easily defended.

"Um, you two have a road coming up the canyon to the reservoir, then looping around the hill. There's no road through the canyon down there," Mike said, wondering what was going through their minds.

"I know that. We're going to build it, and close down the main road we use now," Taylor said, as if building a road down a raw canyon was going to be easy.

Mike just laughed and shook his head.

"Shut up," she snapped as she continued. "It's going to be about a three-mile long road down the canyon. Then probably around one and a half miles looping around the mountain to connect it to the main road."

"Taylor," Mike cut in. "Do you have any idea what you're proposing."

"Mike, I think she might be on to something here," Jessica said, backing them up.

"Thank you, mom!" Brad said.

Mike just gestured for them to continue.

"Okay, Mike. To the point," Taylor went on, hoping to convince him they  had a good idea. "This gives us about a five mile view of anyone coming, and we can see them from the house. And a lot of it from inside the house."

"Okay, okay. Good idea. But that's a massive amount of work. You're talking about building -"

"Hang on, there's more," Brad said, wanting to get his turn in explaining the idea. "It's all downhill of the reservoir, Daddy. You can't shoot as far as the road, but if we can find some way to be able to put a drain on the levee that could be shot open, then we could wash out the road and anyone on it." Brad was excited. He too didn't seem to grasp what the level of work required would be, but he was very proud that washing out the road somehow from the reservoir was his idea.

Mike, trying to hold himself back from shooting down their ideas any more, asked what else they had. They proceeded to show where the best spots were to get around the ranch easily and secretly, and have the best vantage points to watch or shoot from. Taylor, with a huge smile, added, "And the best part would be, with the echo of the canyon, anyone coming up that road would have a hell of a time trying to figure out where the shots were coming from!"

Mike suddenly busted out laughing as they were explaining why they had picked a certain place to dig in a shelter on a hill side, causing Brad to get a very discouraged look on his face, and Taylor an annoyed look.

"No, no, no. I'm not laughing at this. I think this is excellent," He assured them. "No, I was laughing because I had another idea that could work out with your road idea. Brad, using the reservoir to stop passage down the road was smart thinking, but it would mean draining it first, and then we have to wait for it to refill. We use that water, so that would be a really big deal."

"Okay, so what?" Taylor asked.

"Have you ever seen the old movie Swiss Family Robinson?"

Taylor shook her head 'no,' but Jessica and Stacy both started cracking up too, knowing exactly what Mike was talking about.

"Alright, well, I'm not explaining the whole movie to you. But at the end, the Robinson family is having to defend their island against pirates invading them." He got blank stares back from both of them. "So what they did was build traps at the top of the hill. Contraptions holding logs and rocks that they could release, and let gravity wipe out the pirates."

"Oh, cool!" Brad exclaimed.

"Okay, anything else, you two?" Mike asked.

"That's it for now," Taylor answered. "But we've got a few other ideas we want to try to work out before we bring them to you. Hopefully stuff we can work on even in the snow."

"Okay, Jessica, you want to tell them what we came up with?"

"Um, sure. Unfortunately part of our ideas for escaping involved building new dirt roads too. But we're only looking at maybe a  mile of as narrow of a trail as we can get away with. On the other side of the mountain, to our west, there's a seldom used road. It's on BLM land. We want try to make a secret access road off of it that dead ends into the woods, and hide one of our vehicles in there. It'd be a hell of hike to get there from here, but anyone coming here could only follow by foot through woods that we know better than anyone else."

Stacy, Taylor and Brad all had blank stares on their faces. The thought of leaving the ranch just didn't seem acceptable to anyone.

"Okay," Jessica continued. "That's the ultimate last resort. I think everyone's preferred escape option would be to stay here. Escape by hiding. Basically, we build another cave. One better hidden, that doesn't have a radio tower and wind generator on it."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to move the radio tower and wind generator?” Stacy suggested. “Set them up somewhere else? I mean, Mike, you've been able to tune in the news, record and send your broadcasts, all with just that small radio and old laptop."

"She's got a good point. You know, if we're really concerned about how much work we're taking on, you guys are suggesting similar ideas to ours," Taylor added defensively.

Mike agreed. "You're right. And that's something we can do while there's still snow on the ground. So, Taylor, you want to help me move and reconfigure the radio station? We can put it in the loft of the barn, and put the wind generator just uphill from the barn."

"What are we waiting for?" She replied enthusiastically.

Jessica turned to Stacy. "So, what about you? You come up with anything?"

Stacy sighed. "Not really. I overheard the new cave idea and figured it'd be rearranged to use the cave we already have. The biggest problem we have with moving around emergency supplies is not having any good means of carrying what we all would need. Mike, you don't even have a suitcase that I know of."

Smiling, he replied, "Oh sure, I've got a nice luggage set for all my world travels!"

"Smart ass," she shot back as she rolled her eyes.

"Alright. I guess -" Mike started.

"Hang on there. We're forgetting something. We all know not a one of us has it in us to leave behind the Hepworths if anything happens before they leave," Jessica added.

Mike let out a groan. "If my choice is saving them or saving you -"

"Then you'll make damn sure those kids are safe. or I'll be your biggest threat," Jessica cut him off.

Mike could only nod in agreement. "Alright then, as I was trying to say. Taylor, we'll get started tomorrow on moving the radio station to the barn. Brad, could use your help too. You're probably the best snowmobile driver here and that's what we'll have to use."

Brad smiled and nodded.

"Stacy, Jess, why don't you two work on ideas for taking care of anyone we're giving refuge to, whether it's the Hepworths, or someone else in the future."

Chapter 10

Three Powers

Mike and Jessica woke up the next morning to find Stacy, Taylor, and Amy all hovering around the radio. Taylor had gone down to get the Hepworth family and bring them back up so Amy could help her give Jessica and Stacy another day off from any household chores, and so that Brad and the other kids could all play together.

"Good mor -" Jessica started to say, as Taylor cut her off.

"Shhhh!"

Mike could hear something from the voice on the radio about Canada and Mexico, but he was still too tired to really care and just wanted to enjoy some tea, and some quiet, while he tried to wake up. Jessica had brought him a glass, and he held on to her to try to get a chance to feel the baby kicking. "Lucky little stinker," he said, after not feeling anything. "Enjoy sleeping in while you can."

Then Mike heard something that not only grabbed his attention, but woke him up enough that he nearly tipped his chair over trying to join the others around the radio. He got there just in time for the report to end, with the anchor saying they'd return with weather reports and news about some new law that was likely to be implemented in the next week.

He stared at Stacy. "Um, did... did I just hear them say 'Soviet Union'?" he asked.

She nodded as Amy said "yes," to confirm what he'd heard. He was only barely old enough to have vague memories of the collapse of the old Soviet Union. He could remember watching the Berlin Wall being torn down on TV as his teachers told all the kids they were witnessing "history in the making."

"What's going on?" Jessica asked, overhearing the exchange between Mike and Amy.

Stacy looked up at her "Russia has taken back over a lot of Europe and parts of the Middle East. We made some threats to stop them, but China stepped up and took over almost all the other countries around them, all the way over to Afghanistan, and all the island nations north of Australia."

Mike couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Oh man! No way!"

“Oh, there's more," Amy added. "The news said we couldn't stop them without triggering a global nuclear war. And now we've annexed both Canada and Mexico. Canada apparently volunteered after Russia said it planned to take Alaska back. I guess we took Mexico by force for their oil and agriculture."

"Mike," Stacy said with the most serious tone of voice he'd ever heard her use. "There are now three global superpowers. We're not the only one anymore." She paused as the gravity of the situation sank in on everyone. "We're now the North American Union. The U.S.S.R has been reinstated. And China has formed The People's Republic of Pacific States."

Mike sat back on the couch. The whole world had now changed twice in the last year. "Well, on a good note, the Guard is going to have it's hands full trying to integrate Canada and Mexico. No doubt the Mexicans are going to be fighting this, as they should."

They all sat silent again. Even though they were as isolated from it all as anyone really could be, there was still an uncomfortable tension in the air.

"Well, I need to go check on the animals," Mike broke the silence.

"It's done," Taylor said. "Brad and Jason took the snowmobile up to the south slope to check on the animals up there. Steve and the little ones are building snowmen. I tended to the barn with Brad before he took off."

He walked over to the kitchen for more tea. "Y'all gotta start leaving some stuff or I'm going to just get fat and lazy," he said, half jokingly, half serious.

Mike stood at the window looking out at a growing army of three-foot-tall snowmen, and smiled as the kids threw snowballs at each other. With so much craziness going on, he took peace in knowing that there were eleven people who were still able to enjoy themselves and eat well, even if six of them were still having a hard time emotionally.

All four of the ladies had come to stand with him and watch the kids play. "This is the first time in two weeks I've seen them smile or laugh," Amy said as her eyes swelled with tears.

"Oh, um, please don't start crying," Mike said uncomfortably.

Amy leaned in to him and hugged him tight as she let out a laugh.

"Ever hear of tears of joy, Mike?" Jessica said.

Amy backed off from Mike. "I'm just happy to see the kids happy again after everything."

Mike just sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He figured this would be a good time to stay quiet. "Damn this," he thought to himself. "All my years building this ranch, and estrogen now surrounds me, four-to-one."

Mike still had something about the Hepworths he was curious about. "So Amy, I never did ask you where you planned on going in the spring? Or where you were headed when we found you?"

"We're going over west of Cedar City. Bethany's parents live in Newcastle, and my brother and his wife are in Modena."

"Damn, that's a long ass way to walk. That's gotta be a hundred miles or so."

"We know they'd all take us in, and figured it'd be the best way to kind of spread the burden around while keeping the kids as close together as we could." She paused and let out a long sigh. "I guess we'll still head that way come spring. I'm going to have to let Bethany's parents know -"

"Don't worry about that for now," Jessica said, hoping to avoid more sadness. “You guys are safe now. The kids are happy and warm."

Stacy looked over to Mike "Can you try to radio out a message to let their family know what happened, and that Amy and the kids are safe?"

"Oh yeah. We're supposed to work on moving the radio station today," Mike said, being reminded by Stacy's idea.

"Mike, can you do that first? They need to know. And I'm sure that would help give Amy some peace of mind."

"Yeah, as soon as the boys come back with the snowmobile, Taylor and I can go do that and get started."

Later that evening, as Mike and Taylor came back to the barn with the last of the radio equipment, Mike noticed the Suburban wasn't there. "I guess they took the Hepworths back down to the other house," he said. Taylor only gave him a funny look as she hurried through unloading the sled. When they were done, she took him by the hand and started leading him over to the greenhouse. "Um, Taylor, what are you doing?"

"We both need to shower and get cleaned up," she said as she had to pull him through the door.

Mike noticed a lantern, towels and clean clothes for them both over by the shower. He also saw a tarp had been hung up between the shower and hammock. "Taylor, I don't -"

She put her finger over his lips. "I'm not stealing from Jess and Stacy's idea. You'll go first, then wait for me."

As Taylor was finishing her shower, she called out to Mike from behind the tarp to button his shirt all the way up. He had no idea what was going on, but she knew he'd have it only half way buttoned up and wanted it different for some reason. And he didn't understand the tarp, as none of them had worried about privacy in there for a long time. Mike sat there waiting, somewhat impatiently, for a good while. "Taylor," he called out. "I'll just meet you inside."

"You'll sit your ass right there. I'm almost done."

He sighed and sat a few minutes longer, getting lost in his thoughts about everything that had happened recently. From behind him, he felt Taylor's hand on his shoulder.

"I'm ready," she said.

"It's about time -" he started. "Um, WOW!" he exclaimed in total surprise. Taylor smiled at him as he looked her over. She had on a well-fitted, strapless blue dress that came down to about mid-thigh. Her hair was done nicely instead of the normal ponytail she kept it in. And she had on a little bit of lipstick and eyeliner.

Mike's face told her all she needed. He was very impressed. "I've never seen you in a dress, or with makeup," he said, stumbling over his words. "What's all this?"

She put her finger over his lips again. Locking her arm with his, they walked back to the house. He couldn't help but to keep looking over at her as she walked with her head high and eyes straight forward.

As they walked in the door, the delicious smells were overwhelming. There were only two chairs left at the table, which had candles lit and plates set out nicely.

"Taylor, what's all this. You know I -"

Again with her finger over his lips. "Now I know you're not seeing the teen-aged girl you remember so well right now. I know because you've never looked at me like you did when you first saw me tonight."

"Taylor, you look absolutely beautiful. I mean, damn. Stunning."

She smiled and spun around for him.

"I hope you're not -"

"Hush, Mike. Okay, I'm not trying to seduce you or anything like that. So relax. Sex is not in the plans."

He let out a big sigh of relief.

Taylor crumpled up her face at his sigh. "Alright, I'm not going to take that personally. I know if you hadn't known me so well for so long, you'd be all over me right now."

"Um, well -"

"I know, it's awkward. But I'll be twenty-one this year, and I just want some idea of what it's like to be on a date. The others are spending the night at the old house with the Hepworths. It's just me and you. We're going to have dinner and watch a movie. No expectations. Just.. I just want the experience of a date, so I don't feel too awkward when I meet a guy one day."

"These are some really conniving women," he thought to himself as he looked around at the work Stacy and Jessica must have spent the afternoon on. "Well, this is certainly interesting," he said with a grin.

"Oh, shut up. You're going to have fun. We'll have a good evening."

He sat down at the nicely arranged table while she quickly went about serving dinner. "You know, I don't think I've seen a movie in probably fifteen years. What are we watching?" he asked.

"Jess had a western movie she said she'd bet you'd love. It's called Angel and the Badman."

Mike thought to himself, "Jess is a sneaky little shit." He knew that movie. He watched a lot of John Wayne westerns as a kid in the children's home, and it had been one of his favorites. A rough cowboy tries to resist the advances of a young, beautiful and innocent farm girl, only to fall in love and settle down with her at the end.

Chapter 11

Organized Resistance

The morning of February 16th brought a massive winter storm to the region, and everyone on the ranch was hunkered down playing games and reading. Mike was the only one to go out, and that was only for chores.

Over on State Highway 18, well over a hundred miles to the west, Bishop Christensen was creeping along in his car, heading north, to try and find Amy's family that he had received Mike's message about. He knew he was looking for a Bishop Carter, who was the head of the Newcastle LDS ward, and figured he would know the family.

Bishop Carter was sitting with his father-in-law, enjoying a game of chess, when his doorbell rang. "May I help you?" he greeted the stranger standing in the snow at his door.

"My name is James Christensen, I'm the Bishop from Toquerville. May I come in?"

"Yes please. I'm Larry Carter, but I guess you knew that."

"Well, unfortunately I come with bad news. Do you know a Dale and Trisha Westen in Newcastle? Or a Scott and Gerri Burdick over in Modena?"

"I know the Westens quite well, why?"

"I got word yesterday that the Westen's daughter, Bethany, has died."

"Oh no! I'll have to go let them know. Do you know what the funeral arrangements are?"

"Well, there's more. Can we sit?" Bishop Christensen continued as the two sat in the living room. "Bethany's husband and his brother were murdered by some guardsmen, making way for their wives and kids to escape. Bethany and her son, Evan, died from exposure in the mountains. Bethany's sister-in-law, Amy, is Scott Burdick's sister. Her husband was killed to, and their baby daughter died from exposure as well."

Bishop Carter was silently in shock at the news. He had known Amy when she was younger.

"There won't be a funeral. Amy and the remaining five children are safe."

"I'll be damned! You're talking about that family that the fella who does the Thomas Paine Radio talked about last night, aren't you?" said a voice walking in from the next room. "And you're saying this Amy lady and kids are staying with that Thomas Paine fella?"

"I didn't say that," Bishop Christensen said evasively.

"Yeah, they are. Don't you go worryin' about that lady and kids,” the old man said. “If they're with him, they're as safe as anyone can be."

"I'm sorry, and you are?" Bishop Christensen inquired.

"Please excuse my father-in-law. Dad, this is James Christensen from Toquerville. James, this is my father-in-law, Phillip Brown."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brown."

"So do you actually know this Thomas Paine character?" Phillip asked.

"Yes, and you talk like you do as well."

Phillip only nodded, reminding him of Mike's demeanor.

"So why do you say they're so safe with him," Bishop Christensen asked.

"Just you asking that tells me you don't know him all that well," Phillip replied.

"Who is this guy?" Bishop Carter cut in.

"He's the guy who started that illegal food distribution," Bishop Christensen answered.

"He lives up in the mountains east of here a-ways," Phillip added.

"You know where he lives?" Bishop Christensen asked.

"Hell yeah I do. He's got a nice ranch. Not a man I'd care to piss off neither."

"Yeah, he's a little rough around the edges. I kind of annoyed him once and found my face being slammed into the hood of his truck."

Phillip couldn't control himself, laughing so hard he cried as he imagined Mike slamming this skinny little man's face down. "What'd you do to piss him off?”

Bishop Christensen dropped his head, knowing this old man was going to laugh at him even more. "I tried to give him a hug."

Phillip continued laughing so hard he was struggling to breathe and started coughing. "Dammit, man. I've known him damn near ten years now and I don't even try to shake his hand. You're either a lot more brave than you look, or you're just as stupid as you look."

"Dad!” Bishop Carter cut in. “That's enough. This man's a guest in my home and you're not going to be that disrespectful to anyone here."

"Well," Bishop Christensen interjected, "He is right. I knew Thomas well enough to know better than to try that. It was total stupidity on my part."

"Dad, you're telling me a man willing to assault a Bishop is safe to trust a woman and her kids with?"

"Hell kid, the only place safer is with the president. Naw, change that. The president has half the population wanting him dead, and China and Russia itching to nuke his ass. They're safer up there on that hill." Phillip was finally able to really compose himself as he continued. "Like your little Mormon friend here says, he's a bit rough around the edges. And he ain't so bad now as he used to be."

"He used to be worse?" Bishop Christensen wondered how that was possible.

"Yeah he was. It was them two kids, that girl and boy that moved up there with the whores, that started softening him up some. Taylor and Brad, that's their names. I couldn't believe he ended up warming up to them whores. I thought he was gonna kill 'em when they moved in down the hill from him. And I don't just mean he was upset."

"He wouldn't take too kindly to it if he heard you referring to those nice ladies that way," Bishop Christensen said, feeling like he should defend Jessica and Stacy's honor.

Phillip laughed. "You don't, know, do you? Hell, you don't know them for nothin'. Those ladies moved up there after they decided to stop spreadin' their legs for a livin' over in Vegas. I ain't callin 'em whores because I don't like 'em. That's just what they are. Or were."

"Well, they don't live down the hill from him anymore.” Bishop Christensen explained. “They live with him. We thought they were polygamists when we first met them. So you know Jessica? She's pregnant, due some time in late spring I think."

"Well I'll be damned! I knew he warmed up to them some over the years, but I wouldn't have expected they got that warm. Good for him! Tell 'em ole Phillip said congrats."

Bishop Christensen just gave him a nod, trying poorly to mimic Mike.

"Okay you two. I'm going to have to go notify their families," Bishop Carter cut in again. "I think that Scott goes to the Baptist Church, so I'll stop by their preacher's house to see if he's home after I meet with Dale and Trisha."

"I'd like to go with you if that's alright," James said.

"Same here. Me and Face Plant here can assure them that the rest of the family is in the safest hands imaginable," Phillip added, poking fun at Bishop Christensen's story.

"I still don't see how you think they're so safe up there, Dad?"

"Well boy, I'll tell you, if I could shoot as good as that recluse does, I'd have killed you from too far away to get caught before you ever took my daughter out on that first date. If you piss him off, you better be over a mile away when you do it."

"Is he really that good?" Bishop Christensen said with enthusiastic curiosity.

"He's good enough that I wouldn't want him to give him the chance to get lucky."

"Okay, you know what," Bishop Carter tried again. "You two can carry on your mutual lust for Thomas Paine now and stay here, or later and let's go notify these families. And Dad, if you're coming, please choose your wording carefully to let them know their grandkids are in good hands."

The Westens didn't take the news well. Both cried hard, though Dale felt a lot of anger that he directed primarily at Phillip. They hadn't heard from their daughter in a while and were already worried. Dale Westen tried demanding that Phillip tell him where to go get his grandkids, but Phillip adamantly refused. Dale, in an emotional rage, even tried threatening him.

"Sir, I'm more sorry than I can express for your loss. I can't bring myself to imagine losing my own daughter. But there's a lot of good reasons I can't tell you," replied Phillip.

"Then at least tell me why? Why can't you tell me where to get them?" Dale screamed at him.

"For starters, Mr. Westen, you'd never get there. You can't get there now because of the snow. And come summer time, you can't get there because he'd shoot you first, and identify you later. Either way, you wouldn't survive it. Those kids don't need to lose their grandparents, too."

"And I'm supposed to trust my grandkids with a man who'd shoot their grandparents?"

"Absolutely. He wouldn't know you're they're grandparents. He's just going to see someone coming who he doesn't recognize, and assume with all that's happened that you're a threat, possibly the Guard. Anyone who's a possible threat to your grandkids have to survive his .50 caliber rifle to get to them."

"Fair enough I guess," Dale said as he began to calm down. "You said there's a lot of good reasons, so what are the rest?"

"Well, really all that's left, if your life isn't a good enough reason, is my own fear and respect. I'd be at least as scared of him as I am the Guard. I'm not so generally scared of him, but if I broke his trust by telling you where he lived, I'd have good reason to be scared. And I respect him too much to break his trust."

Dale and Trisha both continued crying. Phillip offered to try to go up there in the spring, since his truck would be recognized, and see if he could do something to help them. After they left, Phillip asked to be dropped back off at Bishop Carter's house. He didn't want to participate in another notification.

Both Bishops liked the idea of being able to honestly tell Scott Burdick that they didn't know where his sister and her kids were, but that anyone who tried to get to them would be “shot first, and identified later.” As it turned out, Scott was relieved to know his family was in the hands of the man he listened to on the radio. He offered to do anything in resistance to the Guard, and government in general, and asked them to call him if a militia was going to be organized under Thomas Paine.

The Bishops said little on their way back from Amy's brother's house. Bishop Carter invited him to stay the night to wait out the snow storm until morning, but they were silent otherwise. When they got back to Bishop Carter's house, Phillip was waiting to talk to them both.

"Hey fellas, how would y'all think about trying to work with Thomas Paine to actually organize a real resistance here?" he asked, careful not to reveal Mike's real name. "I think after his show last night, he just might be willing to do it."

Bishop Christensen quickly spoke up "I was thinking about going ahead and working to organize something now, that we can try to turn over to his command once we can meet with him in the spring. But I've asked him a dozen times already, and seem to make him more angry each time."

Bishop Carter was more reserved about the idea. "Do you two hear what you're saying? You want to pick a fight with the government?"

"We're not pickin' the fight," Phillip told him. "They already did that. We'd just be finally fightin' back for a change."

"I just don't know about this."

"I do, and I'm in," Bishop Christensen said. "I've already got a network of people all around Washington County through the church and food distribution, and I know most of them would fight. Especially if they thought Thomas was leading the charge."

"Most everyone I know is more into derby cars, and farmin', but I know a whole lot of 'em, and they'd fight under Thomas Paine," Phillip added.

"I understand the urge to fight, but I... I'm not sure I can do this," Bishop Carter persisted.

Phillip looked down, then stared his son-in-law straight in the eyes. "Well, can we trust you not to say anything to anyone that could mess this up if we make a go of it?"

"Yes Dad. You can trust me. I guess I support the idea. I just don't know if I can be a part of it."

"Would you be okay if we made here a meetin' place?" Phillip asked.

"For now, I guess you could."

Bishop Christensen felt encouraged. "Hey Phillip, Do you know a John Otis?"

"John, hell yeah I know John. Me, him, and Budweiser are each others best friends. How do you know him?"

"He approached me a little while back wanting to do something like this. He said a lot of farmers had livestock hidden and could feed everyone once the government food supply was cut off."

"Yep, we do. I'll get with him and start trying to get some things going."

"Alright!" he said excitedly. "Well, what do you think about starting by scouting out all the Guard stations from Richfield to Mesquite? Map them out, and try to figure out what it would take to shut them down somehow?"

"I can't believe this conversation is happening in my house," Bishop Carter said as he walked off. "You two enjoy yourselves. I'm going to go avoid being a part of this."

Bishop Christensen and Phillip continued their conversation late into the night. They mostly fantasized about the hoped for fighting, not realizing that it would be nothing like the movies. They agreed that Bishop Christensen would try to radio "Thomas" to let him know what they were working on, and that they'd meet again a month later, on March 16th.

Both men were back home the next night and already getting to work recruiting scouts who could be trusted and who could help map out the Guard stations. Bishop Christensen went up a few days later, after the snow melted down some, to radio up to Mike.

"Are you there?" Taylor heard coming over the radio.

"Damn, I thought we'd get to enjoy all winter without hearing from him," she said. Mike grabbed the radio and sent a beep.

"I got the message delivered like you asked. Do you copy?"

Beep.

"In doing so, I met a friend of yours. He said to tell you the 'ornery old bastard' says hello, and congrats on the baby."

"I'll be damned," Mike said, as the ladies all smiled. They all knew who that meant.

Beep.

"We wanted to let you know we were really inspired by the news reports." Mike assumed this was code for his recording. "We're doing some scouting for a good place to camp out, do some shooting, and have a big camp fire."

"This son-of-a-bitch is crazy," Mike exclaimed.

"Why? You put out a call to arms. They're listening," Taylor said.

Stacy and Jessica exclaimed in unison "You did what?"

"Do you copy? We're scouting for a camp to do some shooting and have a bonfire. Are you on board?"

Beep.

Bishop Christensen was so excited to hear a single beep that he jumped slightly, forgetting he was on a snow-covered hillside. He slipped and fell on his side, hearing a crack and feeling sharp pain coming from his left arm.

"I have to go now. I think I just broke my arm. Will radio you again in about a month. Do you copy?"

Beep.

"How the hell did he break his arm?" Mike wondered out loud.

"I hope he's alright," said Taylor. Everyone else gave her a funny look. "What, I do hope he's alright. I don't want him breaking bones. Just getting bruised up good," she continued with a laugh.

"Um, okay, so Mike, you've got some explaining to do,” Jessica said. “You called for an armed resistance? Seriously?"

"Yeah. I sorta did. After what happened to Amy and those kids. People need to start fighting back. And now it looks like the Bishop and Phillip are going to start scouting staging areas to try and attack the Guard from."

"What? I didn't hear him say that," Stacy said.

"He did. That's what the camp talk was about. Finding a place to set up, somewhere to do some shooting, and I'd bet the bonfire comment is for trying to destroy the Guard bases. Burn them down."

"You know what, Mike, just get out the recording and let me listen to it," Jessica demanded.

Mike got her the laptop and said he was going out to the barn. He wanted to scan more channels from the relocated radio station, and start listening in on more government frequencies. Taylor wanted to learn how to use the radio station, so she joined him.

When they got to their newly assembled radio station, Mike directed Taylor to three boxes they had moved down from the cave, telling her if she wanted to learn radio, that's where to start. Inside those three boxes were nothing but books. She was a bit miffed that he had books she hadn't read, but determined to spend her time studying them as she had the rest of his library over the years.

Mike sat scanning mostly military frequencies for about an hour, hearing information that could prove useful, but wasn't really catching his interest. Things like food delivery schedules, updated uniform standards, and daily routine schedules. All intel that would likely change before anyone could act upon it.

Then more interesting reports began coming across. Mike determined that they were reports from outlying stations, reporting to a central regional station. Taylor overheard just enough to make her get up from her reading. They were reports regarding reductions in personnel. Many seemed to be complaints about being stretched to thin to maintain their mission.

Mike pressed a button to record the transmission, as he and Taylor began trying to write down and decipher the terminology. The Saint George station apparently had a 35% personnel reduction, with nearly 75% of that reduction being abandonment. Saint George was requesting pending transfers to Mexico be halted. Very similar numbers were coming out of Mesquite and Cedar City. If they were understanding correctly, Beaver's five man station only had one remaining guardsmen manning it.

"Somewhere they've got a regional base set up," Mike said.

"It sounds like it," she said curiously. "But how do we find it?"

"That's what we'll have to figure out," he said as he sat back in the chair.

As their intrigue with what they were hearing settled in, excitement began to build. Neither were saying anything at first, but both were starting to see the likely correlation between Mike's last 'Thomas Paine' message, and the abandonment happening at every single Guard station in their area.

"Oh my God, Mike! You did it! You've started disarming the Guard without firing a single shot!" Taylor exclaimed excitedly.

“Hey, you two,” they heard from Stacy as she was climbing up to the barn loft with them. “Anything interesting?”

“YES!” Taylor almost screamed. They're having a hard time keeping members in the Guard. A lot of them are abandoning their posts!”

“That's awesome,” Stacy said, very unenthusiastically. “Mike, there's something I don't get.”

“Well, okay. What?”

“How are so few people able to control so many? I mean, it doesn't make any -”

“I got this!” Taylor said, wanting to answer her, but seeking Mike's approval. “People don't like confrontation. They don't like fighting.” She paused to look at Mike. “It's like in the Revolutionary War. It was only a really small percentage of people who were willing to fight. I mean like around 3%. Almost a third of the people didn't take a side in any way. When people have their needs met and feel comfortable, they'll quietly accept oppression with total apathy.”

Taylor sat up proud. She could see the look of approval she was wanting in Mike's eyes.

Chapter 12

Surveillance & Strategy

Several weeks had passed and Mike had continued with his messages, stepping up the threats each time. Bishop Christensen was radioing up to him once a week to confirm that they were following through, taking the threats as orders, and acting upon them before the 'Thomas Paine' broadcasts every Friday evening.

Jessica's pregnancy had progressed along well. She had a few more weeks until the guessed due date, and the fatigue of carrying the baby was starting to take it's toll. She did very little anymore to help around the ranch, spending most of her time sewing and reading.

Taylor was getting more and more excited by the day for the baby's arrival. She was going to be the one to deliver it, with Amy standing by to help since she'd had to do an emergency roadside delivery when Bethany's twins were born. Whenever Taylor wasn't reading up on childbirth or radio, she was working hard in the greenhouses.

Stacy and Amy had each taken charge of the two large pit greenhouses they used to sell out of at farmer's markets. Thanks to an early spring, they had started planting in mid-February, and the first spring crops were about ready to harvest. Just in time for new food deliveries that were to start in a few days.

With so much going on, Amy and the five kids proved to be priceless help. They had moved on from the loss of their loved ones and started building a new life on the ranch. The kids were all home-schooling with Brad, and Amy was helping in the teaching rotation.

It was April 10th, and Mike was taking Taylor down to meet with the Bishop. They were intent on discussing plans to start hijacking supply shipments of food and fuel from what remained of the Guard.

"Tom, Taylor, great to see you!" he greeted the pair as they got to the cedar grove. "I've got a ton of things for you," he said excitedly as he started pulling papers out of boxes.

"Slow down," Mike said "What is all this?"

"It's maps of the Guard stations in Saint George, Mesquite, Cedar City, and Beaver. None of us have been able to get north of Beaver to find out anything up there. But the stations in Parowan and Enterprise both are done. The last guardsmen there walked out and handed over everything they had stored up!"

Mike was starting to question his involvement in the resistance again. He wasn't some skilled military leader. He'd never seen combat. He was just a self-described "electronics nerd" in the Navy who hadn't even owned a gun before moving to Utah. He sighed slightly. "Good news about Parowan and Enterprise. Is all of this organized well enough that I can sort through it later to study at home?"

"Absolutely. I spent all day yesterday making sure everything for each station was together and in order for you."

"Thank you. We'll just load it up and I'll start on it tonight. How many guardsmen are left at the remaining stations?"

"There's a few new guys at each. As best we can tell, we've got a dozen total down here," he answered, referring to nearby Saint George. "Eight in Cedar. and I'm told only two left in Beaver."

"How is it that with only two in Beaver, you can't get north of there?" Mike questioned, seeming annoyed.

"We're trying Mr. Paine. I-15 has been barricaded by some serious military vehicles. These aren't the hummers and pickups they drive around in down here. These are armored combat vehicles with machine guns. They got the high ground on that last summit half way between Beaver and I-70, and those Guard up there aren't abandoning their posts," the Bishop pleaded. "With the snow mostly melted away now, we're hoping to get some guys to take the mountains around, but the Guard is even running helicopter patrols along there. They are really serious about no one getting north of there, and only supply shipments and more guardsmen ever come south."

"What about that back road that goes up to Milford from Cedar?" Mike asked.

"You can get to Milford if you have enough fuel, but they blew up the highways going north and west from there. We still can't get around that last big hill."

"Then that's got to be where that regional base is we've not been able to find," Mike mumbled as he was deep in thought. "Dammit! I'm such a dumb ass!" He suddenly exclaimed.

"No you're not," Taylor said loyally, as the Bishop questioned "What?"

"The junction of interstates 15 and 70. That's where the base is we can't find. They took over the intersection of the interstates. There's some old fort up there from the early pioneer days."

"Cove Fort, you mean?" The Bishop knew exactly where Mike was talking about.

"Yeah! That's it! By controlling strategic interstate points, they've isolated controllable regions. We need to find a way to confirm this. What about that friend of yours you said was talking to folks in Richfield?"

"We've tried getting with some people up there. They're blocked in at the base of the mountain, just west of Joseph. They haven't been able to move west."

"That only adds to the probability then. Okay, look. You don't have to be able to get around that barricade to find out what they're hiding. Start having your scouts get up on mountains with telescopes. They're going to be able to see it from one of these peaks. They'll also be able to get a better assessment of the barricade."

Bishop Christensen felt pretty dumb for not thinking of that idea himself.

“Thomas, there's more,” he said, telling how the Guard had sent some new men into the area. “Mr Paine, these new guys coming in seem a lot more hardened than the kids who've been here for months. I don't think we're going to see any more abandon their posts. We keep following your orders to take stands, holding our guns aimed at them. These new guys have aimed back and taken a few shots at us. They missed, but I don't think they're missing on accident,” the Bishop said with a slight degree of fear in his voice.

“Have your guys shot back?”

“No. They can't really. They're staging themselves between a thousand to twelve hundred yards out. These guys don't know how to shoot that far. I got a few who shoot four to six hundred yards, but most of them are used to killing a deer or elk inside a hundred yards and then putting their gun away for the year.”

The Bishop hesitated for a moment, hoping Mike was going to volunteer to help somehow. “Thomas, I only know one person who can make those kind of shots.”

“You don't know shit!” Mike blurted out, not liking where this was going.

“Phillip does.”

Mike looked down silently. He didn't want to say anything.

“Okay, what if you don't help us fight back when the time comes. Maybe, maybe if you could just teach some of these guys -” Bishop Christen tried to continue.

“You don't learn to shoot a thousand yards or more overnight,” Mike said angrily. “Look, Bishop, teaching your guys is going to require a lot of time and ammunition for practice. Do y'all have at least a thousand rounds each for them to work with?”

“Goodness no.”

“Great. So no skills, no time, and not enough ammo. What about pooling together for just your three or four best shots to be able to practice?”

“Maybe, but it'll be stretching us I think.”

“See what you can come up with. Try to focus primarily on .308 and 30-06.”

“Are those the best guns to use for this stuff?” the Bishop asked.

“Not in my opinion. But they're absolutely capable, and you're bound to have a few hunters who have spent some serious cash on really good rifles. They seem to be the most popular calibers, so they're the ones you can most likely get the most ammo together for.”

“I'll get on it the minute I get home.”

“Look,” Mike continued, “be sure your guys stick with as much of the same ammo as possible. If they use one hundred and fifty grain Remington ammo during one practice session, and then one hundred and sixty-five grain Federal the next time, they don't stand a chance of learning long range shooting. If the ammo isn't consistent, they'll never get consistent enough to build any real skills.”

“Bishop,” Mike said, unsure if he should really continue. “There is one other option for getting good guns and ammo together. I've been monitoring the Guard's radio pretty closely. There's going to be a weapons supply truck coming through tomorrow night. I don't know it's route or what exactly they're carrying.”

“You want us to take it?”

“I can't tell you to do that. I don't know what you guys are ready for. Talk with your men and decide for yourself. The truck is due in at 1:10 am tomorrow. I'd expect it's going to look no different than any other supply trucks to hide it in plain sight.”

“If we can take this truck, will you come fight with us?” the Bishop asked firmly.

“No!”

“We really need -”

“I said no!” Mike stood up more straight. “I've got four women, six kids, soon to be seven, and a lot of the needed food supply to keep safe. I'll help with gathering information and planning. I'll keep doing my radio recordings. But don't ask anything else of me.”

Mike turned and walked off to get in his truck.

Taylor grabbed the Bishop's arm to briefly talk to him by herself. “Hey, I'll try to see if I can bring down a book on our next trip that teaches a lot about long-range shooting.”

Bishop Christensen seemed relived. “Oh that would be wonderful, Taylor! As long as it doesn't cause problems between you two.”

“Nah, he's not going to get mad at me. And I'd bet he'll agree loaning a book is okay.”

“Any help we can get is great,” he said, patting her on the shoulder.

“I'll try to talk to him about finding a way that he would feel is safe for me to help train a few of your guys, but no promises on that.”

“Thank you, Taylor. You better get going before he gets mad at me for holding you up.”

At dinner that night, Taylor told the others about what the Bishop had said, and what he'd asked of Mike. Mike ate silently, his expressionless face making it known he didn't want to talk about it. To his surprise, they were actually encouraging him to do more to help the resistance. If not actually serving as a long-range shooter, then at least trying to train a few other men. Out of pure frustration, he finally spoke up.

“Look, I've got a lot on my mind, and enough responsibility already. I'm already going to feel guilty if people get killed fighting back. And I've got to keep this ranch safe. That starts with keeping a low profile.”

“A low profile?” Stacy said in a mocking voice. “Mike, your alias is the name on everyone's tongue. Your voice is the one everyone is following. Are you really encouraging people to do something you're not willing to do yourself?”

He had heard enough. Mike got up and walked out to the barn to be away from the others, hoping to go back in after they were asleep. Jessica gave him about thirty minutes alone before joining him. She was once again there to help calm him down, and trying to give him another one of her pep talks. But this time his mind was set. He wasn't joining the fighting.

Later the next day, Mike was out at his radio station listening in again to what the Guard was doing. He was hoping to identify a pattern in their supply shipments, but it was totally erratic. Nothing was ever delivered on the same day or at the same time from week to week. He had a feeling the Bishop was going to try to take that weapons truck that night, and was hoping to make it easier to seize other supply trucks. But this was apparently going to require a last minute operation, and with Brad yelling for him to come eat lunch, it was something he'd have to work on plans for later.

When he came out of the barn, Brad was holding keys in his hand. “Mom wants you to go pick up Amy and the kids and bring them up here for lunch. Can I drive?”

“You want to drive, huh? Well, not while we've got other people riding along. And I think it'd be better to start you off in the S-10, not the Suburban. Maybe we can get you some driving time in later though son. I think you're big enough.”

Jessica and Mike went for a short walk after lunch together. “Jess, we've got to figure out what to do about Amy and the kids. It's spring time, and they don't seem all that eager to leave.”

“Do you want them gone?”

“I don't know. I guess I don't really care much either way. I don't want her thinking anything weird if we ask her to stay, you know? I like Brad having all the other kids around.”

“Well, then maybe the best thing to do for now is nothing. If they want to leave, they can, and if not they can stay.”

Mike simply nodded his head, agreeing with her.

Everyone, including Amy and her kids, all went down for the food drop the next day, as Bishop Christensen had asked them to. He had his grandsons and five other families with him for a grill-out and social gathering. Mike wasn't particularly happy to be there, but he was glad the ladies and kids all enjoyed talking and playing.

While the Bishop cooked up BBQ pork from a hog he'd been given, he had the other five men trying cautiously to get Mike warmed up to the idea of training them. Taylor stayed by his side to try and help him stay calm. She did her best to answer most of their questions about long distance shooting, since she'd been training since her early teens, and she loaned them the book The Ultimate Sniper, by John Plaster. Mike barely said a word, feeling like he'd been tricked and cornered by the Bishop.

As they were finishing eating, Bishop Christensen called out to Mike and Taylor. “Hey, can you two walk over here with me for a minute. I've got a present for you,” he said with his usual big goofy smile, as he headed over to his own truck.

They followed him around as he opened his camper shell. “Holy shit!” Mike yelled at the top of his voice, getting everyone's attention. “You guys did it? I... I didn't hear anything on their radio this morning about it.”

“This is all yours,” the bishop said with a big smile and a sense of pride.

Sitting there in the bed of his truck were two Barrett M107A1 rifles sitting on top of several tightly packed boxes full of .50BMG  rounds.

“That bag in the back is full of extra magazines too,” he said. He was holding his head high, proud that he had apparently impressed Mike. “I'm not going to stop asking you to join the fight, but even if you don't, these should do a lot to help keep the Paine Clan safe up there.”

“Bishop, this is an awesome gift. But don't you think you and your men need it more if you're going to fight the Guard?”

“Don't worry about that. We kept six of these, and this is only about a tenth of the ammo for them we got. We got a few dozen M4's with over a hundred cases of 5.56mm rounds as well.”

“Wow! You guys really did score,” Mike said.

“Saint George was only one stop on the truck's run. We got it's manifest, and this shipment was intended to supply ten different stations around the southern half of the state.”

Taylor finally broke her silence, after staring in awe at the guns. “So, so this is mine?” she asked, picking up one of the rifles.

“That's yours young lady,” the Bishop affirmed, patting her on the shoulder.

Taylor held on to her rifle the rest of the day, absolutely giddy over knowing it was hers. When they got home, they unloaded a few boxes of ammo into the barn, then Mike told the others he wanted a few days to himself and would be up at the cave. Finding himself in such a social setting, and so unexpectedly, was mentally hard on him. Especially on top of everything else that was going on.

Chapter 13

Death & Life

Mike returned home from the cave three days later. All the kids were out playing a game they'd made up, similar to baseball. The ladies were all sitting on the porch watching the kids, talking and laughing.

“Hey!” Taylor almost squealed as she ran up to give him a hug.

“We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to come back,” Stacy quipped.

“Of course I was coming back. It's my home isn't it,” he replied with a smirk.

“Sure, Mike, you keep telling yourself that,” Jessica said as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Hey, um, we've got something we were wanting to talk to you about,” Amy cut in. “I've been thinking about me and the kids. And we'd like to stay up here at the ranch with you all if you're okay with it.”

“I already told her to consider that house hers,” Jessica added.

“Welcome to the family then, I guess,” Mike said.

“Well, we want to stay, but we'd really like to at least go visit Bethany's parents and my brother, just once. I guess to try and find some closure finally,” Amy continued. “Stacy said she'd be willing to drive us over there for maybe a two or three day visit.”

“Well, okay. I guess so,” Mike replied. “We'd need to put a small transfer tank in the back so you've got enough gas for the trip. And I want both you ladies, Jason and Steve all armed, just in case.”

“We've already got that done. Everything is ready to go,” Stacy said. “We wanted to leave immediately so we could be back in time for her to help Taylor deliver the baby.”

“Wow, okay. Um -”

“They'll be fine, Mike,” Jessica said, grabbing his hand. “They need this to help them really move on.”

“Okay, then I guess you all better get going soon so you can make the most of the time,” he said.

“Mike, Brad wanted to go too,” Jessica added. “Amy said she'd love to have him along. I'm a little hesitant, but I think it'd be good for him to get out a little bit.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I guess. I think it'd be good for him too. Plus, the boy's a hell of a shot. Tell him he can go if he takes the little .22 pistol and his .223.”

Amy didn't care much for the idea of sending Brad with his guns. “You want to send a ten-year-old out armed like that?” she asked.

“Damn right I do. If you do encounter a problem, that boy is at least as good of a shot as any of you, if not better than all of you put together.”

So they all piled in to Stacy's Suburban and headed off to visit Amy's family. Mike, Jessica and Taylor saw them off. The three of them stood watching, slightly nervously, as the others disappeared behind a trail of dust.

“So what are we going to do for three days with no kids around?” Taylor asked.

Jessica had already been thinking about that. “It's warm enough to enjoy being outside, so my big ass is going to strip down and burn under the sun.”

Taylor liked the idea of getting a tan and said she was going to join her.

“I've got new toys waiting to be played with!” Mike said with a big grin.

He had enjoyed his makeshift .50 caliber rifle for years, but it never had the consistency that a high end rifle would. His .300 Win Mag and his .270 were both exceptionally consistent rifles that he had spent a good deal of money on. But he never could make himself spend the money that a Barrett would have cost him. He was eager to test them out and see if they were as well built as he'd dreamed of.

After a few hours of firing off rounds, Mike was both happy and sore. The recoil on these was a lot softer than his old .50 caliber, but after two hours of shooting, his shoulder was really feeling it. He wasn't going to go back out the next day. But he was extremely pleased with the performance of the new rifles, and his own steadiness aiming a full mile down the canyon.

He got back to the house to find Taylor standing at the grill, pulling three large steaks off onto plates. The afternoon breeze had certainly cooled things down a lot from the warm afternoon they'd enjoyed. Taylor had done a terrific job on dinner, with fried cabbage and some peas on the sides. They then laid blankets out on the floor to play a game of Monopoly. Mike insisted they were cheating, but didn't care. He was enjoying watching them be silly, like girls having a slumber party.

“I hope it stays warm the whole time they're gone,” Taylor said as she laid there staring at the ceiling.

“I hope it just stays warm, period. I'm sick of the cold,” Mike remarked.

A hundred miles west, Steve, Jacob and Stephanie were getting to see their grandparents for the first time since their parents had died. Dale Westen had called Scott to let him know his sister was down from the mountain, and Scott invited them all to come stay at his place just outside Modena.

Scott Burdick had a little five acre farm that he lived on with his wife Gerri. They couldn't have kids themselves, and adored their nieces and nephews. Amy used to visit frequently before the crash, and Bethany almost always came with her kids too so they could visit her parents as well. So Dale and Scott knew each other well, and both had always been as much a part of the kids lives as they could be from so far away.

There was a lot of sadness that first night at Scott's house. They took turns to, one at a time, each tell the others about a happy memory they had with those who had died. Stacy was able to answer a lot of questions Dale and Scott both had about their final moments, and about the ranch they were living at, though she did avoid Dale's several attempts to find out where it was located.

The next day was mostly happier for everyone. Trisha and Gerri were excited to fix everyone a big breakfast. The previous evening had seemed to really bring them all the closure they were seeking. They spent the day playing games of croquet and badminton and generally having a good time.

Dale and Trisha both made numerous remarks throughout the day about their grandkids coming to live with them, and not going back with the others to the ranch. Scott was still thrilled to know that his sister and the kids were safely hidden at the “Paine Ranch,” as he called it. They all mostly ignored Dale's and Trisha's comments, but as it came closer to dinner time, Steve decided someone needed to say something.

“Will you two please stop?” he said, raising his voice and making his annoyance clear.

“Excuse me?” Trisha seemed surprised by her grandson's comment.

“Stop. We're not coming to live with you. We just came down to visit, and all this talk is making the trip not as fun.”

Dale reacted angrily, as he'd been planning for months to take in the kids the first chance he got. “Steven Hepworth Jr.! Don't you talk to your grandmother like that.” He calmed himself down slightly and continued. “Son, I know you've been through a lot. I can't imagine losing both your parents and your little brother like you did. But you're still a kid, and you don't get to make this decision.”

“Grandpa, I love you. But the decision is already made. We're going back. And if you want us to come visit again, you'll stop.”

“Boy, I'm not letting you go back up with those strangers on the mountain. You're family, and you're staying with family.”

“That's right. I am staying with family,” the young man replied firmly. “Aunt Amy, and Jason, and Anna, plus Jacob and Stephanie. We're all family. We've all lived together our whole lives. We all went through this together. And we're all going back tomorrow together.”

Dale looked to Scott, hoping that he would help try to make them all stay.

Scott tried not to grin as he took Steve's side. “You don't want to look at me in this Dale. I agree with Steve. As much as I want to have them all here, I love them enough to want what's best for them. And if Amy, Steve, and Jason say going back is what's best, then I support them.”

Dale was fuming mad, and Trisha was crying as if they'd all just died. Dale turned his anger on Stacy. “You better tell me how to come up there to visit my grandkids!”

“Sir, I'm so sorry for all you've been through, but I cannot do that. You wouldn't -”

Dale jumped out of his chair in a rage. “Listen here you little bitch! Tell me -”

“Sit down and shut the hell up!” Brad stood and said in the loudest, most stern voice he could. Dale looked at Brad angrily, but calmed down immediately seeing the young boy pointing a pistol straight at his head.

It was dead silent, and the tension in the room was thick. “Brad. Look at me, Brad. He's not going to hurt me. Everyone's calmed down now,” Stacy said, putting her hand on the gun to lower it.

Seeing the gun lowered, Dale began sobbing. Brad was strangely calm and poised. Stacy put her arm around the old man. “We'll do the best we can to keep you in touch with the kids, and make arrangements to visit whenever possible. No one wants to hurt your relationship with them.”

“Why can we not come see them?” Trisha begged. “We'll just follow you home.”

“Ma'am -” Stacy started to say before Brad bluntly cut her off.

“Lady, if you try that, I'll shoot out your tires so my daddy doesn't shoot you for following us.”

“It's just like the Bishop told us when they came to tell us about the others not making it,” Scott reminded Dale. “Thomas Paine is going to shoot first, and identify later.”

Everyone was again quiet for a while. Amy and Gerri ushered the kids outside to play some more until the sun went down. The rest of the adults all sat at the table, wondering who would break the silence first.

Stacy spoke up. “Scott, the Bishop who came up here to tell you about... um. Anyways, do you know how to get a hold of him?”

Dale answered before Scott could. “I'm sure I can get a number for him from our Bishop. They know each other.”

“Good. Okay, Bishop Christensen is one of the few people we trust much. He doesn't even know where we live, but he can get messages to us. I know it's not ideal, but that's one way we can try to keep you all in touch better from now on.”

“Well our Bishop's father-in-law knows where you live,” Dale said back with a snide tone.

“Who - oh, Phillip?” Stacy said as Dale nodded. “Phillip wouldn't dare tell you where we live,” she laughed. “He respects our privacy more than that. Stick with sending messages through Bishop Christensen for now, and I'll talk with my husband to see what better arrangements we can make, alright?”

The next afternoon, Mike, Jessica and Taylor were all enjoying the last afternoon of quiet. He was on the verge of taking a nap while they were taking advantage of their last chance to lay out without kids around.

“What the hell... Is that... Oh, shit! Taylor go grab my rifle! Y'all get your robes on. Stacy's driving back like a bat out out hell.”

“Oh my God! I hope she doesn't wreck. What the hell is she doing going that fast?” Jessica said, as Taylor ran as fast as she could.

Mike was quickly setting up his new Barrett on it's bi-pod and found the Suburban in his sights. “Oh no! No, no, no, no. They've been shot at. Do you see anyone following them?” Mike yelled.

“It's hard to tell in her dust trail. I can't tell. I don't think there's anyone behind them,” Jessica answered.

“Dammit, Stacy, slow down,” Taylor mumbled softly as she watched the speeding truck.

Mike had stopped watching the Suburban and was focused on the clearing dirt road, eager to empty his magazine into anyone that was following. Taylor ran back over to where the Suburban would soon be coming up the hill, and Jessica went inside to start getting towels, water and first-aid supplies ready in case anyone was hurt.

The Suburban came up the hill by their house full speed, and skidded to a stop, hitting one of their trailers. Jason jumped out of the driver's seat screaming for help. Taylor was running as fast as she could barefoot, falling to the ground screaming as she got there.

“Is anyone following you?” Mike yelled at the top of his lungs. No one heard him over all the screaming and crying.

Jessica came out with her arms full and set everything down, putting her hands over her mouth in horror. She looked over to Mike as he was yelling again, trying to watch the road below. She heard him, but no one else did. So she hurried as best she could manage, shaking Jason by the shoulders to get an answer. He couldn't speak. Jessica leaned into the door and yelled at Brad, who she saw in the back on top of the fuel tank with his gun in hand.

“No, mom, nobody's following us.”

Jessica yelled out to Mike, who immediately rushed as best he could once he knew he didn't have to watch the road.

“Oh my God!” Mike yelled, as he too started crying.

“Come on, baby, we've got to get everyone out and taken care of. Mike, get yourself together,” Jessica said to both Taylor and Mike.

The three of them began pulling everyone out of the tattered Suburban, trying to figure out who was hurt, and how severely. Taylor used some broken glass to cut her robe for bandages. Jason just sat on the ground in shock. They could tell he hadn't been hit, but couldn't get him to help. Brad had been shot in his left shoulder, and was up using his right arm to help hold a piece of cloth on Anna's leg.

As she finished getting the last wound's cleaned and bandaged, Jessica began to break down, sobbing and crying uncontrollably. Stacy, her best friend for fifteen years, was dead. Taylor, crying just as hard, crawled across the ground to cuddle up with the body of the woman who'd taken her in and raised her.

Brad and Amy had the most minor wounds and were trying to keep an eye on everyone else. Steve and Jacob's bodies were lying beside Stacy's outside. Amy had been hit in her thigh and cut up badly by the broken glass. Anna was shot in the stomach and both legs. Stephanie had a hole in her upper right chest. And Brad's left shoulder wound tore down his arm, exiting near his tricep.

Mike sat near Brad and Amy, stone-faced and emotionless.

“Daddy, we shot back. I shot two of them. We tried, Daddy,” Brad said as he started to cry.

Mike glanced over at Amy, his dead-looking eyes scaring her some. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded.

“There was a road block in Newcastle as we were coming back from Modena. They were taking people out of their cars, taking everything, and making people kneel on the roadside. Stacy decided to run around the barricades and they just started shooting,” Amy said. She was in too much shock and pain to cry.

“There were four of them, Daddy. I shot two of them. I shot them. But I couldn't hit the other two,” Brad said, feeling like he should have been able to save everyone.

“Son, you did perfect.”

“I shot the two. And the others got in their truck to chase us. Steve's Grandpa was behind us on the road and he rammed his truck into them for us.”

Brad, Taylor and Jessica eventually cried themselves to sleep that night. Mike was able to get Jason inside. He seemed to be coming out of his shock, but was still showing no emotion and wasn't talking. Mike thanked him for taking over and getting everyone back, telling him he saved the lives of those who were still living. Mike and Amy never slept, and never spoke. They both stayed up all night watching over the the injured kids.

The next morning Taylor was still sitting in what was left of her shredded robe. Amy hadn't moved in hours. Everyone else was asleep when they woke up in fear to the loud boom of a gun shot. A second loud shot followed quickly, prompting Brad and Jessica to both grab guns sitting near them.

“It's Mike,” Taylor told them. “He got up and went out with the new guns.”

Jessica stood staring out the window in the direction of their gun range.

“What's he doing?” Jason asked, speaking his first words since yelling for help.

Taylor and Jessica both answered him. “He's getting ready to fight back.”

He took his time practicing, spending nearly two hours to fire off  twenty rounds. He was dreading returning home, knowing he needed to get his tractor out to dig a hole to bury the bodies. As bad as he wanted to, he didn't have the time, nor materials, readily available to build them caskets.

Mike dug out a hole opposite his road from the house, eight feet deep, ten feet long, and six feet wide. Jason helped him to carefully lay the bodies out, with Stacy lying between Steve and Jacob. Amy used Mike's crutches to come out, with Taylor and Jessica at her side. All three women were fighting their tears, and starting to feel the rage that Mike felt. Brad was staying inside with the other injured children so he could call out for help if one of them needed it.

Jason took the lead as they all stood around staring down in the hole at the murdered remains of their loved ones. He began talking about his fond memories of each, following the example of what they had done at Scott's house just days ago. Jessica started to go next, but again broke down crying, falling to the dirt underneath her feet.

Taylor knelt down to try to comfort her when Jessica very abruptly stopped crying. Mike watched from across the hole as Jessica's emotions seemed to just disappear. Her tears stopped and she reached down, firmly pressing her hand against her lower abdomen.

“Oh, no,” Amy said, knowing exactly what was happening.

Mike hurried around the hole to them asking “What's wrong?”

“We've got to get her inside. The baby is coming,” Amy told him.

Mike couldn't tell if his heart had just stopped, or was beating too fast to feel it. Jason rushed over to help him pick her up, only to be pushed away by Jessica. “I can walk. Just help me get up,” she told the two, who were terrified of doing anything slightly wrong.

They got Jessica inside and on the bed while Taylor helped Amy make the walk. Jessica threw off her robe as she laid back on the bed, sending Jason running from the house. Mike did all he could to help make her comfortable. Amy made her way in to the room and sat on a chair Taylor brought in for her.

Mike all but froze up as he sat near Jessica's head, not moving at all during the three-hour labor. He had helped deliver countless animals over the years. Goats, sheep, cattle, dogs and cats. He had even once rescued a baby deer whose doe had died. But this wasn't an animal. This was a human, and it was one he had a part in creating.

When the screaming from Jessica, and loud talking from Taylor and Amy, had all stopped, Mike's house, that had for so many years been his quiet refuge, was filled with the sound of a baby crying. Taylor carefully held up the pale little body for them all to see. “It's a boy!” she announced.

She got up and brought the newborn over for Mike to see. He just stared at his little son, scared and amazed. He'd never seen a baby up close like that. Jessica reached up and took the baby in her arms, cuddling him against her warm body. Mike held the same blank face he'd had since last night. Only now it wasn't blank with rage, but with fear, confusion, and elation.

“You can touch him, Mike. It's okay,” she told him.

“No, not yet,” Taylor said. “Go wash all that dirt off your hands first.”

Mike had forgotten to clean his hands of the dirt and dried blood from moving the dead bodies. He looked down at his hands. Some of that was bits of Stacy's dried blood that had rubbed off her body on to him. His beloved Stacy, not able to see or hold this beautiful new member of their family.

Mike walked away, wanting to cry again, but where the others wouldn't see him. Taylor couldn't let him miss these first moments of his son's life and went outside with him. He wrapped his arms around her and wept onto her shoulder for a little while, then told her he'd be in to see the young boy after he finished filling in the new grave. He turned to walk over, and saw that Jason had already done the job for him. Something to occupy his teen-aged mind and keep him out of the house.

Brad was standing in the kitchen when Taylor brought Mike back in. He had spent more than an hour working with only his right arm to fix everyone a salad while they were busy bringing his new little brother into the world. Mike gave him a kiss on the forehead, told him he could come see the baby soon, and thanked him for preparing lunch.

Jessica was emotional when Mike came in. The newborn was nursing for his first time, and she had seen Mike crying through the window.

“She should be here,” Jessica said to him. “It's just not right.”

“I know. I know,” Mike agreed, as he cracked a slight smile at his new son. He leaned over and gently kissed the boy's hand.

“What do you think of the name Anthony?” Jessica asked.

“I was thinking Alexander,” he smiled.

Taylor chimed in, “I think Anthony Alexander is a perfect name.”

The proud new parents nodded. Anthony Alexander Williams it would be.

They sat and soaked in the joy of new life for most of the afternoon before the rage over the loss of life began to creep back in. The three of them were laying there silently watching young Anthony sleep when Jessica whispered “I want you to kill them. I want anyone wearing a uniform, like the ones Stacy's murderers wore, dead.”

Mike and Taylor looked in each others eyes, sharing Jessica's feeling exactly. No more words had to be said.

Chapter 14

Justice & Liberty

The next morning, Taylor and Mike were loading up their little S-10 truck with their new Barrett rifles, a pair of AR-15's, and their 9mm handguns on their hips. Jessica, Amy and Jason had all helped to load up ten extra magazines per gun.

Jessica pulled them both to the side as they were about to leave. “You listen to me. You kill.... you kill every Guardsmen you can find. And then you get back here. You come back here to me alive and well. Am I understood?”

Taylor's eyes were cold, now devoid of any happiness. “No Guardsmen in this area get to wake up tomorrow,” she said

Mike just squeezed Jessica's hand and walked away.

They first headed down to Mesquite, NV, where the Guard station had been setup as a barricade on the west end of town right in the middle of Interstate 15, at the top of the exit at Riverside Rd.

The resistance was closer originally, but had lost a man to a single shot fired from 1,100 yards. They had backed away to a mile east of the station on the Interstate, and had a few men stationed at their own barricade south on Riverside Rd.

Mike and Taylor pulled up behind the men who were posted there in response to his radio threats. As one of the men approached, both quickly got out of the truck. Taylor set up a wind gauge, range finder, and spotting scope almost as quickly as Mike was able to climb into the bed of the truck, and set up the Barrett M107A1 on the roof of the cab.

“Identify yourselves,” the man called out to them, as the rest of the men and women there started surrounding the small truck, curious about the man and the rifle.

“Light winds, south, three miles per hour,” Taylor said.

“I said, identify yourselves,” he repeated himself.

Mike gave the man a hard stare.

“Please,” the man added.

Taylor continued, “Range is 1,790 yards. There's a fuel tank in the rear to the right. What looks to be a propane tank just to the left behind the tent. Two guardsmen, prone, aiming our direction. Two other guardsmen entered the tent, and one walking around.”

He adjusted his scope based on Taylor's information, then looked around at the group staring at them.

“Sir,” the man spoke up, wanting to know who he was talking to.

“How many guardsmen are up there?” Mike asked as everyone stared on in awe.

“Oh my God. Sir, it's you?”

“I said how many!” Mike demanded.

“Eight, sir,” a woman spoke up. “There's eight that we know of.”

“Listen up,” Mike said as everyone stood up straight, all eyes focused on him. “Their oppression is over. When I give the order, you are all going to rush that station. You will not leave anyone stationed there alive. Everything there now belongs to you. Use it well to defend the people of Mesquite from any attempt by the Guard to reestablish a base here. Any questions?”

“Thank you sir!” several people shouted out.

“Get in your vehicles. Guns ready. When I yell, you go. Reclaim your liberty!”

Mike leaned over and braced himself against the rear of the trucks cab and sighted in on the men out front aimed at them. First on the man on the right. Mike squeezed his trigger, sending the first shot of the organized resistance.

“About eight inches low, but the ricochet got him,” Taylor called out.

The man on the left immediately jumped up and started backing up.

“You're a bigger target standing up. Thanks dumb ass,” Taylor mumbled as Mike squeezed the trigger again, dropping the man in his tracks.

“Four just came out of the tent. Two kneeling and firing what appear to be M-16's. Their shots are way short.”

Mike missed his third shot, but quickly eliminated the two men shooting, then took aim on the fuel tank and sent fuel pouring out of it on to the ground. The propane tank was next. Nothing visible happened, but Mike was confident he had hit it. As a guardsmen jumped into a truck parked around back, there was an explosion. Something sparked and set off the propane, followed by the fuel tank.

“Two more guardsmen, running to the left,” Taylor called out.

Mike swung around and fired two rounds. Both missed, but hit close enough to get their attention. The men knelt down with their hands in the air.

“Two rounds left,” Taylor said, setting another magazine on the roof for him.

“GO!” he screamed. The local resistance fighters slammed on their gas pedals and followed his order.

Mike and Taylor grabbed their stuff, and headed straight for Saint George, UT. The guard station there was setup in the middle of town at Vernon Worthen park. There were two resistance positions: one on Red Hills Parkway, and one at the old airport. Mike headed to the one on Red Hills first.

Arriving there, these fighters seemed better organized. They had the road blocked and guarded. Mike pulled to the barricade and slowed down as a young man raised his gun and ordered them to stop. “Get out of your vehicle,” he demanded.

Mike wasn't moving. The young man called over his shoulder to an older man who appeared to be in charge, then again demanded, “Get out of your vehicle.”

Mike again didn't move.

As the older man approached the young sentry, Taylor recognized him as one of the men who came with Bishop Christensen to pick up livestock from them. She opened her door and got out, yelling to the young man, “Lower your weapon and get out of my way!”

The young man aimed straight for her, and the older man swiftly disarmed him and ordered him to let them through. Taylor walked up along side Mike as he drove. “Thank you,” she said to the older man.

“Yes ma'am. It's an honor to have you two here,” he said

Taylor stared down the younger man who was guarding the barricade, then walked over to a central area.

“Did I do something wrong, sir?” he asked.

The older man shook his head. “No, you didn't. But now that you've seen them, if you ever point a gun in their direction again I'll shoot you myself.”

“Who is that?” the young man wanted to know.

“That's Thomas Paine driving the truck,” he answered him as he turned and ran to catch up to Taylor.

“Men, gather 'round!” he yelled.

Mike stayed in his truck. He didn't want to deal with anyone if he could avoid it.

Taylor turned and grabbed her range finder. “1,157 yards. Bad field of view.”

“Yes ma'am,” the man said. “And an even worse field of view they have of us.”

“We can't shoot from here,” she said to Mike.

“No ma'am. This was our best spot to be able to monitor them without their new sharpshooters killing us.”

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

The other fighters were all whispering to themselves, wondering who this beautiful young woman was that their Commander was so gleefully taking orders from.

When the Commander was done updating Taylor on the status of the guard station, she returned to the truck and told Mike they would need to go over to the old airport.

The Commander ran to his truck, yelling at his men “Escort that little old truck to Hurricane Mesa, and guard them with your life!”

As they approached the old airport, the Commander honked and yelled at the sentries, and they swiftly removed their barricade. Mike and the others drove through without an issue and they gathered in a gravel overlook past the Rocco Inn.

Taylor again jumped out of the truck and headed to the edge with her range finder. “1,570 yards. Still a bad field of view, but better. No matter how we do this, there's a lot of innocent property and life between us and them.”

“Commander, who is this?” a man called out as Mike got out of his truck.

“Men, women. This is General and Mrs. Thomas Paine. They're in charge, and we will follow their orders.”

Taylor and Mike just looked at each other. If not so determined and focused on killing guardsmen, they would have laughed at the assumption that they were husband and wife.

Some gathered around saluted, and some went to whispering. No one knew what to think. The tall, bulky man with his long hair and beard was not what they had imagined. Especially not with a woman that looked like Taylor.

Mike paid no attention to anyone there. He looked through the spotting scope at their target. “Who here can give me the most information about the Guard station from this point of view?”

A young woman stepped forward “I believe that would be me, sir.”

“How old are you?” Taylor asked her.

“I'm seventeen ma'am.”

“This is my daughter,” The commander said of the young woman. “She's got an eidetic memory, and I put her over here because it doesn't seem their shooters can hit us over here.”

“So, what?” Taylor asked. “That means you never forget anything?”

“Something like that.”

“Talk,” Mike commanded, holding a map of the station Bishop Christensen had given him.

“Sir, our men who are out training right now to learn to shoot that far have this spot in mind,” she said, pointing to a tent nearly center of the park. “That's their galley, and all but a few of them are in there every meal time. This corner is the ideal place to hit. There's a moderate sized propane tank there. The problem is, from up here, there's tree cover slightly blocking that corner. But from the ground level, they've put up reinforced concrete barriers around it.”

“How long until they gather to eat?”

“We've got about forty-five minutes until they should have lunch. They're fairly consistent with that schedule, but two or three times per week they eat at different times, and we never know when that's going to happen.”

Mike gave her a nod and walked over to Taylor standing by the edge of the cliff to look through the spotting scope again.

“Listen up!” he yelled to the group standing around him. “We're going to go on the assumption that they're eating on schedule today. You will stay here with us,” he pointed to the young lady, “while the rest of you are going to get yourselves positioned within two to four blocks of the park.”

Mike turned to the commander as he continued. “I assume you've got radios to communicate during this attack?”

“The only thing that everyone has are CB radios. They try to monitor us, so we rotate channels regularly,” he replied.

“What did you use last?”

“Channel 28 sir,” his daughter replied.

“Okay, everyone tune to 13 then.”

“Sir, if I may.”

Mike nodded to the young lady.

“Two things sir. Most importantly, the reason we haven't already tried to rush them is their traps. They've blocked off all except the east side of 300 South for at least four blocks and have motion sensor-activated explosives set up all over the place. There's more of us than them, but we can't get in,” she said.

“Okay, what else?” Mike asked

“Well sir, there's a room in the motel over there that you can get a better shot from. You still can't see the side of the tent you need to, but I believe the view of the tent overall is better.”

“What's your name?”

“Amanda Matheson, sir.”

Mike stood silent for a moment to think, when Taylor spoke up. “Can you rig up one of these vehicles to drive unmanned. Tie up the steering wheel and put a block on the gas pedal maybe?” she asked the Commander.

“I see what you're getting at,” he replied. “I'm sure we can come up with something. Hell, I'll drive it through myself to set off those bombs and clear a path if I have to.”

“Good enough,” Mike interrupted, taking back over. “Miss Matheson here will be the voice you're listening for. Any order she gives stands. If she says go, we will immediately open fire on their galley tent. Hopefully I'll hit the propane tank and it will blow up. You will rush the station and leave no one there alive.” Mike hesitated for a moment. “For any of you who live through this, everything in that station you are to claim for your group and use to defend against any other Guard returning here. Load up and move out!”

“Taylor, grab your Barrett too. We're both going to unleash several magazines on that station at the same time,” he told her. “As soon as you hear my first shot, rain hell on that camp.”

They both followed Amanda to the motel room she mentioned and setup for the shot.

“Amanda, take this radio,” Taylor instructed her. “It's our two-way. I have to be able to monitor wind conditions. I'll radio to you what they are, you relay that to him.”

“Yes ma'am.”

As they were waiting to hear from Taylor, Amanda became star-struck, being alone with the man behind the voice she'd listened to for months.

“I can't believe I'm standing here with you sir. Can, can I ask you a question sir?”

“You just did,” Mike coldly responded.

“Sir, is Thomas Paine your real name?”

“Young lady, you need to stick with questions that pertain to you. And nothing about me fits that criteria.”

“Yes sir,” She waited a while before speaking up again. “Sir. My father and his friends say you have a few wives. I just want to tell you, if you ever want another -”

Taylor's voice came over the two-way radio. “Winds are from the northwest, eight miles per hour.”

“Sir, she said -”

“I heard her. Repeat her message back to her to let her know you got it.”

Amanda repeated the message.

“Tell her we will ask for an update when I'm about ready to fire.”

Amanda relayed the message, and heard Taylor confirm she got it.

It was again silent. Pleasant for Mike, but uncomfortable for Amanda.

“Sir, You are such an inspiration to everyone wanting freedom. And I would love the chance to become -”

“You need to stop,” Mike said as he turned to see young Amanda removing her shirt. “What the hell do you think you're doing? Keep your damn clothes on. We're here for a purpose. You're worth more than this.”

Amanda was too embarrassed to say anything else. They sat and silently waited until they could see if the guardsmen were gathering to eat or not. About fifteen minutes later, they saw some uniformed men making their way to the target tent.

“Ask for an updated wind status.”

Amanda did as told and repeated Taylor's status back to confirm that the winds were unchanged.

Mike waited a few more minutes before breaking the silence without even slightly moving from his rifle. “Amanda, don't ever again try to do that for someone you barely know. You have an infatuation with a voice and rumors, and nothing more than that. Save yourself and keep your dignity until you find someone you love.”

“I -,” she started to say before letting out a groan. “Yes sir,” she answered.

Amanda had never seen someone be killed before, but she was watching through the spotting scope in anticipation.

“Give the 'Go' order,” he told her.

Amanda slowly brought her CB to her mouth. “GO!” she screamed, in an almost panicked voice. Mike had to hesitate to recover from the surprise of how she gave the order. Then, he started firing. Taylor followed immediately. Their first ten round magazines were emptied within seconds. A series of small explosions could be seen along 200 South, letting them know the locals were moving in. He loaded up his second magazine and continued firing until it was empty. There was no motion from the tent they had just watched several men walk into. Mike loaded up one last magazine and proceeded to empty it. On his eighth shot, the tent exploded in a fiery ball. He stepped back and sat on the bed in the room.

Amanda was almost in tears holding her ears from the rapid, thirty loud booms in the enclosed space of the small room. Mike stood back up and guided her to the bed. “Someone will be back later. We have to go,” he told her, carefully mouthing his words knowing she probably couldn't hear him over the ringing in her ears. Mike grabbed his gun and gear and headed down to the truck where Taylor was waiting on him. Her ears were ringing as well, and their shoulders were really sore.

“Off to Cedar City,” he yelled, not realizing how loud he was talking. Taylor leaned over to hug him, barely able to hear anything herself. The two successful missions seemed to be bringing peace to her though. Justice for all the tragedy the Guard had brought to their life.

Cedar City's Guard station was the one that brought them the most anxiety. They both knew this was most likely where the guardsmen who killed Stacy had been sent from. As they approached, both found themselves fighting back tears.

The Guard station in Cedar City was in Cedar Middle School. A strategic location situated on a hill with excellent access to Walmart, where they were running most of the supply distribution to the area, and to the interstate.

The group of resistance fighters Phillip had gathered together were posting themselves over at Best Buy Motor Sales, a used car dealership that had shut down after the crash. It was inside the range of the Guard's sharpshooters, and the men all stayed mostly behind the building. They had only received one shot, but it had killed the one man they had there who was aiming at the school building.

Mike and Taylor pulled up and saw no one. Taylor started to open her door, and heard some voices coming from around the back of the building, so they drove around to see who it was. “Are you kidding me?” Taylor said as they first laid eyes upon the half drunk men sitting around with their rifles. “Mike, we can't do this. We're maybe 1,200 yards from their station. They're going to shoot you before you can even look through your scope.”

They decided to get out of the truck to see how the group of men would respond. One of them made the wisecrack, “Look, ZZ Top brought us a play toy!” which Taylor quickly reacted to by kicking the man between his legs. The other seven men surrounded them, checking out Taylor, and trying to assess whether Mike was a danger or not. When one of the men reached out to grab Taylor's ass, he found himself staring down the barrel of her 9mm. She resisted the urge to shoot him, but Mike wasn't so nice about it, and shot the man in the back of his leg, being careful to miss the bone.

“There's six of you left. That's five bullets for each of you that we have left before we reload. Anyone else want to be stupid?” Mike challenged them in a deep and pissed off voice.

“Holy shit, man. I know you. Dude, that's Thomas Paine!” one man said as he put his hands in the air and backed away.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Taylor asked the men who had all gathered into a group. The two they'd taken down were trying to make their way off to the side.

“We're the resistance. Except, we can't resist them. They took out our friend the other day from all the way over there. None of us can shoot half that far.”

“Then what are you doing here?” She repeated.

“We're keeping our word. We promised Phillip we'd be here. We're following your orders. But we can't actually do anything. We can't even sit out and point our guns at them without getting shot.”

“So you're going to sit around and drink? Useless bastards,” Taylor said as she started walking towards the truck.

“So far this morning we've destroyed the Guard Stations in Mesquite and Saint George. We came here to defeat this one too, but we can't do it without the local help that we had in both the other cities,” Mike said to the men. “Where is Phillip?”

“He's supposed to come with the next shift. We swap out at dinner time.”

“How many are there of you on rotation?”

“There's about forty total, but only twenty-three of us are regular.”

“How many Guard are up there?

“Last we were able to find out there were ten. That was with the arrival of those snipers they brought in.”

“Snipers?” Mike asked, emphasizing the “s” at the end.

“We're pretty sure there's two. Might be three.”

Mike sat and thought for a few minutes.

“Taylor, can you range it?” he asked.

“Sir, it's 1,189 yards from the front porch of the building.” a different man spoke up. “It's also 515 yards from the middle of Walmart's roof, 1,007 yards from the tank on the hill, and 934 from the roof of Home Depot.”

Mike and Taylor were both impressed. “Damn man, good job. Can we get to them from the north at all?”

“Not since they went and leveled everything. Tons of people's homes; they just bulldozed or burned everything down and piled the debris in the roads. It's about a mile and a half walk from Highway 56, and you're completely exposed the whole time.”

“Dammit! Son-of-a-bitch!” Mike was starting to get really angry. He wanted this station to fall more than all the others combined. “We're just going to have to wait until we can get a whole lot more people together who are willing to storm the place, knowing there's a good chance they'll get shot.”

“Ma'am,” the man who'd grabbed Taylor called out. “I'm sorry for what I did. But I have an idea.”

Mike spun around to the man holding the bullet wound in the back of his left thigh. “Your voice. You're that little bastard who tried to claim I was your friend. You're the one who got the whole thing started calling me 'General,' aren't you?”

“Yes sir, and sir, I broadcast from my truck. Usually from right here,” he said, pointing to a thirty-foot tall antenna tower attached to the building.

“Sir, I believe that if people know you're here right now, and you're ready to fight with them, people all across the area will come out shooting.”

Taylor rushed up against Mike. “Do it. We've got to give it a try.”

Mike nodded, and one of the man's friends pulled his truck over close to the antenna and helped him into the passenger seat while they set everything up. Within a few minutes, the wounded man was signaling for Mike to sit in the drivers seat, holding out a microphone to him. “We're only three minutes from the top of the hour sir. If you get started now, some others may loop you on to their stations.”

Mike grabbed the microphone and began his first live broadcast.

“This is Thomas Paine. Early this morning, I teamed up with locals in Mesquite who were willing to give their lives for freedom to defeat the Guard station there. We were able to kill the guardsmen, and confiscate their supplies. I then moved on to Saint George, where I organized with the local resistance to do the same thing there. Two local Guard stations fell by lunch time.

“I now am coming to you from Cedar City, where we had hoped to do the same thing here. And with your help, we still can. We cannot engage the Guard here as easily. They're in a brick building with snipers positioned on the roof. Only an overwhelming arrival of men and women ready to fight, and possibly to die, can help us successfully take this station.

“Here is what we need to defeat the oppression and give you your freedom. Gather as many people together as possible along Highway 56, between I-15 and Cross Hollow Rd. Gather together in groups of twenty to fifty if you can, and begin walking towards the station through the rubble at exactly 3 pm. That's in one hour.

“We also need support from the south. Gather behind Home Depot so the buildings provide you with cover. We need people with good quality hunting rifles on the roof there, and at the tank on the hill behind Walmart.

“All of this information is assuming you have a fairly standard hunting rifle zeroed at one-hundred yards. From Home Depot, you will be 934 yards away. Their snipers can shoot you from there. To effectively return fire you'll have to aim roughly fifteen to twenty feet high. From the tank, you'll be a 1,000 yards away and need to aim between twenty to twenty-five feet high.

“Anyone coming from the north, you'll have to determine your distance as you move. If you're about a thousand yards away, you'll have to attempt aiming between twenty to twenty-five feet high. Eight-hundred yards, ten to fifteen feet high. Five-hundred yards, three to six feet high. Make adjustments for how your firearm is zeroed.

“These numbers can't make you into good shooters. You're probably not going to hit the men, but you will hit close enough to get their attention. Do not stop firing. The goal here is not accuracy. Quantity, not quality. We need as many bullets flying at that building as possible.

I will begin shooting in one hour, and I hope you will join me.”

They were all quiet for a minute before the man who knew the ranges spoke up. “Sir, I'm ready to fight with you.”

Another man spoke up “General Paine, I think two of us can make it over to the motel right down there to draw fire away from you. Just tell us how high to aim.”

“Have you ranged -” Mike started to ask the man.

“1,233 yards, sir,” he quickly answered.

“Aim about forty feet high then.”

The two men grabbed their rifles, and the one who spoke up about the motel said, “Sir, I don't expect to see the sunset tonight. And it's worth it if I can give you even half a minute to get that sniper that's keeping watch on us. It's an honor to have met you.”

The other man nodded in agreement. “Yes sir. Thank you.”

Mike was starting to feel pretty humbled. “Men, I pray you see the sunset tonight. I pray you watch it from the top of that old school.”

“Taylor, let's get those magazines we emptied earlier today reloaded,” Mike said, turning to her.

“You,” Mike called out the man Taylor had kicked.” You think you can climb yet?”

“Yes sir.”

“Get on this roof with those binoculars. Try to keep your head down. We need you to help watch what's happening over there.”

Mike looked through the windows that gave a vague view directly through the building. “I know they heard us. I just hope everyone else did too, and that they show up.”

Taylor got Mike's Barrett set up and had ten magazines set beside it. His shoulder was already hurting from all the rounds he'd fired that morning. He kept reminding himself of Stacy. They had taken her from him and his family, and he wanted revenge.

It was quiet as Taylor, Mike, and the other men did little more than watch the clock slowly count down the minutes. About 2:50 pm, their anxiety was getting high as they started hearing what sounded like shots being fired in the distance. They couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, so Mike called up to the man on the roof. He said he couldn't see anyone shooting, but the direction sounded like over near Home Depot.

The shooting stopped, only to start back after about two minutes. “It is coming from Home Depot!” the man on the roof shouted. “And I think there's some coming from north of the station too. I see two men on the roof kneeling down and returning fire. We've still got the one holding his aim at us.”

“Sir,” another man spoke up. “As soon as Sam and Carl start firing from the motel, I'm going to run north about a hundred yards and start firing at the one facing us. He's got to take his sights off you once he's taking fire from three rifles this direction.”

Mike nodded rapidly. His heart was racing. The first two stations went down easily. He didn't have to worry about someone capable of shooting back with any accuracy. That changed the situation mentally. Earlier was like target practice. But this time, the target was at least as good of a shot, and would be shooting back.

At 2:58 pm. Shots started to ring out from the motel. The other man took off on his dash with his rifle. Mike waited, concerned the sniper would stay focused on him, not worrying about the incoming fire from the sides.

“Return fire!” The man on the roof yelled. “He's shooting back at Sam and Carl.”

“Go, go, go!” Taylor shouted at Mike as he slid over into position and tried to hurry to find the sniper in his sights.

“There you are. Taylor, spot,” Mike said, giving her only a second to move over and eye the sniper in the spotting scope.

A loud booming crack came from the Barrett M107A1.

“Low about a foot, left about six inches. You got his attention.”

Boom, came the next loud crack.

“Woo Hoo!” they heard from the roof. “Holy shit, that's one hell of a gun!”

“You hit the brick straight under him,” Taylor shouted as her and Mike both heard the ping of a bullet landing just inches beside him, to his right.

A third cracking boom rang out from the Barrett.

“You got him!” Taylor shouted. She reached down to pat Mike on the back and noticed him holding his head down. “Mike. MIKE!” she yelled, squatting down to check on him.

“I'm alive,” he said, reaching to his right shoulder with his left hand.

“I don't know what hurts worse, the recoil, or that bastard's bullet!” Mike added as he rolled out from behind his rifle.

Taylor glanced at the wound he was holding, then dropped to the ground, assuming his position at the Barrett. She squeezed the trigger. “Dammit!” she yelled.

“Just take your time. I know you can do this,” he assured her.

“No, I saw him drop right as I squeezed the trigger. Someone else beat me to it.”

“They're all three down!” The man on the roof shouted.

“Keep watching in case they're not dead,” Mike yelled back.

Taylor stayed behind the rifle scouting for guardsmen through the scope.

The crackling of gunfire around the south end of Cedar City continued for almost fifteen minutes nonstop. Then it almost immediately stopped. Only a few occasional shots could still be heard.

“What's going on?” Mike yelled out.

“There's people moving closer. Only a hundred or two yards out from the north, and people are starting to climb the hill from Cross Hollow Road,” yelled the man on the roof.

“Shit! No you don't you -”

Taylor squeezed the trigger again, dropping one of five men who had climbed through an access point on the roof carrying smaller rifles.

“Four more,” she said before continuing to fire the remaining five rounds. “Dammi-” she began to say, realizing she was out, but being cut off by Mike reaching over with his left hand to hand her the next magazine.

Taylor wasted no time continuing her fire. She went through all ten rounds rather quickly and was starting to load up another magazine.

“I think they're all down now,” the rooftop lookout shouted. “I think people are making their way inside now.”

“We're done, Taylor,” Mike said calmly. “Whatever is left, everyone else will handle.

Taylor rolled out from behind the gun and laid against Mike's left side. “Damn that thing's kick really starts to hurt after a while,” she said as she started to laugh.

Mike and Taylor just laid there together for a while. Carl had returned from the motel reporting that Sam was dead. Taylor sent him to check on the guy who had run to the north. He, too, was dead. The man with the radio station stayed in his truck the entire time, and didn't try to hobble his way over to the others until he saw Phillip Brown coming over.

“Well Mr. Paine in the ass,” Phillip started. “Hell of a thing to pull off today without planning any of it with the rest of us.”

Mike could only smile, glad to see his old friend. Phillip turned to the hobbling man as he claimed, “We did it.”

“What in the hell happened to you boy?” Phillip asked him, looking down at his bloodied leg.

“I shot him,” Mike said plainly.

“What in the hell did you -” Phillip asked the man, figuring Mike had a good reason, and knowing the young man tended to be obnoxious.

“It's all good Mr. Brown. No worries.”

“I'm sure you deserved it,” Phillip replied. Then he turned to Mike “Next time, make sure he won't be able to annoy me again afterwards, will ya?”

“Hey, guys,” the radio man cut in. “The station in Beaver got attacked at the same time. The folks up there took it down after hearing your call, General.”

Mike just shook his head as Phillip ran the man off.

Phillip had a nurse come bandage Mike's shoulder. He made sure all Mike's stuff was loaded up and brought some gas to top off the S-10. The two men and Taylor talked for a short while, steadily receiving updates from the fallen Guard station. Fifty-eight people died taking the station. Roughly a hundred were injured. And fourteen guardsmen were killed, plus another seven in Beaver.

A significant cache of weapons were recovered, and though some were offered to Mike, he insisted they keep them. “You guys still have the hill to take, and probably Cove Fort. You need them.”

“Hey, Phillip,” Mike called out as he walked back to the old rancher. “I almost forgot. We need some help with something.”

“Oh, there it is. Just has to be something in all this for you!” Phillip replied jokingly.

“Did you hear about Newcastle the other day?”

Phillip realized this wasn't something to joke around about. “Yeah I did. Someone told me Dale and Trisha Westen were killed by the Guard pretty brutally. From what I heard, all the locals finally stood up and decided they'd had enough and hung those guardsmen.”

“There's more to it than that. They killed Stacy too.”

“Oh, shit! Oh, Mike,” Phillip slipped using his real name, “Dammit. So that's why you two came down today. What the hell was she doing in Newcastle?”

“Never mind that. I've got one adult and three children at the house recovering from gunshot wounds. You know a -”

“I know a good doctor I can bring up. I trust him, so I'll blindfold him anyways just for fun.”

Mike nodded and walked off to this truck.

When Mike and Taylor got home that night, the others were all waiting outside to greet them. Brad had been watching the road through the scope on his .223 and was proud to report that he had kept everyone safe. They had heard Mike's call for help over the radio, and were all eager to hear what had happened.

Chapter 15

Reorganizing

The sound of a car horn could be heard in the wee hours of the morning at the ranch. Taylor, Jason and Mike were all three bolting out the door with guns ready when they heard a familiar voice. “Don't shoot us! It's me, don't shoot.” It was Phillip. “I figured if I brought this pencil-neck kid up here in the dark it'd kinda help him feel even more lost.”

“Get in here, you old bastard!” Mike hollered back.

Phillip had brought a surgeon he knew up to check on everyone who was injured. “This here is Doctor Junior,” he introduced the man.

The doctor glared at Phillip and introduced himself as Dr. Torgerson.

“The boy here ain't as good as his old man used to be, but he'll take good care of you all.”

“I'm not used to working like this, but I'll do my best,” he said. “I grabbed everything portable I could. There's some boxes in the truck, if someone can help bring them in.”

Taylor grabbed a lantern and Jason's arm, and hurried out to the truck.

“I think Anna should be first,” Jessica suggested, as she was clearing off the table in a hurry and covering it with some thick blankets. Anthony was crying and she wanted to get him fed so he'd go back to sleep.

Dr. Torgerson went to checking on little Anna's abdomen first. He said she'd obviously not had any vital organs hit or she'd have already been dead. He then moved on to her legs. He repeated several times how he wished he had an anesthesiologist, some nurses, and an X-ray machine to do things like he was used to. Both of Anna's femurs were broken badly. He gave her some anesthetic that knocked her out and did the best he could to piece the bones back together and hold them in place. He warned them that she would almost certainly struggle with walking for the rest of her life.

He moved on to Stephanie next, and complimented the rudimentary stitching job Jessica had done. “The only thing I could have done better would have been cleaner work to minimize scarring,” he said as he gave the girl a shot of antibiotics as a precaution.

Brad's arm turned out to have two breaks in it. One wasn't too bad and should heal up fine. The other he had to go in and repair similarly to Anna's legs. He was amazed at the nature of the wound, asking if the boy was laying down when he got shot. “I killed two guardsmen,” Brad said proudly before passing out under the anesthesia.

Amy's wound to her thigh had only done soft tissue damage, but was starting go get infected. He reopened the wound to scrub it, then stitched it up cleanly.

Dr. Torgerson left a box of syringes and several small bottles of antibiotics, giving Taylor and Jessica instructions they needed to tend to Amy and the kids. He gave Jessica and Anthony a checkup while he was there, and Mike cautiously hovered over him the entire time.

“Okay, well, I guess it's your turn,” the doctor said to Mike. Phillip had warned him that Mike would probably not be willing to let him check the hole in his shoulder, and had been right.

Mike responded, “I'll see you out,” sternly as he turned towards the door. Taylor was standing right behind him, and had her arms crossed with a look that told him he wasn't going anywhere.

“Get your ass over there,” she demanded of Mike. Phillip was chuckling at seeing Taylor try to tell Mike what to do. He had watched her try to be the woman of the house since she was a young teen, wondering just how long Mike would put up with it.

“Taylor, they need to leave, now,” he said trying to side-step her as Jessica walked over to back Taylor up.

“I'm not sure what makes you think I'm asking,” Taylor said, trying not to laugh at herself for talking to Mike like that. Jessica just glared at him, letting him know he would regret resisting any more. Phillip erupted in laughter.

“Shut up, old man,” Mike said loudly without turning away from the ladies. He didn't move other than to pull his sleeve up and let Dr. Torgerson check the wound.

Later that evening, Mike was finally holding his new baby boy. He was still too scared to pick him up, but would let one of the ladies lay him in his arms. Brad was a proud big brother. He volunteered to not hold the baby until his arm was better, which the adults had all already decided anyways. But he enjoyed spending time telling little Anthony all the things he was going to teach him as he grew up.

Against Mike's wishes, Taylor kept the radio on. He was worn out and wanted nothing to do with the chaos of the outside world, but her curiosity about how their actions were making an impact won out. And with the earliest reports of the morning, Taylor was pleased. Her mood perked up a lot, as the revenge of the previous day brought her an odd satisfaction.

Every new report brought more and more good news. Not only had Beaver heard and followed Mike's call for help yesterday afternoon, but so had Richfield and Salina up north, and Kanab down south as well. And like his first recording, several people had recorded Mike's live broadcast and it was getting played around the nation. By that evening, as she was serving dinner, Taylor was ecstatic, and for Mike, annoying, as she rambled on and on about all the small towns who had taken up the fight and overthrown their local Guard stations.

Mike tried not to show her, but he was beaming inside as well at hearing the news. He made a brief recording complimenting the efforts of all those who were willing to fight, paying tribute to those who died in their pursuit of freedom, and encouraging everyone to continue the fight. He also took time to raise awareness towards trying to prevent such oppression from ever occurring again on American soil. He reminded them all of the NSA data centers, and Homeland Security fusion centers, and charged them to use the weapons they were seizing to destroy the facilities that helped make the Guard possible.

The next day, Mike didn't push back when Taylor was insisting on listening to more news. He was as curious as she was. NANN was the first station they picked up, and they were stunned by the news being reported on the state-run media. Late last night, the president had given orders to the U.S. Military to launch attacks on American soil against the people fighting the Guard. He also named “Thomas Pain” as a terrorist, and the most wanted man in America.

The president had made his speech without consulting, and before giving formal orders to his Secretary of Defense. The Joint Chiefs of Staff had already decided amongst themselves that if such orders to use military force against Americans was given, they were going to depose the president and assume full control of the federal government. And that's exactly what they did. The now North American Union had officially become a Military Junta overnight.

From what they could gather throughout the day, most of the continuing fighting was in the major cities, where large, militaristic police forces had been absorbed into the Guard. Resistance fighters now had weapon capabilities comparable to the Guard, thanks to the seized caches in small towns across the nation. What NANN was calling rioting, every single other report was calling a civil war.

“Wow,” said Jessica, as she giggled. “I must say, I never thought I would share a bed with the most wanted man in America.”

Amy was sitting on the couch with Anna and Brad. “You know, I think since the Military deposed the president and refused to use force on American soil, maybe the 'most wanted man in America' should step up his messages some,” she said.

“Yeah Mi- I mean Thomas - General Paine!” Taylor said as she laughed. “You need to try to get more of the fighters from small towns to go help the people in the cities.”

“Exactly,” added Amy.

He just stood there, not really know what to think. His emotions were still in a whirlwind from Stacy's death, Anthony's birth, and the full day of fighting. Jessica came up and put her arms around him. “You always do the right thing.”

“It helps to feel like I know what the right thing is,” he replied.

She kissed him on the cheek. “You'll figure it out,” she said as she went to lay Anthony down for a nap.

They were right, and he knew it. The best way to end the bloodshed was to speed it up, and try to get more of those who had already defeated their local Guard stations to go help do the same thing in the cities. He recorded another short message of congratulations for all the success. He praised the overthrow of the president and the Joint Chief's refusal to allow an attack on American soil, partly in hopes of lowering himself on any priority lists. He then went on to ask for help for all those fighting for their freedom in the cities across the county. He made public that he had been shot in Cedar City, but would recover quickly. And he said he wished he could be out taking shots with them at guardsmen again.

As the next week went by, Jessica regained much of her strength that she had lost during the labor, and had started handling most of the chores around the ranch for exercise. It was very helpful for Mike, since he was right handed. And she didn't want Brad doing anything for quite a while. Plus, for her, she was eager to lose the weight she had put on, and had set a personal goal of Mike's birthday to have her weight down to where she wanted it.

Mike spent much of his time listening to the news and what he could find of military broadcasts. He wasn't hearing any Guard transmissions anymore. It was all about readiness for possible war with The People's Republic of Pacific States and the Soviet Union. There seemed to be a great deal of activity going on. The European Union was fighting to hold off the Soviets from expanding further west. The P.R.P.S had managed to fully expel all American troops from foreign bases in their newly acquired territory. They ultimately resorted to bombing USAG Yongsan in Seoul, South Korea, which really escalated the tensions between the two nations. But with America weakened so much on the home front by the crash and fighting, there was little choice but a full withdrawal.

Mike was sitting by the canyon reading, tired of hearing how the two other superpowers were growing, as his own country was forced by it's own economic recklessness to withdraw. He decided to head down to the reservoir to see if it was starting to get warm enough to swim in yet. He didn't even make it to his gun range when he heard Brad and Jason calling for him.

He headed back to the house, where everyone else was all huddled around the radio listening to NANN. Taylor screamed and lunged at Mike to hug him. “You're a hero! You started this off, and now it's finished! You did it Mike!”

“Um, well, okay. Mind telling me what I did?”

“The Joint Chief's has ordered the Guard be fully disbanded. They're asking for leaders from each region to start rebuilding local governments. And they said they will have a new currency within the next month!” she said excitedly. “This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for you!” she continued.

Mike didn't know what to think. And coming from NANN, he didn't know what to believe. He showed no emotion. “Alright, I'm going to head down to the reservoir and see how well it's warming up.”

“That's it? The Guard is done, and all you have to say is you're going for a walk?” Taylor said in dismay.

Amy and Jessica shared his pessimism. Jessica jumped up and asked Taylor to keep an eye on Anthony. She wanted to join him on his walk.

“So, what's your thoughts on this Guard stuff?” she asked, once they were out of sight and sound range from the house.

“It might be bullshit, it might be true. Either way I can't believe it's done. It's been almost a year since this crap all started. Some days, it feels like it's always been this way. And other days, it's like it just started.” He put his arm around her as they kept on walking silently.

“So, do you think the Guard will disband, if that order is true?” she asked, as they were returning home.

“It probably is true. NANN has to at least try to appear trustworthy, and that's too big of a story to falsely report. I think some of what's left of it will disband. But I've got a bad feeling there's going to be a few groups who don't take their removal from authority well. If that's the case, they'll probably do some damage before fleeing and hiding like cowards.”

“Why do you say that?”

“History. Things like that just tend to happen when a militaristic type group finds itself without power anymore.”

That evening, while Jessica and Taylor worked on dinner, Mike was trying to think of something, anything, to occupy their minds from all the outside world nonsense for a good while. By the time Taylor was putting his plate down in front of him, he had thought of something. “Hey, you know what we all seemed to have completely forgotten about?”

“No. What?” Jessica responded.

“We still need to build a new house or something. Did y'all ever come up with a plan?”

It was a bit emotional, as that had been a project they had worked on with Stacy. “We never really came up with anything we really liked,” replied Jessica.

“Why do you want another house? What's wrong with this one?” Amy wondered out loud.

“Well, when I first asked them to move in with me, I said it would just be for the winter. I knew that wouldn't be the case though. Brad had his loft, and I had my room. But they all kind of rotated around. Two would sleep on the couch, and one in there with me,” he told her.

“So do you have like a schedule of who to sleep with each night?”

“No, not really,” Taylor answered.

“It still kind of baffles me how you two seem so comfortable sharing him like that?” Amy said

“Oh, no. It's not like that,” Taylor said, as she blushed. “I was the first one to sleep with him, but when I'm in there, we just sleep. Nothing else. He's just my big cuddle bear.”

“Okay, anyways,” Mike was determined to change the subject back to the house. “Even before we found y'all in the snow, we had agreed we wanted to stay under one roof together. So I told them to come up with a plan to either expand this house or build a new one.”

“Mike, can we talk about this later? I just.. I don't...” Jessica asked, fighting back her emotions.

“Sure, Jess,” he answered. “I understand.”

They did discuss it later that night. Taylor suggested moving Mike's book collection to the barn loft with the radio station, and enclosing the other loft to be her bedroom. She wanted Jessica to have Mike's bedroom for herself and Anthony, and he could be the one not sleeping in the same bed every night. So that was it. They would stick with the same house until Anthony was older and needed his own room.

“Hey, you there? It's urgent! Are you there?” came the voice of Bishop Christensen over the radio. Mike wondered what could be so damn important for him to climb that hill in the middle of the night.

Beep, Mike returned.

“We need to talk. Can you come down?”

Beep. Beep. Mike had no desire to get dressed and drive down the hill in the dark.

“You really need to come down. I think the whole region is about to have a disaster on our hands.”

Mike was annoyed, and exhausted, but relented.

Beep.

As Mike pulled up to their meeting spot, he saw the Bishop standing there, and two other people in the truck.

“Thomas, I'm so sorry -”

“What the hell is such a big damn deal you had to wake me up in the middle -”

“Vegas!” the Bishop yelled over Mike's voice. “Vegas is the big damn deal. And it's gotten worse since I first called you.”

“Why the hell should I care about Vegas?” Mike retorted.

“We think it was a group of remaining Guard who did it after they were ordered by the Joint Chief's to disband,” he went on in a somewhat panicked voice. “Some are saying it was Chinese or Soviet spies. But someone went around and blew up the Vegas water pumping stations. And then while we were waiting on you we heard that Hoover Dam has been seized and the generators blown up.”

“Oh, shit,” Mike replied softly. “This is going to be ugly,” he continued with a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“There's some rumors that they're planning to blow the dam, but that's not happened yet.”

Mike calmly tried to assure the Bishop that blowing up Hoover Damn was all but impossible. “Unless whoever this is had found a way to sneak a really large nuclear bomb inside the dam, they're not going to blow it up. And even then it might stay up. So stop worrying about that.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, that ain't happenin'. Vegas not having water or power... that's something to seriously worry about. Be glad they've not really had any tourism this last year, because a large number of people from there are about to make their way over here.”

“That's why I woke you up. Amanda here -”

“Amanda Matheson? Mike inquired.”

“You know her?”

“Yep,” Mike said with an almost disappointed tone of voice. “I know her.”

“Well. She said the same thing about blowing the dam. You know, her father died the other day when you guys took down the Guard station,” Bishop Christensen informed him.

“Damn,” Mike replied. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Anyways, she said we could have upwards of a million people swarming us over the next several days.”

Mike walked over to the truck where Amanda was sitting with Susan. “Get out here young lady,” he said in a commanding voice. She was hoping to avoid talking with him, still feeling embarrassed about her proposition in the motel.

“Yes sir, Mr. Paine?” she said, showing her intimidation.

Mike gently put his arms around her. “Sorry to hear about your old man. He seemed like a good guy.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, seeming hesitant and tense.

“Relax, alright. So you told them Hoover damn can't be blown up?”

“Yes sir. I -”

“She's smarter than you Bishop. Shit, she's probably smarter than all of us. Next time, listen to her.”

Mike turned back to Amanda. “Starting half way between Vegas and Mesquite, how many bridges are there between the two cities?”

“About a dozen sir.”

“Stop this 'sir' shit. Call me Thomas.”

“Yes sir, Thomas,” she replied, getting a dirty look from Mike.

“How many of those bridges do you think you have the ability to destroy with explosives?”

She thought for a moment. “I'd guess three to five.”

“You want us to blow up bridges on I-15?” Bishop Christensen interjected.

“Do you have the ability to feed and house an additional million people?”

“Oh goodness no. The farmers around here are -”

“Do you have any better ideas for either diverting or stopping those million people from getting here?”

“No, Mr. Paine,” he replied.

They stood silent for a few minutes, all of them wishing they could come up with any other idea. “Well, with such short notice, I don't have any other ideas,” Mike said, breaking the tense silence.

“I can't believe we're going to do this,” the Bishop sighed.

“Well, Bishop, I guess you better get busy deciding which bridges are going to be the most effective to drop.”

“Sir.. I mean.. Thomas,” Amanda spoke up. “Glendale.”

“Glendale?” Mike questioned.

“Yes si..,” she stopped herself. “Yes, Glendale. That will be the most effective place to do this.”

“Well, then, get to it,” Mike stated.

The Bishop, still in shock, asked, “You're ordering us to blow up bridges in Nevada?”

Mike just gave the Bishop a disgruntled look and walked to his truck.

“Oh, Thomas,” The Bishop spoke up again as Mike was leaving. “I'm not a bishop anymore. So you can just call me James.”

“Why aren't you a bishop anymore?”

“I resigned to take on another job I was asked to do.”

“Oh? And that is?”

“I got asked to be the head of security and restructuring for Washington County and Saint George,” he said proudly.

“Well that's interesting,” Mike replied, trying not to be too obvious that he didn't care.

“It's a single position,” James continued. “Amanda here is my assistant.”

“I'm sure you'll do a damn good job at restructuring, Bishop. But let her make the security decisions.”

Amanda held her head up high and shoulders back. Him saying she should make security decisions swelled her ego quite a bit.

Mike added as he walked off, “Show her how to get a hold of me in case you can't. And you,” he continued, talking now to Amanda, “Don't bug me unless it's life or death.”

Mike got home and found Taylor, Jessica and Brad finishing their breakfast. He couldn't wait to tell them that 'James' was the head of security.

“Well,” he added “Part of his job is overseeing restructuring of the city and county government down there too. And Taylor, remember that girl Amanda, from the airport?” Taylor nodded that she did.

“Was she down there too?”

“Yep, she was there. So was Susan. They took her in. Apparently her dad died in the fighting the other day. And she's his assistant in his new job.”

“You better be careful mister,” Taylor warned. “I saw how that girl was looking at you.”

Jessica laughed, remembering what Mike had told her about Amanda's advance in the motel room. “Hey now,” she joked. “I didn't mind sharing you with Stacy, but I don't know about this other girl.”

“Shut up! Amanda's eyes are full of nothing but youthful ambition,” he brushed her off. “She wants to be important and powerful. And her brain will get her there. She just wants to use her body to speed up the process.”

“So you think she just wants you because you can help make her famous?” Taylor said doubtfully.

“I don't know. But she'll grow out of any infatuation with me long before she does her ambition,” Mike said as he walked out to go to the barn.

Chapter 16

Heavy Heart

Over the next several weeks a lot of rebuilding and repairing of infrastructure took place across the country. The Joint Chief's were pretty angry about the blowing up of the bridges. Amanda stepped up to take responsibility for it, saying the human toll would have been worse if she hadn't done it. Publicly, NANN had reported the destruction in Vegas, and similar attacks in Ohio and Tennessee, as being the work of Chinese spies.

The government kept a steady flow of trains and aircraft going in to and out of Glendale and Vegas, bringing supplies in and people out. The water pumping stations had been rebuilt, and generator replacement was underway at Hoover Dam. Only a few who found the right back roads, and had enough fuel, made it over to southern Utah. There was a lot of rioting initially, but the relief supplies managed to bring that under control quickly.

The Joint Chief's had asked 'Thomas' and sixteen other leaders from different regions across the country to form a temporary Congressional body to help with rebuilding a functioning government. Mike tried to decline, but arrangements were made for him to have Amanda serve as his liaison, and he kept in touch via a satellite messenger unit that also kept him fully informed of all intelligence in the escalating war-of-words with the two allied super powers that Russia and China had become.

Soviet troops were making occasional rogue flights over Alaska, and statements were coming from the Kremlin that they intended to reclaim the massive peninsula for it's natural resources. The P.R.P.S. had it's ships positioning for a possible attack and seizure of Hawaii to finalize it's consolidation of Pacific islands. The NAU had Carrier Strike Groups in place at both far western states, ready to defend them at any cost.

All seventeen members of the temporary congress had unanimously agreed to release Mexico, returning it to it's own sovereign nation and ally. Leaders from the northern regions of the former nation of Canada requested to remain part of the NAU, but again the vote came down to release it. That vote had been split, with Amanda casting the final vote how she assumed Mike wanted her to. He didn't care much what happened, and had purposely left his “satellite gizmo,” as he called it, at the house while they all went swimming.

A new currency had been in circulation since its launch May 1st. Mike, Jessica, and Taylor wanted nothing to do with it. Most people still referred to it as the “dollar,” but it was a fully digital currency, legally called the “Bit,” that functioned through accounts people could utilize with their smart phones, computers, or any other number of devices. They chose to continue trading with Phillip, and he used his Bits to buy them what it was they wanted. For the most part, Mike always asked for gold or silver, which were very cheap under the new currency. Mike had Amanda submit a proposal to reinstate gold and silver coins. It got one vote, besides her, from an older man out of New York who seemed to want a very young girlfriend.

Back at the ranch, Brad was grilling burgers while Taylor made baked potatoes. Today would have been Stacy's thirty-eighth birthday, and they wanted to celebrate her memory. Anna was now staying close by Brad's side to keep him company while he cooked. She was walking again, needing crutches for longer distances, and wasn't leaving the side of the boy who had stayed by her so much while she recovered.

Anthony was crawling all over the place, and Mike had finally gotten over his fears of hurting the active baby boy. They were on the porch, Mike talking funny and making silly faces, in a stark contrast with the man the ladies had first met seven years ago.

Jessica couldn't help but to sit and watch, laughing the whole time. “Just think, another six months or so from now, there will be another one screaming and crying while this one is learning to walk and get in to everything we don't want him to,” she joked.

“Yep,” Mike said with a smirk.

“So, any thoughts about making the house bigger this summer?”

“Nah, we'll make it work,” he replied. Mike actually had already started things in motion to expand the house quite significantly.

In three days, Mike was moving them all out into the barn. Jessica wasn't going to like it, but Phillip and James were bringing up two vans full of workers to expand his six-hundred square-foot little home to a thirty-six-hundred square-foot, two-story house. Phillip had the dimensions of the house and yard and took them to an architect who had worked with rammed earth construction down in Arizona.

The entire crew volunteered to work for only their daily food when they found out who they were building the house for. They even agreed to ride in vans with blacked out windows, understanding why secrecy of the location mattered so much to the man who led the start of overthrowing the Guard.

The morning of June 1st, Amy and Jason were waiting for Mike on the porch well before the sun came up. They were in on the surprise, and ready to help with packing things up. Jason had spent most of the night before cleaning up the barn and building partitions to help keep the goats and chickens secured out of the area the family was going to live in for the next few months.

The rest of the family woke up to the sounds of horns honking. Taylor and Brad ran outside, guns in hand, without so much as bothering to get dressed. Jessica was half awake at the time and knew Mike was outside, so she took her time joining the others.

Mike had been right that Jessica would be very unhappy about living in the barn. But her excitement watching the progress of the house each day quickly overcame her displeasure. The men worked day and night, with Phillip and James making daily trips to the city for supplies.

Much to Mike's surprise, the crew finished the house in just three weeks. Mike, Jessica, Taylor, and Brad absolutely loved it. As they walked through the finished house, Jason led the construction crew through moving all their stuff back into the new home from the barn.

They walked through their new home, checking out everything the builders had done for them. Jessica and Taylor loved their new bedrooms. Jessica's was in the same place as her old room, and still had the same south and east walls. But it was larger, and a large bathroom had been added, including an indoor shower, which Mike had never put in to the original house. Opposite that bathroom was Taylor's bedroom, set up as a mirror image of Jessica's. Both had new king sized beds and ample room for anything they could want. They also both had doors that opened out onto a porch with chairs, a table, a swing, and a shower that drained into a flower garden.

The middle of the house was a single large open room for the kitchen, dining, and living area. That had been the one feature all three women had agreed upon back in the winter. Opposite the main living area were two more rooms and a bathroom set up almost identical to the other bedrooms. One was wired up for Mike to use for his radio station, which had two new amplifiers, three computers, and a satellite internet connection courtesy of the Joint Chief's of Staff. The other room was set up as a library for their book collection, with a gun rack built into the closet space.

Upstairs, Brad had his pick of four more bedrooms. He chose the one above his mom's room that gave him the best view down the canyon. Jason handed Brad a small wooden plaque he had made with one of the worker's help that read “Thomas Paine, Jr.” Brad's smile couldn't have been any bigger. Sitting between the four upstairs bedrooms was a game room and bathroom.

What had originally been Mike's reclusive, tiny, hide-away in the mountains was now a large family home. A wrap around porch had been added, even though Jessica and Taylor didn't want one, because Mike remembered that being the one feature Stacy had wanted more than anything. And outside, the south side of both the porch and house roofs were completely covered in new solar panels, with a power shed built off the back of the house.

The men had tried to replace Mike's old hand pump on his water well with an electric pump, but he adamantly refused. Instead, the electrician figured out a way to rig an electric motor to run the pump's handle, finding a compromise he would accept.

Mike woke up the next morning to Jessica and Taylor happily using their remodeled outdoor kitchen. It had a larger sink, more counter space, a larger grill, and a nice large pavilion built over it. Both of them had gotten up early to do their hair and put on makeup. Mike just figured they were enjoying themselves for their first day in the new house.

“Go back to bed,” Jessica yelled to him as he started to walk outside.

Mike wondered to himself “What the hell do these two have up their sleeves this time?”

A little bit later they walked into the room to serve him breakfast in bed.

“Wow! I should have the house worked on more often,” he joked.

Brad walked in with Anthony trying to run along behind him.

“1... 2... 3..,” and they started singing to him “Happy Birthday to you....”

Mike had completely forgotten it was his birthday again. “Oh, damn, I'm thirty-four now I guess. I think I would have preferred to forget that, but I can't think of a better way to get reminded either!”

“Yep, and we're going to remind you all day long that it's your birthday. Anything you want to do today, we're doing it with you,” Taylor said, acting all giddy

Jessica's mood wasn't as chipper as Taylor's. She couldn't help but remembering Stacy, and the two of them deciding last year they wanted to make what they did for his birthday an annual tradition. But she managed to put that out of her mind and carry on with a smile, as she knew Stacy would want her to. “So, what are we doing today?” she asked.

Mike had Taylor bring Amy and the kids up to join them for the day. They all went swimming and shooting for most of the day. Then they sat on their new porch enjoying the canyon views while the kids played and Mike grilled out dinner.

That night after dinner, Brad and Anthony went home with Amy. Mike, Jessica and Taylor were drying off from a late nigh swim, sitting on a bench under their new pavilion, enjoying some wine Phillip had given them with the new house.

“What's that sound?” Taylor asked.

“Ah, dammit. Not today. I don't even have time to get inside and get dressed either,” Mike said, sounding disappointed.

Around the side of the house came a motorcycle. It's light shined on them, and it continued to pull up right to the pavilion.

“Why? Why today!?” Mike gasped just before the engine shut off.

“Man, you guys have it made up here. I can't sit outside my house like that,” said Amanda as she took off her helmet.

“Why are you here?” Mike asked, making no secret that he wished she was anywhere else.

“I'm here because you won't answer your messenger, and you haven't set up your new SatLinc yet.”

“No, I haven't set it up. Hell, I might not set the damn thing up. I didn't ask for this.”

“No, but you agreed to it. And you're going to set it up tonight.”

“I don't even know how to set the damn thing up. Last time I got online, AOL still had CD's sitting beside every cash register in America.”

“Wait, what?” she asked, not knowing what he was talking about, or why Jessica found it to be so funny.

“Well then get off your ass... off your bare ass, and go figure it out. It's not that hard,” Amanda snapped back with a bit of sass. “Yeah, and just why are you out here on your bare ass anyways. I've come up here before unannounced and never seen this.”

“Amanda, if I tell you will you go away?” Taylor said, showing her annoyance with Amanda's presence too.

“I'll go away when he's on SatLinc. But I won't help myself to sticking around if you tell me.”

Mike hung his head, and whispered to Jessica, “Can I shoot her? Please?”

“No,” Jessica giggled as she whispered back. “That's my job!”

“So, what's up with enjoying the cool breeze tonight?” Amanda said, pulling up a chair across from them.

“Nothing exciting, Amanda. We're just drying off from a late swim, and enjoying the peace and quiet,” Taylor paused. “Or at least we were enjoying the peace and quiet.”

Amanda folded her arms, glaring at Taylor. She looked over at Mike. “Thomas, we need to go get your SatLinc hooked up. You've got two votes that you have to cast, and one that I can't do for you.”

“They'll be fine without my vote,” he replied, hoping she would go away.

“Nope. You have to vote, and you're going to want to kick yourself right where I'm staring if you don't.”

Mike sighed and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. “What the hell is so damn important up for vote that my evening has to be ruined by your presence?”

“There's two votes actually. You're right, one of them doesn't matter. It's to vote for the use of force to try to stop the Pacific and Soviet invasion of South America. That's going to pass no matter what.”

“Yeah, okay, more war. No surprise there.” Mike was being facetious and his patience with Amanda was growing thinner by the second. “What's the other one?”

“They've moved up the date for a vote on the Sovereignty Act,” she said with a sense of urgency.

Mike sat up quickly.

“Right now it looks like a split, eight to eight, vote,” Amanda continued.

Mike stood up, groaned and sighed all at the same time.

“What's the Sovereignty Act?” Jessica asked.

“Okay, Amanda, I'm slightly glad you're here,” Mike rolled his eyes at her smiling, and turned to answer Jessica. “It's a bill Amanda and I wrote with a guy from Texas. If it fails, they're going to start working to arrange elections for a new congress and new president. If it passes, then the United States will officially be divided up into several smaller countries with a shared military only.”

It was really quiet for a moment as the reality of what might be about to happen sunk in.

“Um, hang on. So you two wrote a bill to literally end the United States?” Taylor asked.

“Yep!” Amanda answered excitedly, attempting to put her arm around Mike before he blocked her.

“Come on, Amanda. Come set this thing up and make sure I'm able to cast my vote.”

They went inside the house and Mike showed Amanda where all the boxes were. She had already set up the same system at her own house, and went right to work. Mike walked off into Jessica's room and shut the door.

The next morning Mike was still laying at the foot of the bed, with his legs down and feet on the floor. Jessica and Taylor had fallen asleep in the living room playing cards. Amanda stayed up all night, and went to wake Mike up to let him know it was working and he needed to come see how to use it.

Mike had once been pretty technically savvy, but other than what he used to record his messages, he hadn't done much with a computer since Windows '98.

“Okay, Amanda. When is the vote?”

“In about two hours.”

Mike sighed again, wondering if he would regret what he was about to say. “Amanda, will you stay and help me not screw this up?”

“Yes!” She said, acting all giddy and plopping down in his lap to hug him.

Mike shoved her off and she jumped up and went outside, embarrassed over being rejected by him again.

Mike walked into the living room. “She's staying for a few more hours.”

Jessica just closed her eyes and dropped her head to the couch.

“I need her. As bad as I hate it, I need her to get this right,” he told them.

Two hours later, Amanda was seated at Mike's side, with Jessica and Taylor standing behind them. The roll call always had Thomas Paine last, and as Amanda predicted, it was a split vote. He was to cast the deciding vote.

It was now official. The United States was to be dissolved on November 1st. The military would continue to exist in it's current state, and a single Commander-in-Chief of the military would still run for election in all the soon to be new nations. As Amanda shut down the connection, they all had tears in their eyes.

“Why? Why, Mike?” Taylor said, forgetting that Amanda still didn't know his real name.

“So that we won't again face such a large and powerful central government that's so easily able to take away our liberty,” he answered as he got up and walked out. None of them followed him. Even Jessica knew he needed his space for longer than normal.

Mike walked down to the reservoir and cried for almost two hours. He had just taken on the burden of the decision to end the country who's flag he'd once worn on a uniform, and casting his vote as he did weighed heavily on his heart. Taylor came down to check on him and sat to cry with him. After a little while longer, they both started feeling like they had no tears left to shed and returned home.

The process to form new national boundaries started the next week. Mike told Amanda his suggestions, and let her work with a locally-elected council to try to reach agreements by October 31st. He wanted nothing more to do with any of it. The Joint Chiefs asked him to remain with four others as advisers who could vote to overrule their military decisions. It was a shallow attempt at a balance of power until elections were being held. He wanted to decline, but Jessica's voice was still there whispering “you always do the right thing.”

Chapter 17

Escalation

Ten months had passed since Mike cast his fateful vote. It still weighed heavy on him almost every day, but he never doubted that it was the right thing to do. There were now eight nations where a single nation had once been.

Mike's ranch now sat in a nation named for a landmark that sat in the middle of it. Grand Canyon. He hated the name, but had no other ideas when he was asked. Southern Utah and Nevada, south of I-70, straight west to the border with California, and all of Arizona were it's territory.

California had remained mostly as it had been, except the northern part of the state joining with Oregon, Washington, Idaho, northern Utah and Nevada, Wyoming, and Montana. California retained its name. The new north western nation kept ongoing political fighting and still could not reach a decision between using Washington or Montana.

New Mexico and Oklahoma had joined the Republic of Texas. Colorado, east to Missouri and north through Minnesota, as well as Iowa, Nebraska, and the Dakotas became the Ogallala Nation.

Arkansas, Tennessee, North Carolina, and the states to their south again became the Confederate States of America, with their Constitution beginning with a noted ban on slavery. The northern states, from the Mississippi River east to the Appalachian Mountains chose to be the Lincoln Nation. The remaining north eastern states became Franklin.

Most nations kept many of the same laws that were in place when the crash first happened. Texas and Ogallala didn't impose many restrictions on firearms, but Mike was pleased that Grand Canyon chose wording in their Constitution that stated “all citizens may freely own and carry any such weapon as they see fit, without limitation from any agency of government.” And he was ecstatic when he was given, as a gift from the new government, one fully automatic M4 for each member of his family, along with a truck load of 5.56mm ammunition for them, as thanks for his participation in the resistance and activism for freedom.

The war with the Pacifics and Soviets had escalated into a full scale war, though most of the fighting was taking place on the South American and African continents. Each occasionally launched missiles into the rural areas of each others homelands. Alaska was successfully defended against the Soviets and was petitioning to become the ninth nation in the NAU Mutual Military Agreement. Hawaii had little left to it after exchanging hands between the NAU and Pacifics ten times in as many months.

Mike had become very involved with the war in a sense. The entire Rocky Mountain region was hammed all winter long with massive snow storms. Amy and her kids all spent the winter in the new house, at Taylor's insistence. The snow got so deep that the entire first floor of the new home was buried in what they guessed was nearly twelve feet of snow.

Shortly before Thanksgiving, Amanda had been up at the Ranch trying to convince Mike to put 'Thomas Paine' on the ballot to be Grand Canyon's first president, with her as his vice president. He refused to consider the idea and angrily ran her off, slipping on some ice and taking a hard fall, once again injuring his left hip.

About thirty minutes after Amanda left, she was sending Mike satellite messages and radio calls begging for help. She had become stuck in a snow storm and couldn't get her truck out of a ditch the road crossed. Jason, who had become quite infatuated with her, didn't hesitate to take the snowmobile out to rescue her.

Amanda came down with a mild cold from the ordeal, but Jason found himself battling pneumonia soon after. Amy spent two weeks doing all she could to nurse her first born back to health. Amanda tried daily to offer to help in any way she could, but Amy blamed her for his condition and refused to even feed him soup when she cooked it.

Jason fought hard, but in spite of everyone's best efforts, he died December 5th. By that time, the snow pack had risen to about six feet deep. Jessica and Taylor went as a team to try to find low spots they could shovel their way through to place his body until they could bury him, but were unable to even get off the porch. After a day, as the snow continued to fall, Mike insisted that they put Jason's body out the upstairs bedroom window of the room he had died in. All of them felt guilty. Like they were disrespecting the boy who had given his life to save someone else. The hard winter turned surprisingly long, making them wait until the first week of April before they could retrieve his body and give Jason a proper burial.

Mike felt particularly guilty. He had a great deal of respect for the young man, who stepped up to the task no matter what was ever asked of him. And in his mind, it was all his fault. He reasoned that Amanda wouldn't have been out there had he not run her off. And even if she had still left, had he not acted out so angrily and fallen, it would have been him who had gone to rescue her, not Jason.

Mike and Amanda both found immersing themselves in the politics of the war to be a distraction from the guilt and grief they both felt. Brazil had chosen to side with the Pacifics and Soviets, cutting all ties with the reorganized North American Union. This was a major turning point in the war, as the NAU's only remaining allies were the struggling nations of western Europe, Canada and Mexico.

Mike got the call one morning to join a conference call with the other advisers over SatLinc with the Joint Chiefs. Admiral Miller, as the acting chairman, led the call with a proposed plan of retaliation.

“I'm not going to beat around the bush here. I have a plan to take most of South America out of the war by levying an attack on Brazil,” the Admiral started.

While everyone remained silent waiting to hear the plan, Mike couldn't bite his tongue. “You're shittin' me!”

“Excuse me?!” the Admiral shot back, in disgust at the perceived disrespect.

“You want to attack Brazil? I understand the attacks on Pacific and Soviet bases being established around -”

“Mr. Paine, please hold your thoughts until I'm finished,” the Admiral demanded. “As I was saying, since Brazil has led the charge on the South American continent for uniting against us, I have a proposed plan of attack to show that we can't and won't tolerate such actions. If launched, Brazil would not be capable of continuing it's support of our enemies.”

“Okay, so what's this brilliant plan?” Mike asked. “Get to the details and save us the bullshit.”

Admiral Miller was clearly getting annoyed by the man he knew only as Mr. Thomas Paine. “Well, Mr. Paine, the plan is to launch a few dozen missiles into Brazil, targeting it's key infrastructure, without which, it will only barely be able to function. Half of these missiles would assure the complete demolition of the Itaipu Dam.”

Mike didn't know what that dam was, or it's significance, but the look on Amanda's face told him she knew exactly what he was talking about.

Chairman Miller continued, “The remaining missiles will be sent directly into Brazil's capital of Sao Paulo.”

“Oh my God!” Mike exclaimed before catching himself. “I'm sorry, Admiral, please continue telling us how many civilians you've got a hard-on to kill.”

“Mr. Paine, would you like to be disconnected from this conference, because I can have that done quite easily?”

“Please go on, Mr. Chairman,” Mike struggled to say respectfully.

“We would not be bombing civilian targets in Sao Paulo. Our object would be to destroy the hydroelectric dams at the Billings and Guarapiranga reservoirs.”

Amanda's mouth dropped as she hurriedly reached for the mute button on the microphone. “That's going to wipe out Sao Paulo worse than just bombing it! I'd bet at least two or three million people's homes and businesses lie in the lower regions of the city, and that's on the low end. Anyone who manages to survive the attack and flooding won't have any clean water!”

Mike unmuted his microphone as several of the others were talking about how it sounded to them like a good strategic attack with minimal civilian casualties. “So, Chairman Miller,” Mike spoke up over the others, “You want to eliminate the major power supplies for the country?”

“Precisely. It will be precision strike -”

“And what about the millions of people who live and work downstream of these reservoirs? What about the ten-plus million people who would have to figure out how to live without drinking water?”

“Mr. Paine, any attack will have a few casualties. But Brazilians are used to heavy rains, and will not have a problem finding reasonable drinking water supplies. Assuming the board doesn't override us by unanimous vote, the attack would commence a week from this coming Sunday, March 16th.”

“Excuse me,” General Laub, of the Air Force, interjected. “Since first reviewing this plan a few days ago, some of my intelligence officers presented me with an expanded version.”

“You'd like to hit other targets critical to Brazil's infrastructure?” Chairman Miller asked.

“No. I propose it's time we strike at mainland Russia and China. Let's level a comparable attack on their critical infrastructure as well. Concurrent attacks.”

Everyone was silent. Even Mike was too in shock to say anything.

After nearly two minutes of everyone pondering the thoughts of direct attacks, General Laub continued. “The attack on mainland China would hit at their pride and their power. Three Gorges Dam. This would be a critical blow to their electrical generation capabilities and agricultural irrigation. It would send a firm message that they need to end their hostile actions or risk further destruction.”

Mike was finally not alone is his reservations about these attacks ideas. Mr. Lee Ivey, a machinist who actively led fighting in several small west Texas towns before traveling to Austin, and who had worked with Mike and Amanda on the Sovereignty Act, questioned what sort of response the NAU could expect. “What if they decided to strike back by hitting Hoover Dam with a nuke?”

Mike answered him before the General or Admiral could. “Mr. Ivey, you already know where I stand on this shit-for-brains idea here, but Hoover Dam is something we investigated very thoroughly when the Guard bombed it's generators last year.”

Admiral Miller interrupted Mike to remind him it was Pacific spies who bombed Hoover Dam.

“Yeah, whatever. Hoover Dam isn't a major concern even to me,” Mike continued. “They can knock it off-line, but I don't think they can knock it down. I'd be more concerned about nukes falling on some of our major cities if we seriously struck them in their homeland. So far this has just been a proxy war. If we take it to their shores, you know damn good and well they're going to bring it to ours.”

“May I finish?” General Laub politely stated rhetorically. “The other strategic targets I propose we attack are in Russia. Ivankovo Dam and the Yamburg Gas Field on Gulf of Ob. Both are in remote areas, Mr. Paine, with a far less direct civilian impact than any of the other targets.”

“General,” Mr. Ivey again cut in. “How well will we be protected from retaliation strikes from them?”

“Our missile defense capabilities are our biggest strength against either of these two. They cannot stop our bombs from falling on them. We can and will intercept any missiles or aircraft they send our way. And in the impossible event they landed troops on our shores, especially after our recent brief civil war, the men and women of our eight nations are the best armed population ever, and will fight along side our troops to exterminate every foreign boot before they left the sands of our beaches.”

“Maybe so, General. I can't deny that might be possible, though I have real doubts,” Mr. Ivey said, being far more diplomatic than Mike, in hopes of winning over the rest of the board members. “But, gentlemen, can any of you say that you can stop a high-altitude nuclear strike?”

Mike could see the blank stares he and Mr. Ivey were receiving over the video conference.

“Excuse me,” Richard Foster, of New York City, broke the silence. “But could someone please tell the rest of us what that is?”

Mr. Ivey cut in. “It's called an EMP attack. Something I used to laugh at people suggesting was a realistic possibility. But times have changed. It's blowin' up a nuke way up in the sky, and instead of killin' us with the explosion and radiation, it kills almost everything electrical in the skies and on the earth below it.”

Mr. Foster was joining Mike and Mr. Ivey in their reservations now. “You mean like an actual nationwide blackout? So we'd be without power for a little while. How long are we talking? A few days? A few weeks?”

Mike had to bring attention to the Joint Chief's complete silence, “Well, Admiral, General, you two certainly got quiet. Would you care to answer Mr. Foster's question for him. Just how long would it take to get -”

“Years,” Admiral Miller said. “Maybe a decade. Maybe even more if our allies faced the same attack.”

“Oh... damn!” Mr. Foster said as the ramifications of years without electricity clicked in his head.

“Look, gentlemen of the Board,” Chairman Miller said confidently. “While Mr. Paine and Mr. Ivey here seem eager to scare you into voting against this attack, they know our enemies will not launch any nuclear strike against our nations, whether surface or high-altitude. And they know this because they know we would detect the launch of those weapons and respond with an immediate barrage of nuclear attacks our self. And our counterparts in the Pacific and Soviet governments know we would launch a thousand nukes at both surface and high-altitude targets, forever eliminating their ability to recover.”

He paused to take a deep breath. “I support General Laub's proposed expansion of the attack, and can see that the rest of us here do as well. I cannot promise our missile defense systems will stop every single bomb they send from hitting our soil. But we will stop a significant majority. And nothing they launch will be nuclear.”

“May we reconvene in a little while?” Mrs. Chapman, of Florida, requested. “I'd like a few hours to think about this, and I'm sure I'm not alone.”

Mike and Mr. Ivey were the only ones who's decisions were made and firm. They didn't need any time to think. They were going to vote against the attack proposals.

Taylor noticed that Mike's office had been silent for more than an hour and went in to see what was going on. She walked in and asked why they were so quiet. Mike just ignored the question, so Amanda filled her in on what the Joint Chiefs were proposing.

Taylor was as shocked at the idea as Amanda and Mike had been when they first heard it. But her first question wasn't about how they would respond, or how we could repel the return attacks. She only wanted to know if they should be safe up on the ranch.

“Maybe,” Mike answered her. “We'll be far safer than most of the rest of the population, just as we were during the Guard's oppression. As long as they don't respond by hitting our nuclear power plants or actually nuke us, and as long as we can finish replacing the livestock I know we've lost in this snow, then we should be safe here. But I'm not confident that we can repel their return fire. There are just too many targets here that are too soft. If we do this, we will regret it.”

As he logged back on to the conference, neither Mike or Amanda could take a guess as to how the board would vote. But they soon learned. Mr. Ivey was the only one who joined him in opposition. Mike just shut his system down. “Damn. I feel sick. In a week and a half, we're going to kill tens of millions of people.”

That Sunday morning, They all gathered in the office at 3 am, while the children all slept, to watch the live video feeds of the attacks. Amanda and Taylor both started tearing up before the first explosions took place. The screens lit up as the missiles found their targets, all the explosions happening almost simultaneously.

As the views of the damage cleared from the initial blasts, water could be seen rushing downhill into the central area of Sao Paulo, as well as out of the Ivankovo Reservoir in Russia. Brazil's capitol was darkened and flooding, and Moscow's primary source of water was draining rapidly.

There was a lot of fire seen at the Itaipu and Three Gorges dams, but they were still standing. Mike sat quiet and emotionless, watching the screens as millions were being killed. The ladies cried for a while and were starting to compose themselves when, about ten minutes after the initial attack, Three Gorges Dam started to crumble.

“Shanghai is about to get washed out to sea, and maybe a hundred of the fourteen million people living there know it's coming.” Amanda said softly as she started crying again.

The Itaipu Dam held out another thirty minutes before one section of it fell in. The rushing water slowly tore most of the rest of it down.

“These bastards think the Pacifics and Soviets aren't going to unleash hell on us for this. I just pray they don't nuke us,” Mike said as he got up and walked out in disgust.

Chapter 18

Crushed

The first week of April came, and still no reprisal attack had come yet. A sudden end to winter had though, with ten bright, sunny, warm days. The remaining seven feet of snow had melted away everywhere the sun was hitting, and had mostly melted down even in the shade of the wooded areas. They got Jason's body buried, and tried to recover Amanda's truck, but found it washed a hundred feet further down the ditch by the runoff from the snow melt. The canyon running along side of the mountain where the houses sat turned into a raging river.

The next week, still no attack. Spring rains came, and came in abundance, keeping Mike's canyon filled and flowing rapidly.

“Well, the good news is, winter is over and all the major lakes are finally getting replenished from the drought of the last decade. The bad news is, I'm sure our reservoir has been washed away, I can't find any of our cattle, and only found five sheep and four goats still alive. The chickens and milk goats somehow survived in the barn though,” he told everyone that was sitting in the main room of the house.

“So now what?” Amy asked

“Now we wait until it's safe to take the tractor out to start rebuilding the road and making repairs around the farm,” Mike answered.

The news was full of stories about flooding happening across the continent. Even little Saint George had become a major headline for it's flooding. But the news also reported that the bright side of things was that the damage from the drought in the west had in fact been mostly reversed, at least temporarily. Even Lake Mead was almost back up to capacity, and forecast to keep rising for at least another two weeks.

Stories about devastation were also being talked about a lot. There were no official numbers out of Brazil, Russia and China, but all estimates were that more than fifty million people had died as a result of the attacks.

The Ogallala Nation was being hit by severe flooding as the Missouri River was taking in all the snow melt and rains too. What was a blessing to Grand Canyon was a curse to those on the other side of the Rocky Mountains. The Lincoln Nation and Confederate States were bracing themselves for the floods that would hit them as the Missouri River's waters made their way from Montana, to the Gulf of Mexico. It was going to be ugly, but wasn't expected to be quite as bad as the floods of 2011 had been.

The kids were all upstairs playing happily while the adults were downstairs. Taylor was playing cards with Amanda, Amy and Mike.  Jessica was laying on the floor watching Anthony play with his little sister Keira. They were finally starting to relax again emotionally and mentally from the cabin fever of winter and all the events in the war.

“Rummy!” Mike called out, glad to finally win a hand, when his messenger began beeping. Then Amanda's started beeping as well.

“Oh shit! Oh, no. No, come on, we need to log on!” Amanda said, sounding panicked.

“What the hell is going on?” Mike asked.

“You said they were going to strike back. They are. The Soviets and Pacifics both have missiles in the air.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to scramble into the office. Amanda pounded her fists on the desk impatiently as they were logging on to SatLinc. She was able to find a tracker for the incoming missiles and see where the NAU's intercept missiles were being launched.

“Come on, what's going on. I can't tell what's what? Where are these things going to hit. How many are there?” Amy went on rambling with questions faster than anyone could try to answer.

Mike sat back in his chair, “I'm assuming all the little dots moving towards the North American continent aren't our intercept missiles. It looks like the blue dots are our missiles, and the red ones are theirs.”

They continued to watch as several blue dots vanished from the screen as they crossed paths with the red dots. Mike leaned in as more dots kept appearing and disappearing. His heart started to sink in his chest. “Is it just me, or does that suddenly look like there's way more reds than blues?”

Amanda sighed as she answered him, “I guess we just wait to see if they hit us or not.”

Jessica hollered for the kids upstairs to come down. She held on to Keira and let Anthony sit in Amanda's lap. Taylor was holding on tightly to Mike and Brad's shoulders, and Amy stood with her arms around Anna and Stephanie. They all huddled in close together as they watched red dots disappearing in various places around the NAU before there were finally no more dots.

Mike grabbed his messenger up and sent a short message to the entire Joint Chiefs panel and the advisory board.

“Please exercise restraint.”

He waited a few minutes, and got no reply. He sent another message.

“They're waiting to nuke us. Exercise restraint, please.”

Mike didn't know if those dots had been nukes. He didn't know if anyone he was sending messages to was alive. Amanda was trying to find information, and hopefully video, of what had been hit. As she was finally getting in information, a message came in from Admiral Miller.

“We will hold for forty-eight hours.”

The video feeds began to come in from all across the continent. New York City took four missiles. The New Jersey entrance to the Holland Tunnel, and the Manhattan, Brooklyn, and George Washington bridges were all hit. There were reports that several, and maybe all, of the bridges crossing the Mississippi River being hit. Then even Mike started to tear up as more reports of damage came in.

“They responded in kind,” he said. “with attacks on our infrastructure. They... We... I don't know how we'll ever recover if this is as bad as it looks.”

Amanda blew up a video of the mountains from Bakersfield, CA. At the bottom of the screen it said several missiles had caused a breech in the Isabella Dam. A ticker below that was scrolling more information.

“More than one-hundred and eighty million gallons expected to rush over Bakersfield, CA from Lake Isabella... Flaming Gorge Dam has collapsed from Missile strikes... St. Louis flood walls destroyed by missile attack...  Kentucky Dam attacked but still standing... Canyon Ferry Dam in Montana has collapsed... Garrison and Oahe Dams on the Missouri River both struck in missile attack... Wolf Creek Dam in Kentucky has collapsed...”

Amanda began to switch to other video feeds. The Missouri River flooding was expanding rapidly, and rather than stack more and more sandbags, emergency evacuation warnings were given for it's entire two-thousand, three-hundred mile length, and for the Mississippi River from St. Louis, south.

“Amanda, fire up that brain of yours. How many people are about to be killed or displaced?” Mike asked.

“I... I... um... I don't... I don't know how many millions,” she said. “Nashville will be gone, under twenty or thirty feet of water, before many people realize what's happening. Memphis, St Louis, New Orleans, Omaha, Kan-.”

Amanda stopped and yelled “Oh my God!” as she clicked on the mouse. A massive wall of water was starting to come out of the Sierra Nevada Mountains rushing towards Bakersfield, CA.

“What's this?” Amy asked, pointing to a small window on the screen.

Amanda clicked to blow it up. “It's Green River, Utah. Oh my God these people are pointing their damn cell phone cameras up the canyon. What the hell is -”

“They have no where to go, Amanda,” Mike almost whispered. “Damn, this means Glen Canyon Dam is going to be over topped easily. No way it's going to survive that,” Amanda said.

“There's a whole lot of dams everywhere that won't survive the water coming from the collapsed reservoirs upstream. Billions, if not trillions, of gallons are about to flood out of already overfull rivers.”

“Are you saying that Lake Powell is about to be gone?” Amy asked, fighting back the tears as she remembered frequent trips to there with her family before they were attacked by the Guard.

“Yes, Amy. I'm sorry. Lake Powell is about to be gone,” Mike answered softly.

Amanda voice became more tense as she went on, “When we checked in to all this, we never figured out if Hoover Dam would survive over topping. We just didn't think about it. Lake Mead was so low.” She was clearly angry at herself for not investigating every possibility.

Mike put his hands on her shoulders to try and comfort her. “You could have never anticipated the lake filling back up,” he said. “And then getting rushed with several million more gallons.”

“Several million?” She said inquisitively with a look of concentration on her face. “No, try more like around ninety-five to a hundred billion extra gallons. This is going to raise the water level in the Grand Canyon to around five-hundred feet deep, all rushing to Hoover Dam. I don't... I don't know if Hoover can survive that.”

Other than crying, everyone sat quietly watching the devastation unfold on the screens of the SatLinc. Jessica eventually took the kids to try to play, hoping to get her mind, and theirs, off of what was going on. Mike and the other three just couldn't pull themselves away until they couldn't see anything else from the darkness of nightfall. Amy hugged them all, and hugged Amanda the tightest to show her she was no longer holding a grudge over the death of Jason.

The next morning, April 15th, there was a conference call with the Joint Chiefs. Mr. Ivey and Mrs. Chapman were the only other advisers who logged in. The others either had no power, no home, or were no longer alive. General Laub was the first to speak up.

“I know I speak for us all when I say I am absolutely devastated. I overestimated our missile defense system, and underestimated our enemies. For that I am -”

Admiral Miller cut the General off. “We have to act, and we must act swiftly and sternly. The people all across our great union are working together as if we were still one nation. We must find justice for them!”

Mr. Ivey put his head in his hands. “Please don-”

“We made a commitment to a balance of powers, and as tempted as I am to just take action -”

“Nuke those bastards!” Mrs. Chapman cried out.

Mr. Ivey shook his head. “We're going to regret this,” were his final words as he logged off.

“May I speak please?” Mike asked more nicely than anyone had ever heard out of him.

Admiral Miller and General Laub both nodded.

“Please reconsider this. We all know that right now, they have everything in their arsenals aimed at us and our ships out at sea. Anywhere and everywhere we have any form of assets, there are nuclear warheads aimed. They're just waiting to see the first nuke leave our land, or one of our ships or subs, and just like you would do if you saw that coming from them, they're going to push that button. Please don't do this. It was called 'Mutually Assured Destruction' in the Cold War for a reason. Please, please let this end.” Mike finished and logged off without waiting for a response. His messenger beeped about ten minutes later, just reading the word “Justice.”

Mike scrambled everyone together. “We've got to get the radio equipment, solar panels, and anything else electrical up to the cave now!”

“What's going on Mike?” Amy asked. She and Amanda knew nothing about the cave.

Amy stayed with the younger kids while the rest all worked feverishly to pack up everything they could into the trucks, trying not to break anything in their rush. They tore the soggy ground beneath the tires speeding up to the cave to get all the electronics in there. Mike pulled his messenger and a radio out to keep with them, and then they sped back down to the house, hoping to get the last of the solar panels and batteries loaded up and taken to the cave.

They all stopped to take a short breather on the porch, exhausted from their fast pace work and heavy lifting. Taylor turned on NANN as they sat to rejuvenate before finishing the heavy lifting the rest of the solar system would require.

“Breaking News,” they heard come across the still-active state-run media. “Nuclear explosions are occurring all across the The People's Republic of Pacific States, the Soviet Union, and their allies. Reports are that several detonations occurred hundreds of miles above their largest cities as well.

“The enemies who levied such deadly devastation against us just yesterday no longer exist. I can say with confidence that World War III is now over.

“And this just in. We're receiving word from the Pentagon that... What! Holy Sh..! Um, Oh my God! Ladies and gentlemen. Fellow Americans. I've just been informed that this will be our last broadcas...”

Table of Contents

Copyright

Chapter 1 Unwanted Neighbors

Chapter 2 The Crash

Chapter 3 Friends Become Family

Chapter 4 Reaching Out

Chapter 5 Reluctant Leader

Chapter 6 Making Sense of it All

Chapter 7 Trespassers

Chapter 8 Fighting to Live

Chapter 9 Preparing For The Worst

Chapter 10 Three Powers

Chapter 11 Organized Resistance

Chapter 12 Surveillance & Strategy

Chapter 13 Death & Life

Chapter 14 Justice & Liberty

Chapter 15 Reorganizing

Chapter 16 Heavy Heart

Chapter 17 Escalation

Chapter 18 Crushed