Dominatus (7 page)

I knew the exact quote Mac was referring to.  The words had resided behind my father’s desk in his home office on a small plaque, a plaque the compliance officers had removed, along with most of his other personal items, following his death.  They were words I continued to repeat to myself often:

“Democracy will cease to exist when you take away from those who are willing to work and give to those who would not.”

“That’s the one!  That’s it!  As soon as enough people started taking something for nothing from the government, the country was finished.  If that government did wrong, people didn’t care as long as the checks kept coming.  Benghazi?  The people didn’t care. Just keep sending those food-stamps, that unemployment check, a tax refund for taxes they didn’t even pay, government run healthcare.  It crept up quick on us back then didn’t it?  Those years set up America for the collapse that happened so fast after that.”

Mac’s words were reminding me of so many things my dad had told me over the years, and before her own death, my mother as well.  They both would point out how things were changing, how the debt was unsustainable, how people stopped caring about anything but whatever mindless entertainment was being shown on the television or the Internet, and how much more the government was promising to give them, until eventually, whatever America once was, simply ceased to exist and in its place was a society of dependence and near total governmental authority – the authority of the New United Nations.

As the recollections of my parents’ words quickly gathered and dissipated from my mind, I saw Mac take out a single handgun from behind the bar and place it on the counter.

“You know how to use one of these, right?”

I nodded.

“Yes – a few years ago I started to practice.  It wasn’t easy.  The mandates forbid it of course. My dad had an area outside the city…we would go out there at least once a month and shoot.  He kept a handgun in his office at all times.  They, the compliance officers, they took it after he died.  They asked me about it but told them I had no idea it was in there.”

“That was good of him to do that – to teach you.  This weapon, we just call it our sidearm up here.  We all…almost all of us has one.  Every adult around here is given the opportunity to keep one of these.  It’s nothing fancy, your basic Glock19, simple loading 10-round magazine.  Ton of them produced years ago and after the weapons ban they hit the Black Market so the Old Man, he was able to gather up…let’s just say a whole lot of ‘em.  It’s a low maintenance model, reliable as hell, smooth, safe action.  Maybe the best all around handgun for the average user ever made. This thing will get the job done if need be.  The only thing I ask of you besides wearing it, is that if you pull it out, you be prepared to use it.  I’m no fan of people using a weapon like this just to intimidate. That’s bullshit and bluster garbage, not my style and I find it disrespectful of the responsibility of carrying a loaded weapon.   A handgun is meant for one thing only – to kill another human being.  If you can’t do that, if that’s not in you to point this at someone and pull that trigger, I would rather not give it to you at all.  It’s a last resort, but one you have to be willing to utilize if the situation requires.  So…do you want the weapon?”

My response came out more certain and quickly than I expected.

“No Mac – thank you, but no.  I don’t want a gun.  Not right now.  I just want to learn more about this place, and tell its story to the people who want to hear, and I think there’s a whole lot them out there.  That’s why I’m here.  I’m not here to kill anyone.”

Mac’s head tilted to the side slightly and his right eyebrow shot up.

“You sure about that?  Things might get sketchy.  I’d feel a whole lot better…I promised your dad I’d look after you up here.  Carol warned us, they could be coming up this way soon.”

“No thanks Mac…guns aren’t my thing.  Would I be the only one not carrying a sidearm in Dominatus?”

“Actually no, there’s one other person who chooses not to carry a weapon.”

“Who’s that?”

Mac paused and his eyes drifted to a window behind us and the view outside.

“The Old Man.”

“So that puts me in some pretty good company.”

Mac laughed and clapped his hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

V.

The air outside was a biting cold, the kind of cold those who have never travelled this far north could understand.  It felt good though, a reminder that one was in fact alive.

The morning sunlight lit the surroundings with a deceptively warm glow, the sound of birdsong enveloped Mac and I as we made our way toward a small footpath that led further into the trees.  Mac pointed to the narrow trail.

“I prefer to walk if that’s ok with you.  It’s about a mile up the trail, the operations center…give us a chance to talk a little more if you like.”

“What’s the operations center Mac?”

“Oh, something we put together about five years ago I guess.  I wanted a central location that most of the others could get to easily, something less exposed than my tavern.  Something we could keep an eye on people coming and going.  Plus, it’s a hell of a lot closer to the Old Man and he’s having trouble getting around these days, so it makes it easier for him to get to a meeting, which means more people are able to see him, and that’s important to everyone around here.”

I remained silent for a moment, the crunch of our footsteps upon the snow covered ground mixing now with the sounds of the birds.

“What is it about the Old Man?  People seem to hold him in such high regard.  My dad was the same way.  He didn’t speak about him a lot, but when he did, it was with a lot of respect.  Almost reverence.”

Mac looked over at me, his breathing becoming just a bit more labored as we made our way up a small hill.

“You’ll have to decide for yourself Reese when you see him today.  I’m sure he’ll have some words for us, and then you can tell yourself whether or not he’s worth the respect we give him or not.  As for me, I’d die for the Old Man.  And I’d kill for him too.”

“Some might call that more than a bit cultish Mac.”

“Yeah – but they wouldn’t understand the last twenty years of my life now would they?  Along with your dad, it was the Old Man who got me out of prison.  It was the Old Man who invited me to come up here and gave me a purpose.  He gave me my life.  He also gave me a whole lot better understanding of how and why things went so badly for America, how things ended up the way they are now.  I’ve been allowed to live the last twenty years a free man.  My rules.  My way.  My life.  There’s not a whole lot more than that a person can ask for is there?  Isn’t that what America fought for back in 1776 and so many conflicts that followed?  We were a country founded on that idea, right?  Liberty.  Freedom.  Self determination.  I never really appreciated those things until I had them taken away from me.  The Old Man gave me those things back, and I’ll be thankful to him for the rest of my days.”

“How many of those days do you think you have left?”

I saw Mac’s eyebrows raise slightly while the rest of his face betrayed no surprise at my question.  He continued to walk, though I could sense his attempt to give me a response.

“None of us really know that Reese.  Hell, I might outlive you.  The Old Man, he might outlive us all.  Or, I might drop dead here on the ground.  Who the hell knows?  And isn’t that partly how it should be?  Isn’t that why so many people gave up the freedom of not really knowing to the government, for the promise there would be no surprises?  No suffering?  That things would just be given over to them.   A few crumbs of safety here and there.  But they didn’t realize that if you take away the possibility of pain, and suffering, failure…you also take away the possibility of happiness, success, and joy.  You give up your soul to the government.”

Now it was my turn to think over a response.

‘Will we ever get it back?  America – how it used to be?”

Mac stopped and turned to me, his eyes peering up into the striking blue tones of the Alaska sky.

“No Reese, I don’t think so.  As much as I wish it would, that America…I just don’t think enough people are left to fight that battle.  To take it back.  They’ve given up.  Between the laziness, and the medications poured into them by the system…they just don’t care.  They’ve been taught not to care.”

“Does the Old Man feel the same way you do about that?  There’s no hope?”

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself, Reese.”

We approached the top of another small hill, and on the other side I viewed a large narrow structure that looked very similar to old photos I recalled seeing of a Native American longhouse.  Vehicles were parked outside, and two men who appeared armed with rifles stood on each side of its entrance.

“The operations center?”

Mac stood with both hands on his hips, looking down at the structure.

“That’s it.  Now there’s going to be some people inside there, Reese, and some of them might not be too pleased about you coming here.  They’ve all heard about Carol’s visit by now…his threats.  Be prepared for that and just keep quiet.  Let me do the talking, or the Old Man.  They’re good people here, but some of them are likely a little scared right now.”

On the roof of the operations center flew a large American flag – the traditional flag last allowed to be publicly displayed over a decade ago before the mandatory light blue New United Nations insignia was placed in the upper right corner.  The flag over the Dominatus operations center was hung upside down – an ages old distress signal that indicated imminent or ongoing danger to life and property. 

Mac began making his way down to the structure.

‘Let’s go.”

As we neared the entrance, I sensed the two armed men on either side of the door watching our approach intently.  Mac raised his hand in greeting, and turned to introduce me to each of them, addressing the shorter man on the left first.

“Reese, this here is Bill Crup.  He used to live in…it was California right Bill?  Bill used to be an accountant for one of the big firms in Sacramento.  Made his way up here about five years ago.”

Bill nodded his head and extended his hand to shake my own.  He appeared to be in his mid forties, no more than five foot nine or so, a rounded and friendly face with wide set green eyes that gleamed happily back at me - a man who looked somewhat out of place holding a Springfield 30-06 hunting rifle equipped with a classic Bushnell scope.

“Nice to meet you Reese.”

The man on the right was possibly the largest human being I had ever stood next to, and looked far less friendly than Bill Crup.  Like Bill, he appeared to be between forty and fifty years of age.  He towered over Mac and I – at least six foot eight, with massive shoulders and chest, and arms that appeared to be nearly the size of my legs.  In his left hand he held a flawless M16 assault rifle.  The giant glowered down at me as Mac introduced us.

“And this is Walter Tedlow…most people just call him Bear.  He played professional football until they banned it.  He came to us about five years ago with his wife and two kids.  Beautiful family and we’re honored to have them here.”

Bear’s glower continued and no handshake was extended, but rather a barely noticeable nod of his massive shaved head. Unlike Bill Crup, Bear’s dark eyes held no hint of friendly disposition.  The man was clearly very serious business, not someone I cared to have a disagreement with.  When he replied to Mac his voice supported the nickname as it issued forth in a low, bear-like growl.

“About fifty or so in there Mac.  No sign of the Old Man yet.  Some people are not happy about your guest.”

Bear’s eyes never left me as he spoke.

Mac’s own equally intimidating stare now directed itself fully onto Bear.

“Well that shit needs to shut down right quick now doesn’t it Bear?  I’m sure some of them didn’t like seeing you show up a couple years back, right?   His father was a friend to me and a friend to Dominatus long before you and a lot of the others arrived here, so if people got a problem with that…they are welcome to take it up with me.  And that includes you Bear, understood?”

The massive man’s eyes focused on me and then returned to Mac before once again giving a brief nod.

“Understood.”

Having made his point, Mac proceeded to open the doors to the building and motioned for me to follow behind him.  Inside stood the fifty Bear had described, quietly talking among themselves.  That talk died down almost immediately as Mac began walking toward a small stage at the opposite end of the room and I could sense more than see the eyes of everyone in the hall turning and following us.

Mac took to the small stage and raised both of his hands as both a greeting and signal he was about to speak.

“Thank you to everyone for coming here today – most of you have likely already heard about our guest.  His name is Reese Neeson.  Those of you who have been here a while might remember when his father came up here to visit.  The same man who was responsible for getting me out of prison all those years ago.”

I smiled to the faces looking at me.  Only a few cared to smile back.

Mac continued.

“Now as most of you also probably know, we were paid a visit by Compliance Officer Denny yesterday.  He had a few questions for our guest and toward the end…well…things got a little testy between Carol and me.  He made some threats, the kind of threats all of us here have been living under for a long time now.  So it’s nothing we haven’t prepared for, or expected, but again, we all realize that over the last few years the New United Nations has taken more interest in Dominatus because more people are hearing about how we live, what we stand for…and that’s a dangerous thing to the ones who want to keep things like personal freedom and liberty buried away and out of sight.”