the entrance of the terminal that would just create another choke point where people will gather and terrorists can target. If I had to guess, I'd say they'll not allow any type of baggage to be taken into the airport. It'll all have to be shipped via FedEx or something. It'll still be on the plane, but passengers will have to drop it off somewhere other than the airport a few days in advance."
"Well, that sucks," said Samantha. "Why keep going after airports, Vic?" She finished her sandwich and was eyeing the uneaten half of Mary's. Mary slid it over to her and smiled.
"Because the ability to go just about anywhere we want, just about anytime we want is a symbol of our civilization. It's a symbol of our freedom. They want that to crumble."
Mary took Samantha's hand and squeezed it. "How close are we, Vic - to when the shit hits the fan?"
"Closer today than yesterday." He face showed his certainty. "But it's probably a year or two or three away. Things will get worse though. You can feel that. It's like it's in the air."
They knew what he meant. The slow decline of their civilization was accelerating. Sooner or later, things would hit a tipping point and all hell would break loose. Everyone could feel something was just not right.
Mary looked Samantha directly in the eye, "You have your bug out bag all ready, right?"
Samantha smiled. Sometimes Mary seemed to act like a mother, but most of the time they were close like sisters. Either way, it felt good to have someone who loved you.
"Yes, of course. It's all ready. I sleep with it every night," she said sarcastically.
"Maybe you ought to think about moving in with us. I don't like the idea of you being God knows where when things get bad."
They'd had this discussion before. "Mary, I'm nineteen. I want to sow some wild oats. I want to see the world before it turns to crap. I want to go to college and date boys and stay out late."
Mary looked at Victor. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "You're on your own."
"And besides, if things get bad, I'll find a way to get out to your place. Or maybe I'll just go to the rez. I'll call myself Twin Feathers and I'll ride ponies and they'll make me chief. Maybe the Indians will finally get the land back."
They both smiled at her. "And you two are welcome to join us and be honorary Indians. I'll call Vic 'Mighty Warrior' and Mary will be ‘Squaw Who Brings Lunch.' We'll live primitive lives, hunting and fishing. Zack and Zoe will grow up on the land, but we'll be happy like a family should be."
For just a moment, Mary thought that didn't sound so bad.
Dymond Calls Fallon “Mister”
As soon as they left the trail and entered the woods, the peeing girl stopped crying. Fallon knew she was following him because he could hear her footsteps behind him. She didn't say a word as they walked uphill.
When they got to the clearing, he heard her stop right at the edge - she'd seen his home. He put his gear away under the Airstream and went inside to get a pot and some water. When he returned, she hadn't moved.
"You hungry?" he asked. She looked thin, her knees were bony.
She thought for a second and then answered simply, "Yes."
Fallon put dried wood in the grill and lit it. He went to work cleaning the crappie. Each would provide two small fillets. He'd done this many times before, so he was good at it.
"You like your fish grilled or fried?"
This time the delay lasted longer. It was as if she was searching her memory. Finally, she said, "I don't know."
He shrugged and went inside to get a pan and oil and flour. Normally, he would just toss the fillets on the grill, but for the first time in years, he had a guest to dinner. He would fry this fish - it was his favorite method. Inside, he realized that God was back, studying the events down below intently.
When Fallon first returned, he didn't see her. She had moved to the uphill
"Well, that sucks," said Samantha. "Why keep going after airports, Vic?" She finished her sandwich and was eyeing the uneaten half of Mary's. Mary slid it over to her and smiled.
"Because the ability to go just about anywhere we want, just about anytime we want is a symbol of our civilization. It's a symbol of our freedom. They want that to crumble."
Mary took Samantha's hand and squeezed it. "How close are we, Vic - to when the shit hits the fan?"
"Closer today than yesterday." He face showed his certainty. "But it's probably a year or two or three away. Things will get worse though. You can feel that. It's like it's in the air."
They knew what he meant. The slow decline of their civilization was accelerating. Sooner or later, things would hit a tipping point and all hell would break loose. Everyone could feel something was just not right.
Mary looked Samantha directly in the eye, "You have your bug out bag all ready, right?"
Samantha smiled. Sometimes Mary seemed to act like a mother, but most of the time they were close like sisters. Either way, it felt good to have someone who loved you.
"Yes, of course. It's all ready. I sleep with it every night," she said sarcastically.
"Maybe you ought to think about moving in with us. I don't like the idea of you being God knows where when things get bad."
They'd had this discussion before. "Mary, I'm nineteen. I want to sow some wild oats. I want to see the world before it turns to crap. I want to go to college and date boys and stay out late."
Mary looked at Victor. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "You're on your own."
"And besides, if things get bad, I'll find a way to get out to your place. Or maybe I'll just go to the rez. I'll call myself Twin Feathers and I'll ride ponies and they'll make me chief. Maybe the Indians will finally get the land back."
They both smiled at her. "And you two are welcome to join us and be honorary Indians. I'll call Vic 'Mighty Warrior' and Mary will be ‘Squaw Who Brings Lunch.' We'll live primitive lives, hunting and fishing. Zack and Zoe will grow up on the land, but we'll be happy like a family should be."
For just a moment, Mary thought that didn't sound so bad.
Dymond Calls Fallon “Mister”
As soon as they left the trail and entered the woods, the peeing girl stopped crying. Fallon knew she was following him because he could hear her footsteps behind him. She didn't say a word as they walked uphill.
When they got to the clearing, he heard her stop right at the edge - she'd seen his home. He put his gear away under the Airstream and went inside to get a pot and some water. When he returned, she hadn't moved.
"You hungry?" he asked. She looked thin, her knees were bony.
She thought for a second and then answered simply, "Yes."
Fallon put dried wood in the grill and lit it. He went to work cleaning the crappie. Each would provide two small fillets. He'd done this many times before, so he was good at it.
"You like your fish grilled or fried?"
This time the delay lasted longer. It was as if she was searching her memory. Finally, she said, "I don't know."
He shrugged and went inside to get a pan and oil and flour. Normally, he would just toss the fillets on the grill, but for the first time in years, he had a guest to dinner. He would fry this fish - it was his favorite method. Inside, he realized that God was back, studying the events down below intently.
When Fallon first returned, he didn't see her. She had moved to the uphill
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