Dominatus (32 page)

The sound of the M2 gun interrupted my program, followed soon after by several bombs landing just outside the cave.  The explosions again dimmed the lights as the walls of the communications room groaned under the strain.  The door to the room opened and Mac stepped inside.

“Sorry to interrupt you – we’re all listening.  Got a few more drones doing some business outside but things are holding up well enough.  Already shot one of them down.  Keep on doing your thing…finish your talk.”

Mac closed the door as I again faced the microphone.  I took a deep breath as quietly as I could before continuing. 

“Can you hear that listeners?  That’s the sound of YOUR government attempting to kill those who simply chose to live their lives in freedom.  Who chose to honor the memory of the United States of America.  Drones are bombing us now, sent here by the New United Nations.  Sent here to kill women and children, and men who served and defended a country and way of life that our collective ignorance and laziness allowed to be overtaken and destroyed.

“These people are really no different than you.  They are doctors, accountants, bikers, students, former soldiers, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters – all brought together by a simple desire to work hard and be left alone.  That’s it listener - to work hard, and to be left alone.  And for that, this government, YOUR government, would have them dead.”

Another series of explosions rocked the communications room.  This time the lights went out completely for a brief moment, before flickering back to life.  The M2 gun was firing repeatedly now with no delay between rounds.

“George Washington once said that government is without reason, without eloquence.  That it is at its most basic premise, simple force.  That it is like a fire – a dangerous servant and fearful master.  That fire has overcome all of us. It has burned down what once was the United States of America, and left in its place the searing, destructive, and deadly heat of the New United Nations.

“When I was a child, no more than ten, I found myself in nearly constant conflict with a bully at school.  He was taller than me, larger, stronger, and nearly every day his primary purpose seemed intent on making my life a hellish existence.  I finally went to my teacher, Ms. Foster, and explained what he was doing.  The pushing and shoving, the elbows to the ribs, stealing my property.  I remember clearly what this teacher told me with a smile on her face but eyes that looked back at me with cold disdain.  She explained that this other student, this bully, had come from a difficult home and that I should try to better understand that.  She went on to point out, in the by then widely accepted politically correct language that almost all educators seemed to show complete devotion to, that he was an African American, while I was White, and so that was even more reason for me to be more understanding of him and that my attempt to get him in trouble was the cause of his distrust and dislike of me.  Basically, I was being told I was the problem!  I was the reason this other person was pushing me down, and taking my things.  And apparently…all of the anti-bullying rhetoric of the school really only applied to a certain segment of the population – and certainly not to this other Black student.

“I went home that day and told my parents.  My father decided he would handle it in his own way, which was nothing more then him telling me that I had to decide if I was going to allow myself to be a victim.  His words that day have remained with me ever since.

“‘Son, you have to decide if you are going to stand up for yourself or let this other kid push you around.  It’s that simple.  Sometimes in this world, you have to fight fire with fire because that’s the only thing some people will understand.  Don’t worry about your teacher, this Ms. Foster – she’s an idiot.  Unfortunately, so many of our schools today are in no short supply of idiots.  Now I’m not telling you to hate this other student.  In fact, there’s probably plenty about him to feel sorry for – mostly that he lives in a society that doesn’t want to make him accountable for his own behavior and some day, if he doesn’t change,  that’s going to catch up to him and it’ll probably hurt him in a very bad way.  But as far as what you can do, when it involves yourself and your property, you have a choice to make him accountable.  Sometimes, you just got to ball up your fist and smack him one as hard as you can.  Fire with fire.  Now after you do this, that teacher of yours, or the principal, whatever…they might try to punish you for it and that’s ok too.  Send your message to that other kid, and take the punishment.  As a man, sometimes you have to be willing to make that choice.  And this is your choice…I’m just giving you my advice.  My suggestion is that you decide from here what you want to do about this.’

“I took my dad’s advice.  He spent an hour or so showing me how to throw a punch – an exercise my mom did not appear overly supportive of.  The next day just outside the school entrance there stood my bully waiting to torment me.  He pushed me to the ground as he had done so many times before, but this time when I stood back up my fist flew into the side of his face.  I remember the odd feeling of my knuckles smashing into the soft fleshy texture of his cheeks and the odd smacking sound that connection made.

“The bully’s left hand began rubbing his face where I hit him, his eyes watering up in shock and pain.  Then those eyes turned angry and I knew I was in for a real fight.  He grabbed me by my jacket and threw me to the ground again, his greater weight pinning me down as he attempted to choke me.  I knew then I had better be willing to give as good as I got – to fight fire with fire as my dad had explained to me.  So…I took both my hands and grabbed as much of his ample cheeks as I could and squeezed – HARD. I doubt you will find that particular technique in any professional fighter’s arsenal of tricks, but the results were favorable.  The bully let go of my throat as he screamed in pain, rolling off of my chest and onto his back.

“By then some of the school office staff were outside looking down at the both of us.  We were brought into the vice principal’s office and asked what had happened.  To my surprise, before I was able to answer for myself, the bully spoke up to say we had simply tripped outside and fallen to the ground.  I was asked to confirm that version of things…and I did.  I’m not sure why I did, some kind of unspoken code by kids against authority figures perhaps.  I’m sure the vice principal didn’t believe the story, but with both of us supporting the same lie, we were allowed to leave the office with no more requirement than to be more careful.

“Once outside I feared the bully would quickly attempt to extract some revenge for his likely still painful cheeks, but instead, he simply went his own way leaving me to stand there and contemplate what he was really up to.  In the days and weeks that followed he continued to leave me alone, and eventually, would even nod his head in greeting as I walked past him.  By the time the school year was set to end, we were actually speaking to one another on a regular basis, and that summer, he became a regular visitor to my home where he would always rave about my mother’s cooking and how crazy it was my father kept so many books in his study.

“We became friends. 

“He was never a particularly good student, but far more importantly, he was a remarkable human being.  In fighting fire with fire I found his flame burned very similar to my own – two young boys who shared the hopes and dreams of youth, and the prospective possibilities of impending adulthood.  His path was tougher, given the challenges of his family, but he seemed content to deal with that as best he could while remaining a trusted and reliable friend to me.

“By the time we graduated high school the United States was already quickly descending into its merging with what became the New United Nations and the world we knew as kids was fading into oblivion.  I attended college while he enlisted in the military.  Within a few years of that enlistment I imagine he, like all members of the U.S. Military at that time, was required to pledge his oath to the New United Nations and the Great Consulate, Barack Obama.  And as I lost touch with my former friend, so too did an entire people lose touch with their former country – the United States of America.

“My friend’s name was Merrick.  If you are out there and you hear this message, ask yourself if you are a friend or once again simply a bully.  Do you and other officers of the New United Nations question the authority that moves your hand to decimate so many lives?  Are you providing security to the innocent, or ensuring the continuation of tyranny?

“You were once, like America, my friend.

“Will I ever see my friend, and my country… again?”

I let out a long sigh, this time not bothering to mask the sound from the microphone.

“The drones will continue to bomb us.  For how long…none here know.  I imagine until they finally destroy this structure and kill all of us inside it, and then like so many others who have faced a similar fate at the hands of this government, we will be buried and forgotten.  None will be allowed to speak of Dominatus for fear of facing the same punishment.  And so the New United Nations will continue extracting every bit of freedom from your lives until none remains.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way.  Anyone with the desire to be free again, and the will to fight for that freedom, whether you are a citizen or a soldier, can now stand up and do so.  Rise up and be counted with us.  And when Dominatus falls, as it likely will, continue that fight yourselves.  Let this smoldering fire of resistance grow and spread to Anchorage, Seattle, Los Angeles, Denver, St. Louis, Houston, Chicago, Miami, New York, Washington D.C, and across oceans to the rest of the world.  In every city, every town, and every home, I pray that this time, you not forget those who were silenced for nothing more than living lives of respectful liberty.  Lives that followed the once valued traditions of America – that great Shining City on a Hill.  Let our memories, and the memories of those slain before us, be the foundation for the rebuilding of that city – for the return of America.

“Don’t allow Dominatus to die in vain.”

XXIV.

As the sound of yet more drone bombs filtered into the communications room I powered down the transceiver and leaned back in the chair, my eyes closing for a moment as my chin rested on my chest.  Another bomb blast.  And another.  And another.

The door opened and Mac entered quietly, closing it behind him. 

“Reese, you did good.  That was…you spoke for all of us here.  In your own way, you managed to speak for every single one of us, and a whole lot more listening out there too I’m sure.”

I looked up at Mac, noting one of the lenses of his glasses had a slight crack in the upper right corner.

“For all the good it will do Mac…for all the good it will do.”

The drone bombings continued, rattling the door frame and again extinguishing the power momentarily.

“How much longer do we have before they tear down this place?”

Mac shook his head.

“Ah, they still haven’t got through the second blast door.”

“What happened to the first door?”

“Oh hell, that gave way a while ago.  That was expected.  Whatever.”

“And the M2…you have to be running out of ammo soon.”

Mac rubbed his right hand across the top of his head and then to the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we’re getting down to our last couple hundred rounds.  We’ve shot down another five of those things…but they keep sending more.  Has to be costing them a fortune to mess with us.  I’ll admit, didn’t think they’d come at us this hard.”

We both stopped talking, noting it had grown silent.  The drone bombing, for now, had ceased.

Mac nodded in the direction of the door.

“I’m gonna touch base with Keith again.  You wanna come with me?  Then go check in on the Old Man? Dublin’s with him in the medical room.”

I did want to see Dublin again – a great deal.

“Yeah…thanks.  Right behind you, Mac.”

I followed Mac back into the defense room where Keith remained seated in front of the monitor with a cup of coffee in his right hand and a half-eaten plate of food on the counter to his left.  The monitor showed no sign of drones in the area.

When Keith saw me walking into the room behind Mac, he put his coffee down and rose from his seat with his hand extended to shake my own.

“Awesome, Reese.  That was just…fucking awesome.  I hope people were listening.  I know they were.  I hope they were REALLY listening and ready to do something about all this – this fucking government bullshit.”

“Thank you, Keith.  I hope so too.”

Mac was reviewing the data scrolling across the screen, his brow furrowing a bit as he did so.

“We are down to a hundred and seventy-three rounds, Keith.  Christ, we gotta save something for the way in here, in case they send officers up to the second blast door and try and blow it apart.  We can’t…we can’t afford to fire at those drones anymore.  Take the sight sensor offline, point the gun at the entrance and go manual only.  No automatic firing.  We gotta conserve what ammo we have left for the M2.  Any more of those drones get shot down while I was gone?”

Keith nodded.

“Hell yeah…that last batch.  All three of them.  The system is working flawlessly.  You sure you want to take the sight offline, Mac?”

“Got no choice, Keith.  We have to be able to defend the entrance.  They want to keep bombing this hillside, so be it.  Might get a little dirty in here but we’ll hold up.  We still have a hell of a lot of rock and steel between us and them.”