Читать книгу The Face of Freedom - Benjamin Vance - Страница 15

An answer to the knock on the walker’s door produced Duncan Parker with a strange, almost apologetic smile on his face. He was asked to come in and caught the walker with his shirt off. The walker apologized and donned his shirt noting Duncan’s look of concern at the obvious scars on his torso. The walker explained, “Counterproductive argument with a foreign national many years ago!”

“Who won?”

“It was a draw.”

“Sorry, it’s just ... anyone would ask if they saw the scars.”

“Not anyone Duncan; only someone who cares.”

“Yeah, well they look menacing.”

Just then they heard distant thunder.

The walker said, “Sounds like Julie was right about the rain.”

“Sometimes it just goes around, and sometimes it turns to hail or snow and makes a mess out of everything. One never knows what the weather is doing up here in South Alaska.” Duncan grinned, “At least that’s what Montana feels like at times. I could hardly make it over ...” He swung his hands in the air and said, “Hell, I’m just making small talk.” Pointing at the door, “What in the world was that about out there? I’ve never felt that, and I certainly wouldn’t believe it if someone told me. Is that why those guys are here from other groups you’ve visited? You knew I lied when I said I’d heard your speech before, didn’t you.”

“Yeah ... No, no! I just wanted to believe you were unimpressed or perhaps a plant. Is that supercilious or what? I wanted to believe you heard, but were not impressed. Then when I got to know you a bit better, I assumed you were fudging the truth.”

“I lied, because I missed your speech and wished I hadn’t. I was with my girlfriend ... a girl. Some of the guys from the Utah group told me about it. When I saw the look in their eyes I was jealous.”

“Not much to be jealous about if you’re a patriot. I‘m just a man on a mission trying to help save his country. You know I‘m not going to be the one that does ... don‘t you.”

“Right now I don’t know what I believe, except I would do just about anything I can to stop this insanity we’re caught up in.”

A flash and heavier crackle of thunder, much nearer, echoed up the valley. It told everyone they’d better eat and be gone except for the ones who wanted to attend the walker’s briefing.

“My dad wants me to represent the MSA. He said he’d be there, but … .”

“Then you’re the man ... among many. There’ll be a lot of questions tonight and I’ll try to answer them all as objectively and as honestly as I can. If I step on the toes of the military or National Guard, I hope you understand my intent is not to alienate anyone, but to combine minds, forces and resolve.”

They heard the start of intermittent rain drops on the roof. As they looked at each other the murmur of voices outside proclaimed that not everyone took the thunder seriously.

The walker spoke first, “Why don’t you forget about everything else and write down the questions you want to ask tonight. There’s no limit. Think deeply and ask directly. I think yours may be the best.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll jot down a few salient points to ponder. I‘ll ask Julie and Dad if they have any input.”

“They won’t have anything you haven’t thought about. Discuss it with them though and I don’t care if they attend. It’s a free country ... at present.”

“Okay, see you at about seven. Are you and Teddy going to get something to eat?”

“I’ll come late so I won’t have to disturb people. Teddy is of the same mind.”

Smiling, he said, “See you then; sorry to bother you.”

“You didn’t. See you later Duncan.”

The walker relaxed when Duncan left and second-guessed himself about the challenge to come up with questions. Still ... he knew what Duncan could do if challenged. He’d be ready for the questions. He hoped some would be new. He’d count on Duncan for that. It began to rain in earnest. He hoped no one would get too wet and he hoped Altrise wouldn’t get stuck with too much food. As always, he prayed before his meeting.

He entered the mess hall at about 7:15 p.m. There was still a line around the inside of the dining area. He estimated about 200 people were still in the building. He hoped it would clear a bit before he started, but as soon as he was recognized people started to applaud. He raised his right hand in appreciation, nodded his head and mouthed “Thank You” several times. He knew better than to go to the back of the line so he went to his host’s table and asked to be seated. No one there had begun to eat, as was the custom with a host. He was relatively safe as long as he didn’t stray too close to the food line. He suddenly realized he was starving.

No one at the table knew where to start. It was raining, many people had not eaten and many had already headed for home. No one knew who would eat and when the food would stop. Leave it to Julie to ask the question on everyone’s mind, “If I find some fishes and some loaves, do you think you could feed us all?”

He laughed for the first time in months. It actually did hurt, but it hurt in a good way. Most at the table laughed cordially, and Julie turned a nice shade of red and found something on her plate that was very interesting for a moment. That broke the ice and although few in the noisy building overheard the comment, it lifted a dark veil and everyone started to talk and visit again.

The ladies in the kitchen were being relieved for the third time by ladies from the MSA. One in particular, with tattoos aplenty on her arms and neck caught his attention. She was serving with one hand and holding a baby on her hip with the other. She would give up neither the baby nor the mission. He loved that kind of dedication wherever he found it, even if obstinacy was the reason. He thought perhaps that penchant for stubbornness is how we won the Battle of the Bulge during WW II.

When things returned to normal at the table, he found he was surrounded by friendly spirits. Even Ralph and Isadora were there. He found it hard not to look Isadora in the eye now and she seemed to have the same problem. That druggy façade was not as discernable as before. He talked amiably with most, over coffee which he spiked with lots of sugar and cream. They waited for another thirty minutes until most had eaten. Then Duncan asked if they could move some tables together and start. The walker was visibly relieved. The men started to move tables. Immediately the short straw winners began to gather around and introduce themselves. Some were women. All were interested and had paper pads to make notes. Once they were settled, food appeared on the table for those who would not have a chance in the line. The sense in the room was urgent, serious and unidirectional.

Once everyone had been superficially introduced, someone started passing around a pad for folks to write their names on. The walker stopped the pad and stood up. He said, “No one here should worry about their names being on a piece of paper the federal government can find and use against us. I certainly will not affix my name, and I do not want to be responsible for any of you getting hurt unless the time is right for you. I can see you’re wondering what I mean by that. There will come a time when each of you, some individually and some as a group may find it necessary to defend our country with force. I hope it never happens, but expect that it might. Anonymity might be the difference between success and failure. When patriots are of one mind and spirit, names are for history books; not police ledgers.”

He waited a few seconds, took a drink of coffee, cleared his throat and asked if there were any questions. A young lady asked Ralph Lazenby’s question, “What is your real name?”

“I contend that my real name is not important. What is important is that you get no impetus from me; that no one follows me; that no one refers to me and says so and so was a good guy, but some of his patter was flawed. I hate hero worship. My hero was Roy Rodgers. He deserved my childish worship. I have met no man since that can live up to his example. If I have no identity, which by the way the FBI is probably trying to establish as we speak, then you have only my message and my recommendations to take, or not take.”

The only sound for a while was the rain on the roof and runoff falling outside. That seemed to satisfy everyone except Duncan. He asked, “When we find out who you really are, as you infer we will, what will happen then?”

“There will be no need for anything to happen because of knowing my name. The need for things to happen will be because of you and Americans like you. I can assure you I am not a criminal or mass murderer so you shouldn’t eventually be embarrassed by having heard my message and suggestions, or my name and history.”

Someone else cut to the chase and asked, “What are your suggestions?”

“First, that each organization like yours, combines into equal but separate organizations with one thing in mind; the rescue of our country. ‘That you share information regarding political partners who embrace your credo. ‘That those principles share the truths written into our Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of our country, and that you enforce those inferred ethics upon every elected government official in this country. That’s the hard part. Preparing to do it is the easy part.”

He gave them time to assimilate what he’d just said and began his lengthy suggestions on defenses, armories, communications, weapons strategy and practice, storage of food, water and ammunition and monitoring of possible government plants. He reiterated the Ruby Ridge fiasco, the Waco Texas massacre and the possibility that anyone could be labeled a terrorist threat, individually or en mass if it suited the government. His basic message was, “Be politically and tactically proficient!” When he was finished, he knew he’d infused the spirit of revolution in the group. Whether it would be there tomorrow was a different question.