The WAB guys—Tom, Brian, and Ben—continued to put out their Rebel Radio CDs highlighting the political situation and encouraging people to rise up. Dennis, one of Jeff’s cousins, would take the CDs into Olympia and get them to Adrienne who would make copies of the CDs and get them out to Patriots. Then the Patriots who would listen to them, make copies, and pass them along to trusted friends. It was an amazingly good distribution system.
Tom, Brian, and Ben had no idea if anyone was listening to the CDs, but Dennis would come back from Olympia and tell them which graffiti messages were spray painted in town. They were stunned when they realized the phrases they used on the Rebel Radio CDs were popping up on walls and overpasses in Olympia. Adrienne told Dennis that the phrases were being spotted in Seattle and elsewhere. For the first time, the WAB guys thought that people were listening and, surprisingly, their little podcast was having an impact. That made them work harder at making Rebel Radio even better.
Jeff was glad he had that five hundred gallon underground tank of diesel at the farm. It fueled his tractor and a few of the trucks that transported the guards from the other farms out to the guard station at Delphi Road, which was the only way in and out of the area. The diesel used to transport guards, and the one man per week for guard duty, was the “tax” the Prossers and their guests paid for their security. A very good deal, Jeff thought. Considering how badly other farm communities had it.
Jeff looked out at his fields and mentally counted all the food they’d be able to harvest. There should be more than enough for themselves and some extra to barter with. But winter was coming. Would they have enough? Would his kids go hungry? What would it be like to see his children die from starvation? Would his guests have enough to eat? Would they get weak from malnutrition and come down with the flu or some other illness that wouldn’t’ be a big deal in peacetime but could be deadly when bodies had been weakened? He tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t get the thought out of his mind.
The most interesting thing to happen out at the Prosser Farm happened at the Delphi Road guard station one bright and beautiful sunny morning.
Ben was doing his week of guard duty when a young woman came walking up to the gate. She was short and had curly brown hair. She had her hands up and looked very nervous.
The alert went up and the guards were ready to shoot her or repel an attack from another direction if she were a decoy. Things were tense. Ben aimed his shotgun with rifled slugs at her. He had never pointed a gun at a person before and it was a very odd feeling for him.
She stopped when she got about fifty yards from the gate and just stood there trying to get up the courage for what she was about to do. She was shaking.
“Is there a ‘Ben’ here?” she yelled.
Everyone looked at Ben.
“Ben who?” the guard commander yelled at her.
“I can’t really say,” she yelled back.
“We can’t help you unless you can tell us who ‘Ben’ is,” the guard commander yelled.
She started crying. Ben thought he recognized that cry. He motioned for one of the guards to give him some binoculars. Ben looked at the girl.
“Oh my God!” Ben yelled. “Carly! Come here, Carly!” Ben motioned for the guards to let her in.
“You know her?” the guard commander asked Ben.
“Yes, and she’s fine,” Ben said. “Let her in.”
Carly was a former WAB intern. She worked there when she was in college before she had to drop out because of the economy. She was a great kid. A conservative. A fighter. She was a true believer that the government was corrupt and destructive, especially to small businesses. Her dad owned a little logging company and had been run out of business by the taxes and regulations.
Carly, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, had been a key political strategist for WAB. She had this way of breaking complicated political and public policy issues down into simple terms that regular people could understand. Before the Collapse she would have had a magnificent career as a political strategist. Now she was officially unemployed.
The guard commander yelled to the girl that she could come to the gate but to keep her hands up. She’d never had guns pointed at her. It was scary. She stopped crying when she realized that they were letting her in.
As she got closer, Ben came running up to her. She had lost a lot of weight so Ben didn’t recognize her at first. She looked terrified.
“Carly!” Ben said, thrilled that she hadn’t been captured. “What you doin’ here, girl?” They hugged. Ben could feel a gun in her belt.
“I’ve come with a message for you,” Carly squealed with delight. She was extremely excited. She didn’t think this crazy mission would work.
“How did you know where I was?” Ben asked. Now that their location was compromised, he was scared the WAB people at the Prosser Farm would have to move. Fast.
“I was there when you guys were at the office talking about buggin’ out to Jeff’s farm,” she whispered. “I was outside the door. I could hear through it.”
“But how did you know where the farm was?” Ben whispered to her. He didn’t want the other guards to know who he was or that Carly was from WAB.
“Oh, I came out once for an office barbeque,” she whispered back. “Remember? That one two summers ago? Your boy ate that hot dog off the ground. Remember?”
“Does anyone else know we’re out here?” Ben said, right as he realized he just gave away to her that Tom and Brian were also out there.
“No, of course not,” Carly said, a little offended. “Why would I do that? I know what they want to do to you.”
And my family, Ben thought. “OK, so no one knows?”
Carly shook her head with pride. “Yep, I told our guys that I could get a letter to you and left it at that. I asked to be dropped off at the Black Lake exit,” which was one exit away on Highway 101 and about three miles from Delphi Road.
Ben nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure he could believe that no one else knew where they were hiding, but he had to trust Carly.
“A message?” Ben asked. “And who are your ‘guys?’” By now he had walked with her over to a place where no one could hear them so he was talking at a normal level.
She nodded with glee. Ben started to realize how dangerous it was for her to come out there with a message. Walking around the countryside full of murderers, rapists, and robbers just to deliver a message. It must be pretty important.
“From who?” Ben asked.
Carly put her finger up to her lips as if to say “Shhh.” Ben’s curiosity was increasing rapidly. What was all this about? Was she going to pull that pistol and try to kill him? Why would Carly do that?
Carly looked around to make sure no one was around. Then she looked Ben in the eyes, smiled, and whispered, “The Patriots want you to be the next governor.”
Governor? Ben’s blood went cold. What? That was crazy. Did she just say that? He squinted and looked at her. He couldn’t understand what she just said.
“What are you talking about?” Ben finally got out. If this was some joke, it wasn’t funny sending a nice girl out into a combat zone just to do some gag.
Carly was brimming. “Yes, Ben, isn’t this great!” she said in a loud whisper. “You. The Governor. Super cool, huh?” Her youthful enthusiasm was such a contrast to something so grown up and serious, like being the governor.
“OK, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ben finally said. Maybe she was high. But that didn’t make sense.