Dominatus (9 page)

Mac presented a plate of smoked salmon, several slices of thick-crusted bread, mustard, and two large glasses of what both smelled and looked to be a particularly dark beer.  He was already throwing slices of the salmon atop a piece of bread with mustard, and then washing all of it down with the beer.  Between bites he managed to speak again.

“What about Dublin?  She’s rather remarkable too.  You seemed to notice her as well.”

Now I knew where the source of the mischief I sensed in Mac’s voice, while trying not to betray any embarrassment and pretending to focus entirely on the plate of food in front of me.

“Yes – very pretty woman.  Seems to care for her grandfather a great deal.”

“That she does.  She’s smart too.  And strong willed.  She’ll do a great job of showing you around Dominatus.”

Mac paused for just a few seconds before proceeding with yet another question.

“So, you think you’ll be interviewing her as well?  I mean, I assume you would.  No reason not to, right?”

I stopped chewing and looked directly at Mac, who returned my stare with a broad grin.

“What?  I say something wrong?”

Shaking my head, I went back to the food – the smoked salmon was delicious.

The entrance door opened behind me and I felt a rush of cold air from outside enter the room. I turned around expecting to see Dublin but instead it was tall man with the ponytail who had been at the tavern yesterday during Mac’s confrontation with Officer Denny.

Mac shouted out a greeting.

“Hey Keith, I don’t think I introduced you to Reese yesterday.  Carol’s little visit sidetracked my good manners I suppose.  Reese – this here is Keith Hughes, one of the guys who helps out with security around here.  Keith – this is Reese Neeson.  I told you about him a few weeks back, about him planning on visiting us.”

Keith looked down at me and then to the almost completely depleted plate of food.  His right hand shot out to grab the last remaining slice of bread and salmon as his left hand extended toward me, making itself available to shake my own.  His grip was strong, the interior of his hand rough and calloused.  I noted several tattoos that covered the exposed area of his forearm.

“Nice to meet you Reese.  Guess you brought us some excitement yesterday.  That little fucker Carol isn’t worth the trouble.”

Mac placed a third glass of the dark beer in front of Keith.

“Any reports of activity Keith?  Word from the reservation?”

Keith took a long drink from his glass, emptying half the contents before wiping his mouth with the back of a hand and giving Mac a response.

“Nope.  Quiet.  Whatever threats Carol left here with seem to be empty.  At least for now.  No drones spotted.  No sign of Carol at the reservation.  No activity on the road up here.  Nothing.”

Mac looked at me and then nodded his head in Keith’s direction.

“Keith was a biker – Hells Angels.  How long ago did you come up here Keith?”

Keith finished off the beer and his eyes gazed up at the low hanging ceiling of Freedom Tavern.

“That would be, four, five years ago now.  Me and my old lady were living in Portland.  I did seven years for owning a shotgun.  Fuckers charged me with tax evasion and owning a gun.  Same thing as Mac, they used the gun ban to send us away.  Hell, the gun wasn’t even loaded.  Old enough to be considered a damn antique.  They found it in the back of a closet – knew exactly where to look too.  The shells were kept in another room, locked up in a safe.  The gun was my old man’s, was at least thirty…maybe forty years old.  They found that shotgun and just smiled at me, said I was going away for a long time.  And they were right about that.  Seven years.  Took everything I had to keep myself sane.  The only thing that did it for me was knowing my old lady was waiting.  She coulda packed it up and ran, but she didn’t.  So, I got out, had heard about this place, actually heard about it inside, so as soon as I was out up we came.  Mac met me on the trail, escorted me to the tavern here.  People at the reservation had already notified him I was coming up.  Met the Old Man himself and he said we could stay.  Just like that.  We built a little cabin.  It’s a pretty sorry piece of work, but I love it out here.  And I owe people like Mac, the Old Man…I owe them my life.”

Keith looked at me and then back at Mac before his eyes returned to staring at the ceiling.

“This is my home.”

The three of us sat in silence for nearly a minute before Keith pointed over to the jukebox.

“Where’s the music Mac?”

Mac, who appeared to have been lost in his own thoughts, tapped the top of the bar.

“Music?  Right!  Let’s crank that thing back up!”

He strode to the end of the room and flipped on a wall switch, and the jukebox rattled somewhat reluctantly back to life, the first song of the newest day at Freedom Tavern was by a group that had called itself Alabama titled
Mountain Music.

Keith was clearly happy with the selection, loudly singing along to the first verse.

“Now THAT’s more like it!”

As Keith shouted his approval I felt another blast of cold air signaling the door was opening behind me again.  This time it was the slight figure of Dublin that entered.  Even though her face was partially hidden by the hood of her large winter jacket, I could see the flash of a smile as she caught Keith doing an awkward little dance to the song while Mac laughed out loud. 

I was startled and then fascinated as Dublin took several quick steps toward Keith, joining him in his comedic dance, her gloved hands rising above her head as her own laughter now mixed with Mac’s, who was now also dancing behind the bar, his hands clapping to the beat of the music.

The more rational part of my mind took note of the surreal nature of the moment as I realized I was witnessing a former Hells Angel biker, a former Navy SEAL, and the granddaughter of a man who had been among the wealthiest men in the world, all dancing together to an old country song from some fifty years ago. The less rational part of me also began to realize I found Dublin Meyer to likely be the most attractive woman I had ever met.

At little more than five feet tall, Dublin was dwarfed by the six-foot Keith, whose lanky body attempted a comically awkward twirl much to the delight of Dublin, who urged him on with yet more laughter.  The hood of her coat had been removed from her head, allowing her long brown shoulder length hair to do its own dance as it moved from left to right around her.  Mac continued pounding the top of the bar with one hand while the other extended an enthusiastic thumbs up to the dancing pair.  Unlike yesterday, Mac now appeared much younger than his seventy three years.

As the song ended, Keith collapsed into a chair, a wide grin breaking across his before then, perpetually sullen face as he prepared to light a cigarette.  Dublin gave him a mock curtsey before doing a half skip-walk back toward me.  I noted the handgun, like so many others I had seen in Dominatus, hanging from her hip.

She sat next to me at the bar, as Mac placed a newly poured beer in front of her. Taking a drink, Dublin then turned to me, her dark eyes clearly evaluating this newest visitor to her home in the Alaskan wilderness.

“So my grandfather tells me I should show you around Dominatus and answer any questions you have.  He hopes to see you for dinner tonight as well.”

Her voice was pleasant – soft, though with an underlying tone of strength.  I panicked as I realized I had not responded to her comment, and panicked further as I glanced over at Mac who stood with arms crossed, grinning at my incompetent attempts at conversation with a woman I was becoming increasingly attracted to at seeming warp speed.  Before my silence devolved into outright pathetic, I blurted out a reply.

“Yeah…uh…that would be great. I would appreciate that very much.  Your grandfather is an amazing man.  Really, all this…it’s really something.  I mean…really-really something.”

My god!  I had spent years crafting words and none of that experience, nor those words, were available to me now.

Dublin’s eyebrows raised slightly, followed by the smile I had seen peeking out from under her hood earlier.

“Yes – Grandfather is an amazing man.  Is that what brought you all the way up here to Dominatus?  To meet him?”

“No…not…not entirely.  No.  I…my father had told me about this place years ago.  Many times since then, and…he died.  Last year.  And…I wanted to see it.  He told me to come see it, so…it’s part of what I do.  My uh…my program.  My communications.” 

Dublin took another drink from her beer.

“I heard about your dad.  Mac has told me some of that.  So has my grandfather.  And I’ve listened to your program.  Quite a bit actually.  You’re something of a celebrity around here.  Around a lot of places I imagine.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I would call myself a celebrity.  I hope I give a voice to some people, that’s all.  I’m trying to stop everyone from forgetting how great this country used to be.  Maybe, just maybe we can get it back if enough people remember, or learn about it.  Learn about places like Dominatus.  People like your grandfather.”

As our conversation continued, I found myself more at ease, and realized Dublin had allowed me to speak about my own interest as a way of accomplishing this.  It was a gesture a less empathetic person would not have bothered with.

She leaned into me, placing her right hand on my arm and squeezing gently.  I fought the urge to inhale too deeply, so appreciative I was of the gesture.

“So you’re here to tell the story of Dominatus – is that it?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.  With their permission, the people here, your grandfather, that’s what I’m hoping to do.  I think it’s a story that needs to be heard by as many others as possible.”

Dublin leaned away from me,  the loss of her brief touch on my arm already greatly missed.

“I tell you what Mr. Reese Neeson…Mr. celebrity, how about we start this at that table over there in the corner?  I would like to ask YOU some questions, and you can ask me about things too, and then after that, after we get to know each other a little better, I’ll decide if I want to spend the time showing you around Dominatus.  Do we have a deal?”

I sensed my smile spreading across my face – willingly giving in to the charm of Dublin Meyer.

“That sounds just fine, Ms. Meyer.  After you…”

As Dublin rose to walk the short distance to the designated table, I glanced back at Mac and saw him giving me the a-ok signal as he prepared two newly poured beers.  Without looking back herself, Dublin’s voice rang out in mock anger.

“Mind your own business Mac.”

Mac’s eyes widened momentarily as he mouthed the words “good luck” to me.  I could hear Keith laughing quietly from the other side of the tavern.  Following behind Dublin I sensed the very real possibility this was the hopeful beginnings of one of the most important conversations of my life.

VII.

Dublin took off her jacket and placed it behind her chair, before sitting down herself and looking across the small table at me.  I caught the slight smell of lavender from her, finding the scent as appealing as her appearance.  Seemingly satisfied with both her seat and her beer, she initiated the continuation of our conversation.

“So Reese, how long have you been transmitting your program on the short wave?”

“About….almost ten years.  I started when I was in my late twenties.  The Internet had become much too dangerous, highly monitored.  So, a friend I had at the time suggested short wave radio as a way to get around the government controls, and it worked.  It’s still working.  You use the same thing up here, right?”

Dublin gave a nod before taking another drink from her beer.

“Yeah, my grandfather has been using it for some time.  Just about everyone has one up here, especially handhelds.  We change the frequency often to keep our communications as private as possible, but if they are listening in we don’t really care.  We just go on living our life up here.

“So, if you started ten years ago, that makes you about thirty-five years old right?”

“Almost thirty-nine actually.  Which is a couple years older than you, right?

Dublin shook both a finger and her head at me.

“Now how would you know that?”

It was my turn to smile.

“Research.”

Dublin took another sip of beer, her eyes peering at me over the glass.

“Research, huh?  I see.  So you already know a lot more about us than we know about you.”

“I wouldn’t say that.  Certainly Mac knows a lot about me…and I’m sure your grandfather does, as well.”

There was her smile again - my heart raced.  I realized my initial attraction to Dublin was not lessening the more we spoke, but rather increasing at an alarming pace.

“Aren’t you worried they’re going to shut you down?  Lock you away?  Charge you with anti-government propaganda, or whatever mandate violations they are throwing at people these days?”

I shrugged.

“I know it’s always a risk, and that is another reason for this trip.  The government presence is much less up here, so it gives me some time to evaluate where I might go after this.”