299 Days: The Stronghold (21 page)

Dennis would get the CDs to Adrienne in Olympia where she made a handful of copies on her computer. She got them out to people Joyce identified. Those people did the same, and the number of copies started to slowly grow. People in the Olympia area, then the Seattle area, then beyond, started to risk getting arrested to hear Rebel Radio on CD.

Adrienne’s cover was selling pot. No one went to jail for that. It wasn’t the hard drugs that the gangs sold, so there wasn’t any danger of pissing them off. Adrienne’s cover for sneaking around and meeting people on street corners was that she was selling pot. That was much more socially acceptable than distributing Rebel Radio CDs, and much less likely to get her in trouble with the law.

The hard part was getting blank CDs. At some point, the stores in Olympia would wise up and stop selling them or, worse yet, arrest the people buying blank CDs in bulk, so Adrienne decided to get some blank CDs on her own. And maybe have some fun in the process.

Cam, a guy down the street, who was half cute, worked for the state as a high-ranking computer guy. Actually, Cam used to work for the state, but since they weren’t paying him anymore, he didn’t go to work. Adrienne told him one day that she was making music CDs and selling them to make enough to supplement her FCard, but she couldn’t find any blank CDs. He said he had cases of them at work and he still had the keys. She winked, gave him her sexiest look—which was very sexy—and asked him, “What does a girl have to do get herself some of those CDs?”

Cam was happy to oblige. This whole Crisis had been stressful and bleak. Now a beautiful woman wanted to sleep with him. That was the best news he’d had in years. And all she wanted was some stupid CDs sitting at work. Cam couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Every week or so when she needed CDs, Adrienne went over to Cam’s place and snuck in a quickie. She actually enjoyed it. She even went over a couple times when she didn’t need CDs. The fact that she was doing it for the Resistance made it even more exciting. Cam was married, so Adrienne knew he wouldn’t rat her out because he didn’t exactly want any attention paid to the fact that he was having an affair and stealing state property. Besides, Dennis said he would take care of Cam if Cam decided to do something stupid.

The WAB guys had a way of knowing if the samizdat episodes were successful. In each episode, they would suggest a new graffiti message, which was the genesis of “I miss America.” Dennis would come back from town and tell them how many times he saw the graffiti they suggested in a given episode. Adrienne would hear from her network of the slogans appearing in nearby cities and tell Dennis, who would pass it on to the WAB guys. They would then do a “shout out” to that city so the people there knew that their messages were being received in the Rebel Radio “bunker” as they called their location.

This pumped up the Resistance. They knew the Rebel Radio guys could see the graffiti out there. Men and women risking arrest to spray paint Patriot graffiti got some recognition for their efforts.

But, as it turns out, the Resistance weren’t the only ones listening to the samizdat episodes of Rebel Radio.

Chapter 128

I Miss America II

(May 13)

It was another morning briefing at Camp Murray. Jason came in and said, “A light briefing today. We just have some political things to discuss,” as he got a PowerPoint ready on the screen.

“PsyOps,” Jason said, which meant the Psychological Operations soldiers of the National Guard, the propaganda unit, “has become concerned about some graffiti messages. We’re seeing more and more of this. This graffiti appears to be organized. Standardized messages and, as you’ll see, standardized colors. This alarms the PsyOps guys, who have seen this standardization as a sign of a strong insurgency in every country they’ve operated in. They’d like some suggestions on counter messages. That’s what you guys, the political people, are for. Tell me your reactions to each message and how we can counter it.”

Jeanie noticed a female soldier in the room who was new to the briefings. She was taking notes. She must be PsyOps.

Jason showed the first screen. It said in red letters “Resist!” He asked, “Thoughts?”

“Looks communist or revolutionary,” someone in the conference room said. “Kind of old fashioned. Like the 60s. Red Brigade kind of stuff.” The group agreed it was not effective because it was associated with the Red Brigade. No need to counter that message because it actually drove people toward the government. They would want the government to protect them from the Red Brigade.

“OK,” said Jason, “now what do you think?” It said in yellow paint: “Resist.”

“More effective,” someone else said. “Doesn’t seem communist, especially with the ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ yellow color. And no exclamation point. More of a statement to resist than a call to an uprising. It seems more adult and even keeled than the red ‘Resist!’” The group agreed this was an effective message. The best counter message they could come up with was “why resist recovery?” Someone proposed a counter message of “why resist returning to normal?” The group quickly shot that down because returning to the “normal” of, say, a few weeks or even years ago was returning to a budget collapse, massive unemployment, inflation, a dysfunctional political system, and corruption. The group agreed that a yellow “Resist” was a powerful message for the Patriots.

Another screen showed “Be the Resistance” in Patriot yellow. The group agreed this was effective, too because it was asking people to be drawn into something bigger than him or herself. It was recruiting people. And they could join by just “being.” The PsyOps soldier said, “This is the perfect ‘Gray Man’ message: Just be yourself and quietly resist. No one is asking you to die. Just ‘be.’ This is a powerful message.” No one had a counter message for “Be the Resistance.” It was a great slogan for the Patriots.

The next screen said, in black, “There is no gov’t.” The first person said, “I think this helps us. ‘There is no gov’t’ drives people toward safety and security, and that’s us. People want government now since it’s the only thing getting food onto the shelves. So saying there is no government adds to the crisis atmosphere and makes government even more needed and desired.”

Jeanie disagreed about the “There is no gov’t” graffiti. She said, “I think it’s fairly effective. It challenges our authority. That’s how insurgencies win. The black paint is a symbol of anarchists, which most people don’t like, so that part of the message is ineffective. But you put that message in yellow, the so-called Patriot color, and people will say, ‘Yeah, there is no government. They’ve screwed everything up. We’ve got nothing to lose by turning on the government.’ That hurts us.” Jeanie realized she was able to peer into the mind of the Undecideds and even the Patriots a little too well. Because, she hated to admit it, that’s where her natural sympathies laid.

The next screen had in green paint, “They’re not listening to you.” Everyone agreed that message hurt the government, but people thought the green color conveyed an environmentalist message, which was confusing. “You put ‘They’re not listening to you’ in Patriot yellow and you’ve got a powerful message,” someone said. Most nodded.

“This is the last one,” Jason said. It was the most powerful one in his opinion. It said “I miss America” in yellow.

“Wow!” Jeanie said. “That one stings. It captures everything we don’t want people thinking. The past was good: no shortages, no serious crime, no financial collapse, no states ‘opting out.’ No bad stuff.”

Jeanie continued, “This ‘I miss America’ message captures everyone’s hopes and dreams about the greatness of America and how it has been destroyed. That captures the sentiment of,” Jeanie almost said “most,” but settled on “many people out there. Not to mention the play on words about ‘Miss America’ the beauty contest. That,” said Jeanie, “is a powerful message.” Jeanie looked around the room. Most of the people were not pleased that she was so enthusiastic about what a great message “I miss America” was. So she needed to focus back on her job: a counter message.

Jeanie said, “The only counter message is ‘America always sucked.’ No one wants that to be their argument.”

Chapter 129

Granny on Guard

(May 13)

Guard duty was one of the things that was very different for the families on Prosser Road. They never had a need for a guard at the gate to Prosser Road before, but now they did, even though they didn’t have a lot of people out there. A few of them were Jeff Prosser’s older aunts and uncles so they weren’t much help on guard duty. Besides Jeff and the WAB guests—Tom, Ben, and Brian—the only other two guard candidates were Dennis, who was in his mid-thirties, and “Granny” as they called her. She was Jeff’s great aunt; in her sixties, but in good shape. She spent her whole life on the farm and could handle a few hours of sitting by the gate with a shotgun, especially if it wasn’t raining.

Besides, no one came to the gate on Prosser Road. They were way out in the sticks, several turns off the main road. People had to know where they were going to get there. Granny often took a guard shift in the morning. She liked it. She was outside where it was quiet. One of the guys would take the afternoon guard duty and then two more would split night guard duty. The WAB guests knew enough about guns to at least get a warning shot off to alert the others. Each home was like a fortress. It wasn’t exactly a “tactical” defense plan but, given that no one ever came out there, it was good enough. Probably.

As Granny was out watching some deer grazing across the road around 10 in the morning, she thought she heard the sound of a car. She did. A Prius, in fact. Coming down the road and slowing down at the Prosser Road gate. It had government license plates.

She picked up her shotgun, but held it to her side so the occupants of the car couldn’t see she had it. She hoped the car would drive past. Instead, it slowed down and stopped about fifty yards from the gate. Granny and the car just stared at each other for a while. She wanted to wave them in and chat with the visitors, which was her impulse. But, not in these times. Who knew who was in that government-looking Prius and what they wanted. Granny knew what they wanted. She was scared. Really scared.

Finally, the doors of the Prius opened up and two men came out. They were wearing pistol belts with guns and had their hands to their sides. They had hard hats. Granny recognized those hard hats from TV. They were the Freedom Corps.

The FC men were fat. They looked like they hadn’t been out of their cubicles in months. They seemed out of place with those helmets and pistol belts. They looked angry and uncomfortable.

The FC men started walking toward her. She had a little walkie talkie, but it was on the bench a few feet away. She didn’t want to look suspicious by talking on the radio. That was a tough decision: alert Jeff on the radio or just try to talk her way out of this? Her instinct was to not look suspicious. They were probably just lost.

When the men were about twenty yards away, one of them yelled—they were close enough that they didn’t need to yell—“Are you armed?” That frightened Granny. She nodded and turned so they could see her shotgun up against her side.

The FC drew their pistols and screamed at her, “Drop it! Drop it old lady or you’re dead! Drop it now, bitch!” The FC men had received a few hours of training about how most people out in the rural areas were teabaggers and probably a threat. Intimidate them, they had learned in training.

Granny was terrified. She dropped the shotgun. She put her hands up. These men were scaring her.

One of the men, the passenger, pointed his gun right at her and slowly walked forward. When he got to the gate, he grabbed the shotgun on the ground and took it. He walked back to the Prius and threw it in trunk.

“What’s your name?” the driver asked while the other one was taking the shotgun.

“Beatrice Prosser,” Granny said.

“Who lives on this road?” The other one screamed with his gun still pointed at her head.

Granny named off all the families.

“Do you know a Tom Foster from Olympia?” one of them screamed. There was really no need for the screaming, she thought.

“Who?” Granny asked. “Foster? I don’t know any Fosters and I know everyone around here. Are you sure you have the right address?” She was pulling this off pretty well, she thought. She was the most scared she’d been in her life.

The suggestion that they were lost only made the driver mad. “Shut up,” he said. “We’re not lost. We’re looking for someone. He’s a terrorist. Tom Foster of the Washington Association of Business. Do you know him or have you seen him?”

“No,” Granny said meekly. She started to cry. It was genuine. She was terrified.

It was silent for a while. The FC were deciding what to do. They would search the houses on that road. They had received a report that a few days ago that Tom Foster’s cell phone had been used in the farmhouse on the hill there. It turns out it was Derek Foster trying to call his girlfriend on his dad’s cell phone.

“Who lives there?” the FC passenger said, pointing to the house.

“Jeff and Molly Prosser,” Granny said. “Why? Have they done something illegal? They’re good people, they…”

“Shut up old lady,” said the driver. “Shut up, OK? We have to think, here.”

“OK,” Granny said. She had never been treated this way, let alone had a gun pointed at her. She was so scared. She started to shake.

The FC talked to each other and then the driver said, in a civil tone this time, “Open the gate.”

Granny went to the padlock and put in the correct combination. She wished she had radioed Jeff. Oh, God, would she be the reason they all got killed? She felt like she’d made a horrible mistake.

The lock opened and she opened the gate, and she stood there while the FC men were heading back to their car. She thought of the WAB kids. They were so sweet and innocent. They needed their parents.

That’s when Granny made a decision.