My Father,

whod killed many men in the Slobbovian War, was angry the
day Ricky Blair came to live in the rock house up on the ridge.
He was mad because Id been suspended from kindergarten
for hitting a boy whod called me Feather Fingers. Dad said
my suspension would stand against him in court, where my
Gommi was claiming he was an unfit father and unable to deal
with my special needs.
Couldnt you have just decked him and been done with
it? Dad asked. Why did you keep hitting him when he was
down?
I dont know why I kept hitting the boy. I dont know
why I do any of the weird shit Im going to tell you about.
Maybe Im just made wrong, flawed and fucked up beyond
repair. Thats what the school psychologist thinks. She says I
have zero social skills and a complete lack of empathy for
others. While I dont think thats completely accurate, it is true

that some people get on my nerves so bad that I wish I could

make them disappear.
And it turns out Im a total sex fiend. Im talking really
nasty, dirty stuff. Im not proud of this, but when we get to that
part of the story I wont lie about it either because theres only
one thing I hate worse than a liar and thats a thief.
I had a mother too Gommi and Ommis daughter but
Jesus took her home the day I was born.
+
My name is Joshua White and you mayve heard of me
because Im kind of famous, due to a documentary that started
out being about my extended familys uncanny musical
abilities, but ended up being about how we are a bunch of
violent, inbred hillbillies. That movie, which showed me
dancing with my feathers, ruined my life if you want to know
the truth. It made me look like a freak, which I guess I am. But
everyone doesnt have the right to know it if I dont want to
tell them. Which I dont.
So I was five years old and hanging out at the Bluegrass
Bar and Brew Thru - which my Dad had recently inherited when Hank Goins came tearing into the gravel parking lot and
kept right on rolling up the dirt lane that led to the old rock
house that had been shut up since my Grandpa Dads dad
died.
Keep an eye on things, Dad told the regulars at the bar.
He stuck his .45 in his belt and we headed out the door!
We jumped on Dads bike and roared up the hill right
after that truck, Grandpas pups, Devil and Psycho, running
beside us, that big twin V rumbling between our legs. We
pulled into Grandpas yard and the kitchen door was standing
open and that Ford 4x4 was rammed into the multi-flora rose
under an oak tree like Hank was trying to hide it from God
Himself.
Git em, Psych! Hup Devil! Dad said, pulling his .45
and switching the safety off. Dad hated Hank Goins with a
red-hot passion, even though they were second cousins and
had once been very close.
The dogs were of a vicious local breed and they were
thirsty for blood when all of a sudden this little girl popped out
of Grandpas house wearing nothing but a pair of trainer pants.

She was a tiny thing with a mop of dark hair and crazy green
eyes.
Horsies! she squealed as the dogs charged her.
Whoa, Devil! Dad shouted. Stay, Psycho!
But it was too late. Those dogs were on her like flies on
shit.
+
Then Hank Goins and this beautiful woman came to the
door and the woman tried to grab the little girl but Psycho
snarled and Devil snapped and Hank pulled her back before
she lost an arm.
The dogs were using the little girl like a treat, sniffing
her butt and licking her belly where some purple juice had
dribbled from her mouth. And the little girl loved it, cackling
like a baby witch.
Hank picked the child up and she pounded his face with
her fists. Wide horsies! she screamed. I wanna wide
horsies!
You bastard, Dad said, showing his gun. Didnt I
swear to kill you if you bothered me again?
Can we have this conversation inside? Hank said,
looking up at the sky. Besides being a legendary country
singer, Hank was a member of the Resistance and thought the
government was watching him with drones.
+
I couldnt take my eyes off the woman. She was dark
and exotic with straight black hair and almond shaped eyes.
And she had high cheek bones and great lips.
Theyre after her, Hank said. We need to relocate the
operation.
Hank Goins was a White, Goins being a very common
White name. Most Whites arent even named White see, but
everyone still knows theyre Whites. And Whites arent
exactly white either, if you want to know the truth.
Anthropolgists call us a tri-racial isolate. We dont call
ourselves that, but others do.
And you come to me? Dad said. After what you did,
the two of you come to me?

Jack, please, the woman said. Weve been on the run

for weeks and I just need a place to catch my breath until I can
figure out our next move. Thats all Im asking.
Dad looked at the woman and it was like he was melting
before my eyes. What did they do? Dad asked, decocking
the pistol and laying it on the table. What did they do this
time?
Killed our cat, she said. Vandalized my car. Then
someone shot through the window and did this. The woman
took out her phone, found a picture, and handed it to Dad.
Dad drew back from the image, then looked at the little
girl trying to pull herself up on Psychos back.
Is she okay? Dad asked.
No, the woman said. Shes not okay. Its like she goes
off somewhere in her mind and She started to tear up.
Dad knelt and parted the hair on the side of the girls
head, finding the place where the bullet had grazed her.
You sure do have a head of hair, Dad said. He looked
up at the woman. What do you call her?
Erica, the woman said. Erica Blair. Im Elizabeth
Blair now. Weve gone completely underground. We have
birth certificates and social security numbers and everything.
Dad continued to stroke the little girls head. You dont
look like an Erica to me, he said softly. You look like a
Ricky.
Wicky, the little girl repeated, in the same soft tone.
Dad looked up at the woman. This is the last place you
should be, he said. The movie. The trial of the Wells boy.
Its all put a lot of attention on this neck of the woods.
The woman bit her lower lip and I looked at Dad, hoping
with all my heart that he would let her stay. For a moment is
was so quite. Dad looked at the woman and it was like all the
air had left the room.
Ah, hell, he said finally. Josh,show Ricky Granpas
library while the adults talk.
+
Thats where Grandpa died, I said, nodding to the bed.
He couldnt climb stairs so Dad brought his bed down here
close to the fireplace because he was always cold. An see all
the books? My Dads mom was a college professor from

Athens who came here to discover the awful secret of the

original Whites and how they came to be in Adams County
when it was a wilderness full of wild Indians, wolves and
bears. Then she fell in love with my Grandpa and stayed.
Bears! Ricky said, turning her fingers into claws.
Grrrrrr!
I pointed to a fire stained stone down at the foot of the
fireplace engraved with the date Jan. 2 1825 and the symbol +.
Thats the mark of the ghost, I said. This place is full
of ghosts. They come flying up out of the gorge at night,
screaming and shrieking.
Ghos? she asked.
Yeah, I said. You wanna see something really secret
and forbidden?
I don know, she said.
Close your eyes, I said.
I hid feathers everywhere. I hid them in my bedroom
down in the bar, and in the barn, and even out in the woods
and down by the river. Gommi and Ommi let me shake
feathers out in the open when I lived with them. They let me
dance with them in church and no one had a problem with it
until the documentary came out. Then Dad said I had to stop
shaking the feathers because it was embarrassing. So now I
hid them because I couldnt stop shaking them anymore than I
could stop breathing. If I didnt shake the feathers the static in
my head would just build and build. Shaking the feathers was
the only thing that cleared the static out.
I pulled a chicken feather from beneath the old sofa
cushion.
This is a sickle feather from a Rhode Island Red
rooster, I said. Its the best kind of feather for shaking
because the rachis is flaccid at the tip. See, you dance and
shake it and it draws a story out of you like a little show that
plays in your head. See how the colors change in the light?
Thats called iridescence. This is a display feather, see. It has
no flight purpose. The rooster uses it to attract hens. Watch.
Ill tear the vane, I said, separating the barbs. Now watch it
heal itself. I ran my finger up the feather and made it whole
again.
Her green eyes grew. Mashic! she said.

Its barbules and hooklets, I said. I can let you hold it

if you promise to be careful. Promise?
Ricky nodded solemnly.
I handed her the feather and her green eyes glowed.
Slowly, reverently, she ran her fingers over the vane, and
as she did, I could hear the skin of her fingers play the note of
every single barb. The sound was barely perceptible, but it
was there. And it was like it almost made sense, like it was
music or something. It was barely there at all, but it was like
nothing Id ever heard.
I watched her fingers move over the feather for what
seemed like hours. Then I looked up and saw that she was
watching me watch, smiling.
A tiny trill came from the back of her throat. I had to
lean forward to hear it and when I did I picked up that strange
smell. I wont say it smelled good, but there was something
stirring in the mix that made me interested. And there was that
barely audible trill. It was a sound some newly hatched
humming bird might make and it prickled my brain and set my
spine vibrating like a tuning fork.
She slid her finger slowly up and down the quill and the
feather moaned like a trombone, accompanied by a constant
purr from the back of her throat that rose and fell in
accordance to some direction the plumage transmitted to her
fingers, her skin and throat singing to each other in sounds so
small that I wondered if they were really sounds at all.
I leaned closer to hear her better, to smell her better. A
single hair from her head touched my cheek crack! - and a
volt of electricity snapped between us.
The spell was broken and Ricky dropped the feather like
a broken toy she was tired of playing with.
Horsies hab hats! she said, pointing to the heads
mounted on the wall.
I hid the feather under the sofa cushion and looked up at
the cobwebs dripping from the antlers.
Those are deer, I said. And Psycho and Devil are
pitbull dogs.
She looked at the dogs that had followed us into the
room and shook her head. Horsies, she confirmed.
Watch this, I said.

I began to climb the rock chimney. I could make it all the

way to the ceiling if I wanted to, but I stopped at the mantel,
stepping out on the slab of oak, careful to avoid Grandpas
things hair tonic, a jagged fragment of ancient Adena
potsherd, and a cane - all laid out there just as hed left them
before he died.
Follow if you dare, I said.
And up she came, wedging her fat little fingers and
grubby little toes in between the rocks, slowly lifting herself
until she stepped out onto the mantel.
Now we jump on the bed, I said.
I knew I could do it. Id done it before. I also knew
Ricky couldnt make the leap and it was cruel of me to suggest
she try.
Jumpy! she said, hopping on the edge of the mantel
like it was a diving board.
And suddenly we were falling. Me. Ricky. That slab of
oak. And all of Grandpas things. And as we were falling I
locked eyes with Ricky and felt like we had done this all
before a long, long time ago.
+
When I woke up, I was in the emergency room because
Id landed on the potsherd and cut the side of my chest so
badly that I needed seventeen stitches.
+
While I was suspended from kindergarten, Dad and I
went up to the rock house every day and let Wayne and
Dwayne and Dads girlfriend Brenda run breakfast at the
Bluegrass. Whatever problem Dad had had with Liz was now
forgotten and the two became thick as thieves. This
relationship, I realized, was what had occupied him during
those years Id lived with Gommi and Ommi. But I didnt
resent Liz at all. In fact, she was the first woman I really loved
in that special way. I mean, I loved Ommi too. But I didnt
want to see her naked.
Dad put new locks on the doors of the old house and
caulked around the windows, and put security dowels in all the
windows, and installed an alarm system, and ran another
electrical line up from the barn so Liz could start her
Resistance operation again. And every morning Ricky would

be waiting for us at the top of the hill with Psycho and Devil,
who had reverted back to living at the rock house now that Liz
and Ricky were there.
Dosh is here! Dosh is here! Mummy, mummy! Dosh is
here! Ricky would yell. And shed jump around fluttering her
hands and the dogs would catch the excitement and run around
her in circles barking.
Looks like you have a buddy, Dad said.
She just likes my cut, I said.
It was true. She was fascinated with the wound on my
side and when no one was around, she would lift my shirt and
press her dirty little fingers on the sutures and, though it kind
of hurt, I could hear that little trill in the back of her throat like
a tiny motor running and I could smell the shampoo Liz put on
her hair, which was different that anything we had down at the
Bluegrass.
The thing was, I was really proud of the cut. So that
wound was something Ricky and I had in common. We both
thought it was cool and we liked watching it heal.
+
One day we were taking a break from working on the
house and were going to hike through the gorge and up to
Serpent Mound since Liz had never been to either of those
places.
Nake! Nake! Nake! Ricky said, rolling a blob of
clay into a string on the kitchen floor. Wook at my nake,
Dosh.
She wants you to look at her snake, Joshua, Liz said,
filling a backpack with stuff we were going to eat up on the
promontory. I told her about Serpent Mound so shes been
making snakes all morning.
Dad slipped on the backpack and we followed the dirt
road along the ridge to the prehistoric earthwork called Fort
Hill, where the White Family Cemetery was, and Ricky said,
wook! pointing to the grave of the great Kitty White,
country star extraordinaire, which was impossible to miss
because of the life-sized statue of Kitty that Hank Goins had
erected as her gravestone. The statue was really a piece of
work with Kitty singing into a microphone and her hair flying,

though souvenir hunters had already started chipping the stone

around the base.
So we went over to visit my Grandpas grave, which was
still marked by tender grass. He was buried between his two
wives, Leah, who was the mother of Kitty, and Rachael, who
was a genetic historian and the mother of my dad.
Come back here, Dad said, pushing the crabapple
branches back to expose a hole in the cemetery fence. We
followed him down a faint path that deer had made.
Its nothing to write home about, Dad said. I mean
you wouldnt know it was the oldest known Adena burial
mound in North America unless you knew it. But the
Hopewell Indians who built Fort Hill recognized it and made
it the centerpiece of the enclosure. It was ancient at the time of
the Hopewell, see. And somehow, the proto-Whites knew it
was special and confiscated it for their own use. He bent over
and searched through the Swedish ivy.
People planted these invasive species in the cemetery
and now theyve spread out over the whole ridge, he
muttered, searching through the vines. My mom ran a bunch
of DNA probes on these graves and here we go!
Hidden in the ivy was a metal tag attached to steel stake.
This is the oldest known white grave in Adams County.
Next to it is the oldest known Negro grave. Dad found the
tag. And these are graves of Christianized Native Americans.
Its the oldest part of the White Family Cemetery and it was
forgotten until the 1960s when newly dug graves started
turning up old bones. Thats when they realized the cemetery
overlapped with an older cemetery, which included an ancient
Indian burial mound. My mother first came here as a graduate
student.to research the old graves. Then she met my father and
started doing research on him.
Liz watched my dad clear the vines away from the tags
marking the graves. Who were they? she asked.
Dad shrugged. Colonial criminals escaping the
hangmans noose. Runaway slaves. The last fragments of
destroyed Indian tribes. They ran into the wilderness, found
each other, and somehow managed to survive.

Liz shook her head in amazement. They did more than

survive. They started a family. Why wasnt any of this in the
documentary?
My ears buzzed at the word. The movie had just been
released, timed to coincide with the sentencing of a distant
relative of mine who had nearly killing the morbidly obese
director.
That documentary Dad started, then thought again,
glancing at me. After what happened with D.B. and his
words trailed off.
We walked back through the cemetery and I looked over
to the far corner at my moms grave. Gommi and Ommi told
me she was in heaven and I had to be saved so as to see her
again. But Dad said she was in the ground and sometimes I
thought of her that way and how terrible that must be. In bed,
Id even pull the covers over my head and imagine what it was
like to be smothered in a casket with no air until I couldnt
stand it and threw the covers off. Then Id feel awful because I
knew my mom couldnt throw the covers off and because she
was down there drowning in the dirt because of me.
Anyway, thats where my mom is buried. Over in the far
corner with the Separatists. And I always look at her grave
whenever I pass.
Beyond the cemetery, the dirt road became a foot path
and dipped down to the river that flowed through the gorge. It
was a different world in the gorge and Dad told Liz all about
the part it played in the White family history, both those
stories that were credible and those that almost had to be lies.
Wook at my bud, Ricky said.
Drop it, Liz said.
Ricky dropped the dead sparrow and Liz took a bottle of
hand sanitizer from the side pocket of the backpack Dad was
carrying. I watched her work the gel between Rickys fingers.
Suddenly, I just wanted to run as far away as I could. I
needed to be as alone as possible. Its hard for me to explain.
Its part of my weirdness. So I took off.
Wait, Dosh, wait! Ricky yelled.
I looked back and saw Ricky coming after me, her little
legs pumping like pistons. But Dad scooped her up and I ran
on down the trail into the gorge.

10

+
The gorge was filled with shadows because of all the
caves and cliffs and rock overhangs. A lot of people were
afraid to go there but for me it was always a playground.
The place was crazy though. Scientists called it a cryptodisturbance area because 200 million years ago some
mysterious blast blew out big chunks of the earths crust that
are there to this day, all stratified with layers of compacted silt
and sea shells and coral from the time the place was a shallow
sea.
Then the ice age came and the glacier stopped right at
the edge of the disturbance. If the glacier had gone another
hundred yards, it would have scraped the place off the face of
the earth and it would just be part of the Till Plain that
stretches up to the Great Lakes and grows all that corn. But
the glacier stopped right there like it was afraid to go any
further and over thousands of years the melting ice carved the
gorge. Then somebody long before Columbus sailed built
the vast, walled enclosure of Fort Hill on the north rim of the
disturbance. Then someone built the serpent on the
promontory, perpetually offering the orb it held in its mouth to
the sun and the stars.
It was a great place to grow up. It was a great place for
the imagination.
So I trotted through the gorge, past the Cleft and David
Davis cave, until I came to the rock called the Altar Stone and
I sat there and waited until Dad and Liz came along with
Ricky up on Dads shoulders.
Hi, Dosh! she called and waved like we hadnt seen
each other in years. She was very pleased with herself for
being on Dads shoulders.
We climbed the promontory and came out of the trees
and the serpent was sprawled out so big and long that it was
impossible to see the whole thing. So we walked over to the
observation tower next to the museum and climbed to the top
and looked out over the earthwork, the fields, and the forest
falling off toward the Ohio River to the south. Under a cedar
tree, a couple of chubby guys in robes beat drums and chanted.

11

Its incredible, Elizabeth said. Its just breathtakingly

incredible. And you could tell she wasnt just saying it. She
really saw that the place was special.
Dad nodded. Think about where we are, he said.
Were on the edge of Appalachia looking out over the
American Mid-West.
We stood there smelling the alfalfa and watching
shadows of clouds sweep over cornfields and I knew we were
all of one mind about what lay before us.
+
Dad helped Liz spread a blanket out under a walnut tree
over by the serpents coils. I had to pee so I climbed up the
snakes body and slipped down over the other side.
Nake!
Ricky had followed me and was standing on the crest of
the serpents biggest coil. I turned away and when I did I saw
one of the drum beaters charging in our direction.
What the hell do you think youre doing? he yelled,
grabbing the stringy hair on the side of his bald head.
Thats the thing about the serpent. Some people thought
it was sacred. It didnt matter if they worshipped Vishnu or the
Manitou, they were able to project their beliefs onto the
mound.
Im taking you to the ranger! the guy screamed.
Come on! Both of you!
Run, Ricky! I yelled. Run!
And over the coils we went.
Whats going on? Dad asked, lying on the blanket.
Whats the commotion?
He didnt wait long to find out. The drumbeater came
stomping around the serpents tail, stopping dead in his tracks
when he got a load of Dad.
It probably wasnt Dad so much as Dads tattoo.
It was a snake, Dads tat. On his right hand was the
snakes head, its fangs bared, its tongue flicking out to the last
knuckle of his middle finger. Then the scaly body coiled
around his arm, disappeared under the sleeve of his black tshirt, and rose again on his throat where the tattoo had its own
tattoo: Molon Labe. From there, the snake ran down his left

12

arm, ending in a rattle that tapered out onto the middle finger
of his left hand.
The drummer swallowed hard. This is a U.N. Heritage
Site, he squeaked. Youre not allowed to smoke here.
This look came over Dads face. Cold and analytical.
Dispassionate in its acceptance that violence is often the price
of liberty. Id seen that look before when he was getting ready
to throw someone out of the Bluegrass. Dad had been a sniper
in the Slobbovian War and I always imagined that same look
was on his much younger face when he was pulling the trigger
on some Slobb.
Dad pinched off the lit end of his cigar and rose to his
feet. He was 63 and pumped iron every day.
Stay away, the drummer cautioned, stepping back.
Im warning you!
But you came to me, Dad said. You chase my
children then warn me to stay away?
Im reporting you to the ranger! the drummer said,
then fled.
Lets go, Liz said, packing up the food.
Im not going anywhere, Dad said. You cant let
twerpy little assholes bully you. That only encourages them to
do it again.
Liz shook her head. I cant have my ID checked. I cant
take that risk! She was close to panic.
Dad turned to me. Take them down to the gorge and
wait at the Cleft. Ill be along soon.
+
The school said I could come back to kindergarten but
had to be in the Behavioral Disabilities Unit because they said
I had Aspergers syndrome, ADHD, ADD, and severe
Oppositional Defiance Disorder (ODD).
Josh doesnt have a learning disorder, Liz said through
the service window the morning I was going back to school.
She and Dad were working breakfast at the Bluegrass because
Brenda had quit. She had also quit being Dads girlfriend,
which was fine with me because shed always got on my
nerves.
Dad scooped some eggs from the grill with his spatula,
slipped them on a plate, and passed them through the window.

13

Ricky and I were sitting on stools in the kitchen eating strips

of bacon. I was dressed for school but Ricky was still in her
jammies.
Liz delivered the food to a table and came back to the
window. Shed changed her appearance completely. She still
looked damn good, but she looked like a different person.
Oppositional Defiance Disorder is a hoax, she said. Its
used to squash the individualism of boys and convince them
theyre disabled and should accept an authoritarian system that
knows whats best for them.
What am I supposed to do then? Dad asked. Send
him to the Separatist School where hell learn that the universe
was created in six days six thousand years ago? Thats what
his grandparents want.
That would be better than turning him over to leftist
union members who hold your culture in contempt, Liz said.
After thirteen years of public school, Joshs head will be full
of socialist bullshit and he wont know how to divide fractions
or multiply decimals without a calculator. If hes lucky, hell
have the reading skills of an average sixth grader circa 1960.
And theyll kill his masculinity and teach him that being a
homosexual is fine, maybe even preferable. Thats what they
do to boys in public schools, Jackson. They try to feminize
them. Sometimes it works and they neutralize the masculine
attributes. Other times they succeed in producing womenhating sociopaths who rape and murder and are then held up as
examples of why more feminization is needed.
You still havent told me what Im supposed to do,
Dad said.
Give him to me, said Liz. Im a teacher, remember?
Oh, my little heart leapt! Yes! Yes! Give me to Liz!
+
Officially, Dad homeschooled me, but every morning Id
walk up the hill to the rock house and Ricky would be waiting
for me with Psycho and Devil.
Dosh is here! Mummy, Mummy, Dosh is here! And
shed run around flapping her hands.
School with Liz was nothing like public school where
we sat in rows. Instead, we did things. We dug a hole out in
the woods with Grandpas shovels for instance. All the dirt and

14

rocks we dug up went into a scale model of the Fort Hill

earthworks that surrounded us, complete with all the little
gateways the actual fort had. I thought the project was about
the neatest thing Id ever done and as we dug Liz taught us all
about roots, and ants, and grubs, and worms, and rocks, and
spiders, and anything else we found. And everything we found
was written up on index cards and became vocabulary words
that we learned to read and write by tracing over the letters
after we were worn out from digging.
And after the model fort was made we spread a mosquito
net over the whole thing and made a Bug Town. Then we
found a terrapin that Ricky named Tuttle who lived in Bug
Town and kept the population in check. Wed find a new bug
and go to our bug book and find a picture of it and then Liz
would read us about the bug. Then wed put the bug in Bug
Town and see if Tuttle would eat it. We built rivers in Bug
Town and put grapes and slices of banana and pieces of bread
and every morning we would check to see how things had
changed.
Then wed race to the White Cemetery and of course Id
always win, but Liz would race with Ricky, who always came
in first in the girls division, though Liz really made her work
for it.
Once we were at the graveyard, wed go to my mothers
grave in the far corner and Id sit with my back to my moms
tombstone and Liz and Ricky would sit against Hendrix and
Belva Ziesbergers stones and wed take all of our school stuff
out of the backpacks and get it organized.
Liz didnt take us to the graveyard to be morbid or
anything. It was just that Dad kept the place mowed so we
could sit on the grass and not get eaten alive by chiggers. And
it was up on the ridge so the breeze kept the mosquitoes away.
Besides, I liked being close to my mother and Liz somehow
knew that. Ommi told me my mom had been really smart and I
wanted her to know I was smart too and working on getting
smarter. I wanted her to know that there really wasnt anything
wrong with me like people said.
So we would sit against the tombstones and Liz would
read books to us. Then wed talk about the books.

15

But there were other things going on. Strange things

between Ricky and me.
+
One day Liz was reading to us and Ricky was sitting
across from me and she carefully laid her backpack out like
she was starting some elaborate show. It was a pink backpack
with a unicorn on it and she watched me as she slowly pulled a
brush from the backpack and began running it through her
hair. It was an early fall day with the breeze moving the
yellow and red leaves around oak and maple - so that the sun
was dappled as it splashed on Rickys hair, and on her brown
skin, and into her green eyes. She combed her hair out and let
it fall from the brush, strand by strand, most dark brown,
some auburn, a few strands like threads of new copper. And
with each brush stroke, the sound of the bristles moving
through her hair grew louder and louder whooshwhoosh
until it drowned out the sound of the birds, the breeze, Lizs
voice, and all the rest of the world.
Whoosh whooshwhoosh
Ricky watched me with those green eyes and that cruel
little smile curling on her lips. She knew what she was doing.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Joshua? Liz said. Ricky?
I knew Liz was worried. I knew she thought there really
was something different about Ricky and me. And it turned
out to be true. And the thing about the truth is that it is almost
never what you want it to be. But you have to deal with it
because its still the truth.
+
The Bluegrass Bar and Brew Thru was just part of Dads
operation. He also kept bees. And he ran a campground in the
field between the bar and the river, which really came to life
when the Leaf Festival rolled around in October.
The official activity was down in Bainbridge, where the
parade was held and the Leaf Queens were crowned, but the
real action was at the Bluegrass.
We had motorcycle hill climbs, and canoe races, and
bands playing all day and all night. It was just a big week-long
party with clubs riding in from all over, and bow hunters

16

bringing deer in from the forest, and Separatist craftsmen

selling their wares.
So it came to pass one Saturday afternoon during the
festival that Dad, Ricky and I were making our rounds through
the campground, driving the pickup real slow while Dwayne
and Wayne walked alongside throwing in bags of garbage
when this guy and girl came up and complained about
someone acting creepy.
Id smack him myself, the guy said, but hes just a
kid.
We knew right away it was Peepers Potok.
Peepers lived down the holler in a trailer with his mom
and often rode his bike up and down the road waiting for Liz
and Ricky to walk down from the ridge so he could ride
behind them so close that his front tire would be just inches
from their legs. I aint a-touchin yew, hed say when Liz
asked him to back off.
Whats he doing? Dad asked.
Hes hanging around the womens outhouse, the girl
said. He looks through the cracks between the boards and
watches us.
We looked over and Peepers Potok was leaning against
the latrine. He was eleven and already very obese and
unattractive.
Ill take care of it, Dad said. So we got out of the truck
and walked over to Peepers.
You need to go home, Dad told him.
Lick my butt, Peepers said. Mom said as long as I
dont touch no one there aint nothin you can do. And she said
you killed your mother when you came out, he said, looking
at me. She said you ripped her pussy up and killed her
because youre some kind of freak.
+
It was a glancing blow I landed on Peepers chin, not the
knockout punch I wanted. But the really important thing was
that Peepers Potok twice my age and probably four times my
weight slugged me right back in the face with all his might.
Peepers punch put my world into a spin. My ears went
deaf, my sight constricted, and for a moment I was out on my

17

feet. Then I brought myself back and felt like crying because I
was hurt and because of what Peepers said about my mother.
Then I thought about the things Ommi had taught me
from the Bible, and the things Liz taught me from her books.
Things like David going up against Goliath. Or Leonidas
standing his ground at Thermopylae. Or Columbus sailing into
the Great Unknown. And I realized all of those stories taught
the same lesson: you were remembered for courage or you
werent remembered at all.
I was surrounded by people who were Whites, or knew
about the Whites and wished they were Whites. And suddenly
I felt the heavy burden of a great responsibility. And it wasnt
just the responsibility of toughing it out for all those people
watching. It was the responsibility of keeping faith with all
those dead Whites up on the ridge who never gave up. Who
never quit. Who always kept fighting when everyone was
against them.
And it was at that point that I knew I was one of them
because I was still standing. I knew I was with them because I
could take a punch and I was suddenly filled with such joy,
such excitement, such exhilaration. I could take a punch!
No Dad! I yelled. He had Peepers by the collar and
was dragging him away. Leave him to me!
Dad looked over his shoulder, considered for a moment,
then let Peepers go.
Then Ricky screamed, high pitched like a bird of prey,
Git im, Dosh! Git im!
I banged at Peepers gut with my fists. And when he
covered his gut I jumped and swung at his head. He got me in
a bear hug and took me to the ground, but I caught his lip
between my teeth and bit down until I felt the warm gush of
blood in my mouth. Peeper tried to escape but I hung on,
thrashing like a pit bull until a chunk of meat the size of a
bumblebee came away in my mouth.
Peepers jumped up screaming, tears flowing down his
face, blooding dribbling from his chin. I was up with him,
spitting the meat in his face, pounding at his sides, swinging
into his head, kicking his shins. He tried to run but I grabbed
the waist band of his sweat pants and yanked them down
below his knees.

18

Peepers fell with a thud.

Then I was in the air, coming down on his back with
both knees, hammering the back of his head with everything I
had.
Okay, Dad said, pulling me off of Peepers. Hes had
enough.
Peepers ran home and Dwayne put me on his shoulder
and carried me into the bar where everyone decided my
victory was a good reason to start drinking early. So everyone
was feeling pretty good when Deputy Collins shows up.
Michelle Potok is pressing charges, he told Dad. She
is claiming her son was sexually assaulted.
Some of the campers who didnt know the score started
talking trash to Collins but Dwayne and Wayne said to shut
up. Collins wasnt there to make an arrest. He was there to
make a report. As usual, Dad and the deputy went outside and
the problem was quietly resolved. It wasnt just that Collins
was a White and a secret member of the Resistance. It was that
he was fair and had enough common sense not to jump
through a hoop just because a lowlife like Michelle Potok held
it up.
Collins drove away, Dad came back into the bar, and
everyone cheered like another victory had been won,
justifying another round of drinks.
Strangers kept coming up to me, patting me on the back
and explaining their connection to the Whites and I tried to
smile and look them in the eye and said pleased to meet you
just like Ommi had taught me.
Ricky was on a stool, drawing a picture. I knew that
barely audible purr was vibrating deep in her throat as she
pushed the crayons over the paper, the pitch varying according
to the color of the crayons and the action the lines portrayed.
More than anything, I wanted to break from the crowd and go
listen, not because I wanted to be with Ricky I couldnt
stand her but because I was fascinated with that still, small
voice that came from inside of her.
My mommas cousin was your grandpas first wifes
half- sister, some stranger told me.
Pleased to meet you, I said, and offered my hand.

19

Thats when Gommi walked into to the bar to take me to

the farm for the weekend.
Id forgotten about going to the farm. I glanced over at
Ricky and she stuck her lower lip out, grabbed her paper and
crayons, and marched off to the kitchen. She was so jealous
that I had a Gommi and Ommi.
What happened to your eye? Gommi asked.
Your grandson just beat the shit out of some fat little
prick about ten times his size! Dwayne White said.
Dad shot Dwayne a look. The matter of my custody had
been settled out of court but Dad still didnt want to
antagonize Gommi, who surveyed the antics of the bar patrons
with a critical eye.
My grandson, he said, shaking his head in disgust,
and that little girl who just ran off... Raising them in such an
environment. Come on, Josh. Therere brownies in the
truck.
Ommi baked all day on Saturdays because the
congregation met in the barn on Sunday and whenever Gommi
came to pick me up at the bar he always had some snack to
hold me over until we got to the farm.
So I climbed in the truck and had a brownie that was still
warm.
Is that brownie good? Gommi asked.
I nodded. It was a fudge brownie with wild walnuts in it.
We drove through the autumnal tunnel of Bell Hollow
Road, the oaks and maples of Pike State Forest overarching us
from either side.
Whyd you fight that boy?
He said something about Mom.
What did he say?
I wont repeat it. He wont either. Not around me
leastways.
He bigger than you?
Hes Peepers Potok.
I dont know who that is.
Hes eleven.
An you whooped him?
I shrugged. He ran away crying.

20

Gommi drove on without saying anything for a while.

Then he pulled me into his side.
Youre a good boy, Joshua White, he said, and I
couldnt be prouder of you.
+
Ommi was in the kitchen making apple pancakes and
when she saw my black eye she wanted to doctor me but
Gommi said it would be a waste of time. Besides, Gommi
said. He wants to show it off tomorrow. Which was exactly
right.
Staying with Gommi and Ommi was like traveling back
in time. They didnt have a television or a computer or cell
phones and the only radio station they listened to broadcasted
out of Maysville Kentucky and usually featured some gasping
preacher. Currently the Singing Convention of the Air was
on featuring the Gospel Baseltons. So I watched Ommi bake
until I couldnt take the Baseltons anymore and went out to the
barn to see what Gommi was up to. He had the Baseltons on
there too but he was getting ready to kill a chicken so that was
something at least. He already had the kettle of water on the
wood burning stove.
Lets pick a likely candidate, he said, taking the blood
stained duffel bag from the nail it hung on.
We went to the coop and looked at the chickens.
I see the one, I said, pointing at a pretty good sized
fryer.
Go get im, Gommi said.
I herded the chicken into the corner, approaching slow,
then fast, snagging the chickens wing with my left hand as he
tried to rush around me. I grabbed the chickens head with my
right hand and gave him a hard sling like I was throwing a
fast-pitch softball, except I didnt let go. I felt the birds spine
snap in my hand.
Gommi held the bag open and I dumped the flopping
fowl in. Its funny how lively they get after theyre dead,
Gommi said. He said this every time we killed a chicken.
When the bird was still, we dipped him in the boiling
water and plucked him while he was still hot. Then, under
Gommis watchful eye, and using his pocketknife, I cut the
craw out. Then the tail, careful not to slice the intestine. I

21

made the incision under the breast and reached into the bird
and pulled out the innards, saving the heart, the gizzard and
the liver. We cleaned the chicken out with a garden hose, put
the edible organs back inside and took him into Ommi, who
already had a pot of cold saltwater for soaking.
Were gonna get a squirrel, Gommi said. So he got his
shotgun and gave me the .22 and we walked down to the
creek.
You like living with your dad? Gommi asked.
Yeah, I said, but I like coming here too.
We sat down under the same big beech tree we always
sat under, Gommi at the twelve oclock position facing a
shagbark hickory, me at three. Only when we were seated
could I insert the magazine into the .22 and chamber a round.
Then we stopped talking as that would scare the squirrels
away. And we sat. And we sat. Sitting like that wasnt a
problem for Gommi. He could sit all day in the woods. But it
was hell for me.
My mind was a million miles away when Gommi touch
my elbow with his. I turned my head slowly and followed his
gaze up the shagbark where a good sized red squirrel was
cutting a hickory nut. Gommi nodded and I raised the .22 to
my cheek and put the front site on the squirrels head. I
squeezed the trigger and the squirrel ran away unscathed.
Dad says I jerk in anticipation of the shot, I said. He
says to let the shot surprise me.
He would know, Gommi said. Help me up.
We walked out of the woods and saw the cows standing
at the barn waiting to be milked.
Im glad you missed that squirrel, Gommi said.
Theyre so hard to skin. Id rather skin a deer than a
squirrel.
I helped Gommi milk the girls, which is what he called
them. Then Brother Heckewelder came over to look at a calf,
but once he saw it he acted like he didnt want it. Then he
made an offer.
Ill keep her before I let her go for that, Gommi said.
Heckewelder shook his head. Thats all shes worth,
he said.
Thats your opinion, Gommi said.

22

Heckewelder left and we went in for supper, which was

scrambled eggs fried with bacon. Saturday supper was always
an easy meal like this because Ommi was so busy making
food for Sunday. So we sat down and joined hands and Ommi
prayed over the food.
Lord, bless this food unto our bodies so that it may give
us strength to fight the enemies that come against us, both the
enemies from without and the enemies from within, and give
us the discernment to lead those who are lost to Your grace
and eternal salvation. Show us the way to reach out to
Joshuas father, so that he will see the light. Send the Holy
Ghost to him, Father. Send down the Holy Ghost to all those
gathered in that horrible bar. And send down your Pentecostal
Fire tomorrow, Lord, as we worship You. Remind us to our
daughter, Joshuas mother, who we know to be with you in
Paradise even now and who we live our lives so that we may
see again, and here Ommi squeezed my hand, in Christs
holy name forever and ever, amen.
Amen, Gommi said.
So we ate our eggs and bacon and drank warm milk
wed just taken from a cow.
Is Ike coming tomorrow? Ommi asked. Ike
Heckewelder had a feud with the Widow Vonhund about
letting outsiders come to our services. Ike said they were
curiosity seekers who came to mock and scoff because of the
documentary. The Widow Vonhund said it was an opportunity
to spread the gospel.
I dont know, Gommi said.
Didnt you just talk to him? Ommi asked.
We didnt talk about that, Gommi said.
We had oatmeal raisin cookies for desert. Then, after I
helped Ommi do the dishes, we worked on a puzzle of Mt.
Rushmore. Ommi always had a puzzle in progress on a card
table, so we sat down and started fitting pieces in. Every once
in a while Gommi would walk by, pick up a piece and stick it
in, but usually he just read books about the Civil War. Hed
read the same books ten times. He didnt care. He just liked to
read about the Civil War.
Ommi would get up now and then and check on
something baking in the oven and would bring me a little

23

sample even if it wasnt quite done. Then, around nine

oclock, she yawned.
Tomorrow is going to be an early day, she said.
Yes it is, said Gommi. Time to hit the hay.
So I brushed my teeth and washed up. My black eye had
come on really nice, purplish with a brown aura fading to
yellow. I just hoped it would last the night.
+
I always felt like I shared my room at Gommi and
Ommis with my mother. Her clothes were still in the closet
and a photograph of her hung on the wall, her long blonde
tresses falling out of her prayer bonnet in natural curls.
Though no one had ever told me, I knew that the bed I slept in
was where I had been born, and where my mother had died. I
never thought of this as strange at all. It was, in a way,
comforting. I mean, I always felt I belonged when I stayed
with Gommi and Ommi, like I wasnt on the wrong planet
which is how I often feel around people who dont know me
well.
Still, it was hard for me to go to sleep at nine oclock
now that Id been staying with my dad. He put me to bed at a
decent hour but what with the music thumping in the bar
downstairs it was pretty hard to sleep. So Id gotten used to
staying up late. Besides, its always been hard for me to sleep.
I got up and opened the window, thinking I might be able
to hear the goings-on down at the Bluegrass. People would be
getting loud this time of night. There would be drinking and
dancing and the walls would be shaking with live music
amped up to the highest level possible. And outside in the
campgrounds, lesser musicians would be holding court for
smaller audiences around campfires. Men and women would
be smoking and laughing and going off to be alone in tents and
campers.
I turned my ear so that I might hear that rambunctious
discord filtering through the gorge, but there was nothing but
the sound of the breeze on the dry leaves of the corn and water
slipping over the rocks of Brush Creek.
+

24

The smell of frying chicken woke me before sunrise the

next morning. The first thing I did was look in the mirror. My
eye looked awful, which was great.
I thought you were going to sleep all day, Gommi said.
He had a plate in front of him, empty but for a few crumbs.
Ommi slipped a plate in front of me with an apple cinnamon
turnover on it. Gommi topped off his coffee and went outside.
Slow down, Ommi said because I was gobbling the
turnover as fast as I could. I slowed down until she turned
back to the stove, then I stuffed what was left in my mouth,
downed my milk and headed for the door.
Gommi was milking when I came into the barn. I helped
him make short work of that and we got the girls out into the
pasture and hosed the place down. The concrete floor was
channeled and had a good slant to it so the floor would be dry
in no time. It still smelled like a barn of course, but if youve
been raised around livestock thats not a bad smell at all. So
we stoked the fire in the stove and started putting the stomp
floor together.
The boards of the stomp floor were all 2x10x16 oak
and fit together by tongue and groove. Gommi and I had it
together in no time because wed assembled it so many times
before.
Gommi put his hands on the floor. I feel the Spirit in
those old boards already, he said. Go get washed up.
Dawn was breaking. The sun was a pink lip swelling
over the Serpents Promontory. And the wind had shifted
around so that I could smell the smoldering fires of Dads
campground wafting through the hollows. The excitement was
over at the Bluegrass. It had burned itself out in the early
morning hours. But the excitement was just about to get
started on the stomp floor.
+
When I got out of the shower I could hear voices coming
from the kitchen. The Heckewelders were there as were the
Zeisbergers and Widow Vonhund. I got my clothes on, chose
the feathers I would use, and went out to the kitchen where
they were eating pastry and drinking coffee or milk according
to their ages.

25

Ha! What happened to your eye? Matt Zeisberger said.

He was a year older than me.
That little girl up on the ridge beat him up! Mark,
Matts younger brother, said.
Luke, Marks twin, got a big chuckle out of that.
Boys, Sister Zeisberger said. Its Sunday.
Little Faith Zeisberger chirped like a bird. She was the
same age as Ricky but couldnt talk half as well. She was a
fragile little thing with purple veins on her temples because
shed been born with a hole in her heart and was expected to
die any minute.
It was Peepers Potok, I said.
Peepers licked you? Matt said.
Matt had been allowed to drum on a big kettle with these
long spoons during service until his father detected pride in his
performance and made him leave the kettle home. Today, Matt
had the kettle and spoons with him again, but he seemed as
prideful as ever.
I licked him, I said. I bit off a piece of his lip.
Gommi and Old Zeisberger chuckled.
This is nothing to talk about on the Sabbath, Ommi
said. And you men. You shouldnt encourage such things.
Itll shun the Spirit.
Then the Bontraegers pulled into the yard.
What happened to you? Jacob Bontraeger said when
he saw me.
That little girl who lives in the rock house whooped
him, Matt said. And all the Zeisberger kids laughed.
Then old Dark Sophie and her little grand-daughter came
in, hanging onto each other because each other were all they
had. Old Sophie had led a life of sin and degradation and now
that it was almost over, she had come to the Separatists to find
salvation. She was pretty sick and needed to lean heavily on
the grand-daughter to get around. And the little girl was almost
smashed by the burden.
After everyone had got their fill of pastry, we went out to
the barn and Ommi tuned up her guitar and Brother Zeisberger
rosined up his bow and Gommi read from the second chapter
of Acts and said what he thought about it and asked if anyone
else had any thoughts theyd like to share, and of course the

26

Widow Vonhund had her two cents to throw in. Then Brother
Heckewelder said, But foolish and unlearned questions
avoid, for they but gender strifes. And he looked right at
Widow Vonhund when he said it.
Ommi cleared her throat to let Brother Heckewelder
know such scripture recitation wasnt helpful, but Brother
Heckewelder didnt take the hint.
Paul said that, Heckewelder added, not breaking his
gaze with his sister-in-law.
Judge not lest ye be judged, Widow Vonhund replied,
returning his stare volt for volt. For what measure ye mete,
it shall be measured ye the same Jesus said that.
Brother Zeisberger pulled his bow sharply across the
fiddle strings and started croaking a song written in 1757.
Soon everyone was singing and clapping and stomping
on the floor so that the song shook my inner organs and rang
off the barn walls, bouncing back at me, raising the tempo and
the volume.
The feathers twirled in my fingers. They pulled me out
onto the floor. Then they just took over and moved any which
way they wanted while the story played out in my head like a
movie. And no one judged me or made me feel ashamed. The
Spirit moved different people in different ways, and who were
they to question the Spirit?
One song became another, and then another, until it was
a tune that had never been heard before, put to the lyrics of an
unknown tongue. Dark Sophie stretched out face down on the
floor, her palms against the boards, and prayed that God would
heal her, not for her sake, because she didnt deserve it, but for
the sake of the little girl that had been left with her and had
nowhere to go, or anyone to take care of her. And I danced
around Sophie, stomping and jumping and twirling my
feathers so that her old body bounced on the boards like it was
on trampoline.
Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani? the old lady cried while
her dark little grand-daughter sat there like she was scared to
death.
And it just went on and on and on like that. Everyone
was on the floor. Stomping. Clapping. Singing. It was like we
were in a whirlwind, transported to a place far away.

27

Then it slammed shut. It was gone and we were back on

the farm again.
It felt really good when it happened, but it took you
awhile to get your bearings after it was over.
They prayed, thanking the Spirit for coming, and old
Sophie said she felt a lot better, and Ike Heckewelder
whispered to Gommi, Lets take another look at that calf.
The women went off to prepare lunch and Jacob, the
Zeisberger boys and I were left to our own devices.
Just because you made Peepers cry dont mean you can
lick me, Matt Zeisberger said.
You wanna find out? I said.
Right now?
Why not?
I got my white shirt on.
Chickenshit, I said. Id picked up a whole new
vocabulary since Id been living at the Bluegrass Bar and
Brew Thru and I wasnt afraid to use it.
Whatd you say? Matt asked.
Chickenshit, I said. Do you even know what that is,
you stupid Stomper?
Put em up! Matt said, raising his fists.
We circled each other but I really didnt want to hit Matt
and he didnt want to hit me. Jacob Bontraeger got excited
though. He was jumping around yelling encouragement first to
me, then to Matt. He wanted to see a fight so bad he could
taste it. Finally, because nothing was happening, he punched
Luke right in the belly.
Whatd you do that for? Luke yelled.
Jacob was as surprised as anyone. He just stood there as
Luke wound up and punched him back.
Then it was on. Luke and Jacob were down rolling in the
barnyard, kicking and gouging while Matt, Mark and I
watched. Then little Faith came around the corner and
screamed.
Its okay! Its okay! Matt said, trying to calm her. The
doctor said any kind of shock could kill her. But the adults
came around and separated Luke and Jacob and made them sit
under separate trees when they ate lunch and Luke had rolled
into some manure so Brother Zeisberger told him he had to

28

walk home through the fields, but when they left they let him
ride in the back of the truck.
+
When Dad came to pick me up, Gommi went into the
barn to avoid speaking to him.
Its been so nice having you here, Ommi said, handing
me bag of brownies. Share those with your little girlfriend,
she said. Gommi will come and pick you up next week at the
same time. She hugged me and kissed my cheek and turned
away without even looking at Dad.
We drove down the road a ways.
How was Gommi and Ommi? Dad asked. He looked
foggy and hung-over. On weekdays he tried to keep his
drinking under control but on weekends, when I was with my
grandparents, he cut loose.
I shook my head and said nothing. I wasnt just mad at
him. I was mad at Gommi and Ommi too. I was disgusted with
all of them because they couldnt find a way to get along.
Put your work clothes on, Dad said when we pulled in
to the parking lot of the Bluegrass. Were going to make a
round through the campgrounds.
I took the brownies upstairs and hid them in my sock
drawer. On my pillow was a drawing that said to Josh from
Ricky.
In the drawing, a smaller boy was fighting a much bigger
boy while a multitude of stick figures stood woodenly in the
background, their uniformed ranks broken by the single
fleshed out figure of a long haired girl who leaped in the air,
her fists raised and her mouth open in a cheer. It was what you
would expect from a drawing by little kid except for the angel
who hovered in the sky over the whole scene. The angel was
drawn in such a way that her flowing hair blended with the
clouds and the rays of the sun so you really couldnt tell where
the angel left off and the sky began. I would have thrown the
drawing away but for the rendering of the angel.
Dad and I prowled through the campground in the
pickup truck while Wayne and Dwayne walked alongside
collecting garbage. By the looks of things, theyd had quite a
party the night before.

29

Oh shit, Dad groaned, when an F-150 pulled into the

parking lot. Not this son of a bitch again.
+
Hank Goins pulled in to the Bluegrass parking lot with
something really big covered by a tarp in the back of his truck.
We left Wayne and Dwayne standing there with their garbage
bags and followed Hank up the hill to the rock house.
Hank was obviously mad about something because he
wouldnt speak to Dad. Instead, he pounded on the door but
Liz was still in bed because shed worked at the bar until
closing and when she finally came to the door she had on one
of the bars t-shirts. They were yellow and had a red snake on
them all coiled up and ready to unwind with the word
BLUEGRASS under the snake and the address of the bar on
the back.
Liz had that t-shirt on and she looked pretty good if you
asked me. She was sleepy and her hair was wild but she was
still Liz. She wasnt like those women who wake up without
their makeup and dont even look like the same person. When
Liz woke up, she was the same Liz youd seen the night
before. She was just sleepy and didnt have pants on.
You picked a bad time to come, Liz said.
Oh? Whys that?
Because the campground is full of people who just saw
you bring an illegal printer onto the property, she answered.
Its all over Bainbridge, Hank said. Everyone knows
about Jackson Whites new woman. Its true, isnt it? Great
way to keep a low profile.
She slammed the door and locked it.
Youre drunk, Dad said to Hank. Its barely past noon
and youre already drunk. Thats pathetic.
I was sure they were going to fight when Ricky came to
the door with a clothesbasket full of newborn kittens.
Wook at my cats, she said.
Those squirmy little barn cats were so cute they let the
air out of all the tension between Hank and Dad. So we went
inside and everyone was holding a kitten and more or less
getting along.
We werent expecting delivery for at least another
week, Liz said.

30

It was now or never, Hank said. The Cleveland cell

has collapsed. Theyre either in hiding or under arrest. So if
you get any communication from Cleveland you know its
really the government. Its just a slo-mo riot up there. The
police are on strike and people are getting killed for their
pocket change. Its not in the news, but thats the way it is. So
lets get that printer inside.
We moved in all the printing equipment and there was a
bunch of it. We got it all in Grandpas library and laid it out on
the floor.
I hope I remember how to put this back together, Hank
said.
Thats your problem, Dad said. We gotta get back to
the bar.
Can I stay, Dad? I asked. I wanna help put
everything together.
Let him stay, Liz said. Ill bring him when I come
down.
+
Liz and Hank put the printer together and Hank seemed
to cheer up a little.
Paper books are the perfect way for the Resistance to
communicate, he said. Nobody reads paper books anymore.
If you want to hide a message in plain sight, sneak it into a
paper book.
I white books, Ricky said.
No you dont, I said
I do so.
She doesnt, Hank, I said. She just draws these stupid
pictures and folds the paper and says its a book but its really
not.
You cant do it, Ricky said.
I dont want to do it, I said.
Thats enough, Liz said. Youll go to separate corners
if you dont be quiet.
I looked at Ricky. She mouthed the words, I do so.
No you dont, I pantomimed.
Thats it, Liz said, pointing to the corners of the
library. Time out. Hit it. Right now. Not another word.

31

I took my place in the corner and snuck a look at Ricky,

who was waiting for me.
Do so, she mouthed, then spun around before I could
respond.
Liz and Hank had this really low conversation that got
louder and louder until I could hear them.
Youre an asshole, Liz said. Do you really think
Jackson would let us run this operation if I wasnt part of the
deal? Do you think he really gives a damn about the
Resistance? Yeah, I believe in what youre doing politically,
Hank. Im with you there. But on a personal level, Im trying
so hard to be with Jackson again. Hes given me a job, Hank.
Hes given me those rednecks down in the bar for friends.
Hes given me this big old house with dogs and cats and that
little boy to be a brother to Ricky. This is the closest Ive ever
come to having anything like a family and that means so much
more to me than you or the Resistance ever could. Come on,
kids. Time to go to work.
+
Try this, Dad said.
He poured some yellow liquid from a plastic water jug
and pushed the glass across the bar to Wayne White. Wayne
smelled the drink, then sipped it.
Wow, he said. It has a smooth start but kicks like a
mule at the finish.
I dont want it to be subtle, Dad said. I want it to be a
manly drink.
No worries there, Wayne said, passing the glass over
to his brother Dwayne.
Dwayne, who got his brain injured in the Slobbovian
War, had been watching Lizs butt as she worked the bar. He
picked up the glass and drank it.
Oh, thats good, Dwayne said. Thats real good.
What do ya call it?
Highland Charge, Dad said. Its made out of honey
mostly. Im still experimenting with the ingredients. Im trying
to use things found locally so when the shit hits the fan Ill
still be able to make it.
Dwayne finished the rest and slammed of the glass down
on the bar.

32

Another serving of Highland Charge, please! he said,

his eyes sparkling.
Dad looked at some of the strangers in the bar, decided
they were okay, then brought the plastic water jug up and
splashed a little more liquid into Dwaynes glass.
You have to be careful with this stuff, Dad said. The
Charge sneaks up on you. Before you know it youre in a fight
with the Sons of Satan or waking up next to some chick you
shouldnt be in bed with.
Really? Wayne said. Better give me another shot
too.
Ricky sat beside me at the bar, drawing a picture of the
gorge with the steep sides of the cliff lying flat on paper on
either side of the river. It was all there: Serpent Mound, the
Cleft, even David Davis cave. It was all just lying flat on
either side of the river, both margins lined with blue sky and
fluffy clouds.
Thats not how drawings work, I told her.
Thats how my drawings work, she said, and creased
the paper twice so that the river was between the two folds and
the cliffs of the gorge rose up on either bank, the margins
coming together to create a firmament. See? she said,
holding the page up and looking at me with a single green eye
through the triangle it made.
Then some nimrod camper burst into the bar. Hank
Goins is here! he said.
Youre kiddin? some other stranger said.
I aint kiddin! the first guy said. Its Hank Goins!
He jes autographed this dollar!
Hank came into the bar and the nimrods were falling all
over him.
Hey Hank, let me buy you a drink.
Hey Hank, lets get high.
To the regulars like Wayne and Dwayne, Hank wasnt a
big deal. He was in and out all the time and a lot of people
didnt like him. He had an ugly temper when he was drunk for
one thing. And he was always drunk.
So Hank sat down at the bar and scowled. Beside me,
Ricky mimicked the same furrowed brow and hunched
shoulders.

33

Gimme a double dot-a Dack Daniels, doddamn it!

Ricky yelled before Hank could get the words out, the words
he always said when he sat down on the stool.
Hank laughed and everyone else did too. Liz even
laughed. And I was glad to see it because she was so beautiful
when she laughed and because shed been so serious lately.
+
The weather turned cold and snowy in November and
the kids down at the public school were shut up inside, but
Liz, Ricky and I were still running around in the gorge,
studying the crystallization of snowflakes under a microscope,
measuring the growth of icicles on the cliffs and charting air
temperature and ice formation on the pond in Fort Hill. We did
all kinds of things like that, and it was so interesting that even
the cats would tag along. It wasnt like at the public school
where theyd taken down the playground equipment because
someone might skin his knee. Liz taught us Krav Maga and
we were always falling down. In fact, Liz taught us how to
fall.
Fall down nine, get up ten, she said. Thats how you
win.
And I repeated those words like they were scripture. I
inscribed them on my heart.
Liz was a black belt in Krav Maga and she related
everything to it because everything could be related to it. If we
studied throat punches, for instance, we also studied the
anatomy of the neck. If we worked on punches to the solar
plexus or kicks to the testicles, we learned to spell those
words.
The world is filled with evil people, Liz told us, many
of them disguised as good. So we must always know whats
going on around us. All the way around us. Three hundred and
sixty degrees. Especially behind us. And when someone we
dont know is close by, we have to make a threat assessment,
and we watched her write the words in the snow with her
walking stick. We have to watch his behavior, especially his
eye movements, his posture, and his furtive gestures. Again,
she wrote. Furtive means secret, she said. We have to
consider that they may be coordinating with others nearby,
perhaps hidden. We have to set up an equation in our minds.

34

You understand me? We have to say, If he does X, then I do

Y.
Ill kick his testicles into his esophagus! I said. Ill
gouge out his fuckin eyes.
No, Liz said. Run first. Do everything possible to
avoid them.
But if you cant avoid them? I asked, already knowing
the answer.
Liz sighed. Okay, Joshua. Tell us what you do if you
cannot avoid a fight.
You are morally obligated to neutralize your opponent
as fast as possible using any and all means at your disposal, I
said.
Liz nodded. But if you can run away, you should do
that first, she said.
You gonna ask me why youre morally obligated to
neutralize your opponent as fast as possible using any and all
means at your disposal? I asked. I had absolutely no interest
in fleeing from a fight. I wasnt learning Krav Maga to run a
foot race.
Okay, Josh. Tell us why.
Because the right to self-defense is a natural right, I
said. It can neither be granted nor taken away by the laws of
men.
So wed throw each other around in the snow, practicing
Krav Maga. Then, when we were cold, wed go into
Grandpas library, build a big fire and make hot chocolate.
Ricky and I built the fire. Liz was there to see that we
didnt burn the place down, but we did all the work and we lit
the matches. And we made the hot chocolate too, measuring
the milk and honey and cocoa and turning on the stove and
turning it off and cleaning up after ourselves.
We built different types of bird feeders with grandpas
old tools that winter. The feeders didnt look so hot but the
birds didnt mind. So as we sat by the fire working on reading
and writing and arithmetic, we kept an eye on the birdfeeders
outside the window.
Ricky especially loved birds and she started her own
feather collection. She loved the idea of birds and when

35

anyone asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up,
she told them she wanted to be a bird.
+
Then Ricky wrote a Thanksgiving play.
She mostly drew pictures of a Thanksgiving play
because her written vocabulary was pretty limited. And the
pictures were almost all of her dressed up in feathers as
Pocahontas. Liz tried to get her to write her play about the
pilgrims in Massachusetts, but Ricky wouldnt hear it. The
Thanksgiving play was going to be performed at the Bluegrass
on Thanksgiving and it was going to be about Pocahontas and
anyone who wanted it to be about pilgrims could write their
own play.
Im not going to be in your dumb play anyway, I said.
I was supposed to be John Smith.
Ricky threw an awful fit. She worked herself up so she
could barely breathe. Liz tried to convince me to take the role.
Dad tried, too.
No, I said. She does this all the time. She makes up
plays and gives me ridiculous roles and Im tired of it.
Its not weedicuwuss! she screamed. Youre Don
Smith!
Later, Dad took me into his room and unlocked the
closet where he kept his guns. He had all kinds of guns in
there because he liked guns and because hed inherited my
grandfathers collection. It was to one of those ancestral
weapons he went.
This was David Davis rifle, Dad said, taking the
ancient flintlock from its lambskin shroud. He fed his family
with this gun. He defended them with it. The story goes that
he broke the stock using the gun as a club, then carved a new
stock for it. I wasnt there so I dont know, but this is
definitely an improvised stock of very great age.
We dont know who David Davis was, Dad continued.
We dont really know anything about him. So theres a lot of
ugly myth floating around. But this old gun is real.
There was cross like a plus sign carved on the stock, and
the letters D.D. and as Dad talked, he ran his fingers through
the letters.

36

Well, I was thinking, Dad said. A lot of people know

I have this gun but theyve never seen it. Theyve just heard
about it. John Smith wouldnt have carried a rifled gun. He
would have had a musket. But I dont think Ricky is too
concerned about historical accuracy.
What are you getting at, Dad?
Well, like I said, a lot of people would really like to see
this gun. If youd like to carry it as part of your role as John
Smith in Rickys play, I think we could work something out.
+
Dad played Powhatan and I was John Smith but we
didnt have much to do in the play other than the part where
Powhatan is about to take off John Smiths head and
Pocahontas runs out and throws herself on my neck, shouting,
dont kill im, Daddy! I wuv im! And that part was just
stuck in at the end.
Mostly the show was Ricky singing and dancing in the
outfit shed made out of her feather collection. Shed dance,
then sing a song, then toot on this harmonica Hank had taught
her to play, then sing some more. When she was finally
finished, I got to walk out with Davis gun and we all got a
standing ovation from the sorryass patrons of the Bluegrass
Bar and Grill who had nowhere else to go on Thanksgiving.
+
As soon as deer season was over we were back in the
woods collecting black walnuts in the gorge. Id lost sight of
Ricky and Liz but I didnt think we were far apart. The dogs
were with us and they were making the rounds back and forth,
chasing squirrels and whatnot.
Then I heard Ricky scream.
I really couldnt tell where it was coming from because
we were in the gorge and the way that place twists around
with all the cliffs and overhangs it sounded like the whole
place was screaming. I saw Devil and Psycho running up over
the hill and so I ran after them. Then I saw Peepers Potok on
his back jabbing a knife at the dogs while they ripped at him.
Ricky was standing nearby crying with her pants pulled down.
+
We pulled the dogs off and Peepers ran away through the
woods. We went back to the Bluegrass and Liz was telling

37

Dad what had happened when Deputy Collins arrived with

some people from the humane society. Mrs. Potok was
pressing charges, Deputy Collins said. Peepers ear was going
to have to be surgically reattached so the humane society was
going to take the dogs.
Those dogs arent going anywhere, Dad told the
people from the humane society.
And they didnt.
+
The patrons of the bar fell in love with Ricky after that.
That moron Hannity brought in a silk pillow and put it on a
stool for her to sit on because, he said, she was the Princess of
the Bluegrass Bar and Brew-thru. He even bought her a little
crown and a little plastic scepter and she would sit on her
pillow and point the scepter and me and say pshtoo! like she
was putting a spell on me or something.

+
Ten years passed and things changed.
Mostly it was the Fairness Laws, which protected the
oppressed from the oppressors. Workers were protected from
employers, renters from landlords, patients from doctors,
children from parents, this race from that race, poor against
rich, women against men, until everybody considered
themselves someone elses victim and there were so many
rules and regulations that no matter what a person did, he was
probably breaking a Fairness Law. For instance, the laws
eventually got around to making private education illegal,
which meant Ricky and I would have to enter the public high
school come fall.
Then there was the Slobb migration.
When Nashville blew up, Slobbs danced in the streets of
Slobbovia at least the men did, Slobb women not being
allowed to dance. But somehow, a few years after the attack,
sympathy for the Slobbs grew, starting with actors and
politicians. Slobbs were the real victims, it turned out. They
were poor. They were hated by their bigoted neighbors, who
saw them as ignorant, lazy and thievish. And their land had

38

been poisoned by the development of the device that was

detonated in Tennessee, where so many people were bigoted,
racist, and white.
Slobb migration was supported by people in Hollywood
who were so compassionate and open-minded that they could
forgive what had been done to the people of Nashville. Then
certain politicians said America should be an example of
forgiveness and generosity. So the Slobbs poured in and were
immediately put on the pathway to citizenship, complete with
Supplemental Security Income, Medicaid, Aid to Dependent
Children, EBT cards, and voter registration.
Then Moloch Peor Egesta ran for President.
No one knew anything about him beyond the fictitious
memoirs he had published. His American mother had been
one of those college girls who showed how broadminded she
was by screwing the weirdest foreign exchange students on
campus. His Slobbovian father was a communist-bigamistpedophile who killed himself and two others when he wrecked
his car with a forty ounce can of malt liquor between his legs.
But the people on television said Egesta Jr. was cool.
They said he was with it and hip. They said if Americans
wanted to be hip, they would vote for Egesta, even though no
one knew anything about him. If Americans voted for the
other guy, the people on television said, they would be racists.
+
Meanwhile, Lizs printing press churned out a slow but
steady stream of homemade books with the most uninteresting
titles imaginable. And yet the printing frequently required Liz
to stay up late into the night, manipulating the most
imperceptible elements of the page layout. And every few
days, Hank would swing by and load up his truck under cover
of darkness and take the books away. Hank was around so
much that he had an old airstream trailer in the campgrounds
and had even started playing regular gigs at the Bluegrass with
a local band called the Neer Do Wells.
And Ricky changed too. The baby fat melted from her
cheeks and her legs grew long and lanky and all the men at the
bar studied her like there was something there to memorize.
She had decided she was going to be a star of some kind
so she experimented to see what got a reaction, and amongst

39

those old horndogs at the Bluegrass, almost anything did. She

was always moving to the juke box for instance. Not quite
dancing, but not standing still either. She studied all the old
videos of Kitty Whites live performances and when Hank
played the Bluegrass she would go up on stage with her guitar
and sing Kittys part of the old songs. There was Hank a living
legend and Ricky stealing the show from him. But he didnt
mind. He encouraged it. And I guess she was pretty good. A
lot of guys said she was, but I dont know if they were
thinking of her singing.
Then, in April, the whirlwind descended.
+
All day Saturday the tube had been talking about the line
of dangerous thunderstorms that were ripping across the
Midwest, but everything was hunky-dory in Adams County.
Then, just before sunset, the western sky took on this strange,
purple glow and everyone in the bar went out into the parking
lot to watch.
Youd better stay down here tonight, Dad told Liz. It
could get bad up on the ridge.
Lightning lit the insides of the clouds. A low rumble
rolled over the hills and the clouds puckered and swirled and
shifted into all kinds of shapes that you could make into faces
if you were prone to do that
You ever seen anything like it, Hank? Ricky asked.
Yeah, Hank said. But not often.
+
The bar was nearly empty the rest of the night.
Hank started drinking Highland Charge and strumming
his guitar and Ricky got on the piano and pretty soon they had
something going. It was some old blues riff Id heard in a
million other songs, but they had it working for them. Every
once in a while Hank would start something new, then come
back to the same three chords. Then Ricky would improvise
on the keyboards and, as usual, would overreach, trying to be
better than she was. Hank started tapping the foot pedal of this
old base drum and they were both watching each other
because when Hank would lift the neck of his guitar, or when
Ricky would flip her hair back, they would sing the chorus
together, which was baby, baby, baby just like Johnny

40

Rivers. Then theyd jump back into it. They didnt care if it
was a silly song. They were just doing it for themselves. They
did that until Dad closed the bar because no one was coming
in what with the tornado warning.
Hank finally staggered off to his trailer with a bottle of
Highland Charge, having refused to stay with the rest of us.
Dad, me, Liz and Ricky went upstairs to bed, but we didnt
sleep much because just after midnight it sounded like a
squadron of jet fighters was taking off down the hollow.
I looked out the window and saw the rain blowing in
sheets so full of debris that I couldnt see the barn on the other
side of the parking lot let alone Hanks trailer on the other side
of the field. I pulled on my pants and ran out in the hall. Dad
was already there, talking on his cell phone.
Im coming down to get you, Dad was telling Hank.
Dad listened for a moment, then hung up.
What did he say? I asked.
He said hed shoot me if I interfered with the hand of
fate.
Then Liz and Ricky came out. Liz was dressed but Ricky
just had on this t-shirt and that was all.
Lets go to the basement, Dad said as the lights went
out.
He got his shotgun from his room, flipped on the LED
light mounted under the barrel and we all followed him
downstairs. In the kitchen, the power indicator light was lit on
the walk-in refrigerator so at least the generator was keeping
our food cold.
The basement door was steel, secured by three deadbolts
that locked into a steel door frame wielded to a steel plate
bolted to the floor joists. The basement itself was insulated
and lined with shelves of blankets, duct tape, tarps, propane
canisters and boxes of ammunition. Dad kept guns down
there, his safe, and his reloading and brewing operations. So
against all the walls were dozens of glass carboys filled with
Highland Charge in various stages of fermentation, their air
locks clicking and clanking as the brew bubbled and burped,
filling the air with the sweet scent of honey turning into
alcohol.

41

Call Hank, Dad said, handing his phone to Liz. Hell

listen to you. Josh, find us some light.
We had dozens of Separatists lanterns. They were glass
canning jars with bees wax and string in them, so they were
what most people called hurricane candles. I lit one and was
taking it to Dad when Ricky said, Bring it here! Im
freezing!
Ricky was sitting on a plastic five-gallon bucket of
freeze dried food with her knees drawn up so that only her
toes touched the cold rock floor, big toe to big toe, kind of
pigeon-toed. I handed her the lantern and she put it on the
floor behind her raised heels so that the flame threw a glow
onto the arches of her feet, her calves and her inner thighs. Her
legs were tanned but the arch of her foot was white. The arch
of her foot was white as cream while the top of her foot was
dark like coffee with cream, except for where the tips of her
toes pressed against the floor. The tips of her toes were a shade
lighter around the nails, which had little fragments of red
polish that had mostly worn off, but not quite.
And thats what got to me.
Thats when it happened.
On each nail there was a little piece of red polish,
glittering in the candle light like some precious treasure, like
some priceless ruby necklace that somehow, someway,
through an amazing series of unbelievable events, found its
way here, to this dirty floor. To me. And I was suddenly filled
with an overwhelming desire to bow down and hold those feet,
kiss them, and melt like butter between each dirty little digit.
I could lie about this. Or I could let it go unmentioned.
But why should I? Its the truth. Thats the way I felt.
Ricky looked up, the flame flickering in her green eyes,
and I knew that, somehow, she knew what I was thinking, and
that was okay with me.
Josh? Dad said. Joshua!
Liz cam came over and snatched the candle from
between Rickys feet. Here, she said, taking a blanket from
the shelf and draping it over Ricky. Thisll keep you warm.
We heard the windows blow out in the barroom
overhead, then tables and chairs started scooting around. We

42

all just looked up at the floorboards above us, expecting them

to be ripped off the joists at any minute.
Then it passed and Dad and I ran upstairs and out into
the parking lot. A bunch of shingles had blown off and some
windows were out, but everything else was there. Ditto the
barn. But as we ran across the campgrounds we could see that
Hanks truck was blown over on its side and its cap was
cracked open.
Then we saw Hank standing there smoking a cigarette.
There were pages of the latest batch of secret books Liz had
made blowing over the campgrounds. Pages were stuck up in
trees and blowing across the field toward the river.
This isnt good, Hank said. This isnt good at all.
+
We went into the bar and got on Dads computer and
went to the secret email account. All the local Resisters had
the password for this account but it was never used to actually
send emails. Instead, it was a secret bulletin board where
Resisters could save messages in the drafts folder and other
Resisters could log-in and read them. Since there were no
emails being sent, the government couldnt intercept them.
That was the idea anyway.
The draft folder was filling up rapidly. Bainbridge had
been hit by a tornado, one message read. Bainbridge was fine,
said another. It was Gnadenhutten that had been wiped off the
map.
Josh, Dad said, go up to my bedroom and get my .45.
Put it in its holster.
I went up and got the gun loaded, cocked and locked.
The holster he was taking about was attached to a military belt
with four pouches filled with extra magazines. I put the pistol
in the holster and carried the rig downstairs. It felt like it
weighed about twenty pounds with all that ammo.
Dad buckled the belt around my waist and cinched it
tight. I want you to take your bike up the road toward
Bainbridge and check it out. Take your phone. Go super slow
and look for downed electrical wires. If you see one, turn
around and come back. End of mission. If you come up on any
kind of obstacle my truck cant get over, turn around and come
back. End of mission. Stay away from people. Run from them.

43

Go to that gun as a last resort. This is a simple out and back

recon mission, Josh. We just want to know if the road is open
to Bainbridge. Come back at the very first obstacle. Got it?
Got it.
You see somebody who needs help you call me and
well get the Resisters on it. Now repeat back what I just told
you.
I repeated it back to him and he excused me to go. So I
went out to the barn and gassed up my bike. It was only a 110
but it had plenty of pep in the lower gears. I started it up and
was rolling across the parking lot when Rick came running out
of the brew-thru.
Im coming, she said, throwing her leg over the seat
and putting her arms around my waist.
You ask permission? I asked.
Hell no, she said.
+
Downed wires danced like burning snakes on either side
of Bainbridge Road, but there was nothing we couldnt get
over or around until we got to the Rocky Fork Bridge where
this huge oak had come down. We stopped and looked over
the situation.
How old do you figure that tree is?
My phone rang and Liz spoke into my ear.
Is Erica with you?
Yeah, I said. Wanna talk to her?
Then Dad got on the phone and started cursing. You get
back here right now, you hear me?
I think we need to press on, Ricky said after I hung up.
I mean, weve come this far. It would be a shame to turn back
now.
We rode the bike down into the creek and it was deeper
than it looked and the bike stalled out so we tried to push it up
the bank which was muddy as hell and caused us to keep
sliding back into the drink, which was ice cold. Then I put my
belt around this sapling up on the bank and pulled myself up
with one hand while pulling the bike up with the other while
Ricky pushed. So we got it up out of the creek. Then we got
lucky because the road gave us a little incline to coast down.
So I started rolling the bike and popping the clutch and on

44

about the tenth try the old motor coughed and we were in
business again.
It looks like cotton candy in the trees, Ricky yelled in
my ear.
Insulation, I yelled back.
I could feel my phone ringing in my pocket and I knew it
was Dad, but wed crossed the Rubicon so I felt no reason to
talk to him.
We crested a rise and rode down into the Paint Creek
Valley where two government housing projects had recently
gone up. Servants Quarters was a walled community of large
brick houses where essential government workers lived.
Though the streets throbbed with the lights of emergency
vehicles, the well-built houses were unscathed. Diversity
Estates was a different story. Setting lower on the flood plain,
the multi-family units had been reduced to piles of vinyl and
styrofoam.
+
Id never met a Slobb before. But the Zeisbergers had
dealt with them when there was still a farmers market in
Bainbridge and Matt Zeisberger said Slobbs where inferior
because they lacked character. He said that they would steal
right in front of you and if you tried to stop them, they would
pull out their Egesta phones and call the Department of
Fairness. Matt said the government had trained the Slobbs to
do this when they gave them the phones and if you objected to
them stealing you were a racist.
Ricky and I rode down into Diversity Estates and there
were Slobb guys all over the place, sitting on piles of rubble
with their open palms outstretched, wailing a bunch of
gibberish. Then they started running at us, holding out their
empty hands like they wanted something.
To Ricky and me, it seemed like a weird reaction,
rushing us like that. Ricky reached inside my jacket and
yanked out Dads .45. The Slobbs, once Ricky showed the
gun, shoved it into reverse and scattered like roaches.
I pulled into this niche in a pile of twisted vinyl and
killed the motor. We crouched behind the bike and I called
Dad while Rick kept an eye on the natives.

45

Where the hell are you? Dad asked. I could barely hear
him what with the screeching of chainsaws in the background.
Were at Diversity Estates, I said. Theres not a
building standing. Theres no police here. No ambulances.
Nothing. It looks like theyre all over at Servants Quarters.
Were coming, Dad said. Were dragging the tree off
the bridge now. Are you in a safe place?
Yeah.
Stay there. Dont move until you see me.
Understand?
Understand.
Are you going to obey me this time?
Yes, sir, I said, and signed off.
Listen, Ricky said. Hear that?
Somewhere beneath us was a girls voice, so weak and
faint it could hardly be heard. Help us, the voice said.
Please, help us.
+
I started moving debris and the voices coming from the
basement got louder. I dug until I came to a twisted tangle of
water pipes. The girls below were just a few feet away. I
reached through the opening and someone took my hand. The
touch was weak and cold. I tried to squeeze through but the
opening was too small.
I pushed myself out of the hole and caught a breath.
Listen, Ricky said. There are girls in all these
basements. You can hear them crying.
Several Slobb men had reappeared and were watching us
from a distance, holding boards with nails in the end. Ricky
brandished the gun and they ran.
I rolled my bike over to the hole Id dug and turned on
my headlight. Tell me what you see in there, I said, lifting
the back wheel.
Oh, my Gosh, Ricky said, handing me the pistol.
Before I could stop her, she was down the hole.
+
A girl climbed out, naked and pregnant. I sat her on a
piece of foam insulation, then took off my shirt and covered
her. This really set the tongues a wagging among the Slobb
men lurking around the periphery.

46

Theres a bunch of girls down here, Ricky yelled up

from the basement. Theyre chained to a pipe. If you could
find a rope I could tie it to the pipe and we could use the
motorcycle to jerk it out of the wall.
I went through the debris ripping electrical cords out of
lamps and televisions and tying them together. I passed the
line down the hole to Ricky and she went away then came
back and told me it was tied on.
I wrapped the other end of the cord around the crash bar
of my bike and got on. Stand clear, I said, and throttled back
slowly.
The cord broke.
I gathered more cord and started braiding it when I heard
the rattle and roar of 4x4 PowerStroke engines speeding down
the valley.
Hang on, I shouted to Ricky. Dads here.
+
The Resisters rolled into Diversity Estates in five pickup trucks and a couple of Jeeps. They had and winches and
hydraulic jacks and chainsaws and crow bars and sledge
hammers and coolers full of food and water.
Watch them! Dad said, nodding to the Slobbs gathering
in the shadows. They think they have a right to steal.
The Resisters got those girls out of that basement and
had them under Mylar blankets and eating granola bars in no
time. Thats when one of the Slobb boys threw a rock.
It was hard to say if he was aiming at the trucks or the
girls but Tucker Gibson picked up the rock and winged it right
back into the kids face. Splat! Dead-on into his bone-pierced
snout!
The kid fell back blubbering, his empty palms held out
like he expected someone to load him up with firewood.
Knock it off, Dad said to Tucker. Weve got more
important things to do.
We parked our vehicles in a semi-circle in front of the
next collapsed apartment building, and put the girls wed just
rescued in the center to keep them safe from the Slobb men,
who lost interest after a while and drifted off. Hank kept a
lookout with his shotgun while monitoring the police scanner

47

and civilian band radio, which I tried to listen to as I moved

rubble.
Looting had broken out in Bainbridge and Hillsboro. The
911 recording was telling people not to resist if their homes
where invaded. The recording told people to let the looters
take what they wanted.
Nothing is worth a human life, the computer-generated
female voice said over and over.
Then our guys would report in on the citizen band.
Resisters were opening roads and checking on people, putting
tarps on damaged roofs and boarding up broken windows.
They were pitching in wherever they were needed and
spreading the word that looters would be shot on sight.
+
Dawn broke and we were still digging girls out of
basements at Diversity Estates. It was always the same deal.
They were chained to pipes with scraps of food and buckets of
water and shit nearby. By noon wed gone through less than a
quarter of the housing units and had cut the chains off a couple
dozen girls when the cops finally arrived.
Wow, Dwayne White said. That must be every cruiser
in the country.
The police just kept coming down Route 50, their lights
flashing. There were sheriffs cruisers from all the neighboring
counties. There were city cruisers from Hillsboro, Bainbridge,
Gnadenhutten and as far away as Chillicothe.
Sheriff Bondhaver got out of the lead Adams County
cruiser and walked toward my dad. He had this other guy with
him. A very slight guy.
I know youre not supposed to judge someone on their
appearance but we do it all the time, so why lie?
This guy with the Sheriff was extremely slight. I mean, in
the bicep area, Liz had him beat six ways to Sunday. Well
maybe he was sick, I thought. Maybe he has AIDS or
something.
But then there was his hair, which was highlighted.
And his slacks were tight, and lacked back pockets.
Howdy, Jackson, Sheriff Bondhaver said.

48

Im glad you could make it, Dad said. Weve found

something you should know about. Dad nodded at the girls
squatting on the ground.
Care-full! Mr. Slight sing-songed, rolling his eyes
skyward.
Sheriff Bondhaver glanced at the ground, not at the girls.
Sheriff? Dad said. We found the same thing in
Slobbovia. Supposedly, it was one of the reasons we fought
there. You know what Im talking about. Its called slavery.
Con-tro-versial! Mr. Slight sang, grinning.
Introduce us to your boyfriend, Bondhaver, Teddy
Gibson said.
The sheriff looked up through his bushy eyebrows at
Teddy. Bondhaver and the Gibson family had a history that
went back decades.
This is Mr. Cloward-Piven, Sheriff Bondhaver said.
He works for President Egesta, who will be coming here
within the next few hours to direct the rescue efforts, so you
guys have to clear out. Right now. Immediately.
Therere girls chained up in these basements, Ricky
said. Theyre still alive. You can hear them calling for help!
Cloward-Piven giggled.
What are you laughing at, you little fag? Teddy said.
Thats enough, Dad said. Over by my truck.
Everyone.
Whats happening, Sheriff? Cloward-Piven said.
Youre letting them have a meeting? I want them to leave, so
make them leave.
+
We gathered at Dads truck.
You know how when youre a little kid and you think
your dad is superman and will never die? Well I looked at him
and I knew he wasnt superman. He suddenly looked so old
that I knew he was going to die. Maybe not anytime soon, but
I knew that someday it would happen. I dont know why that
thought crossed my mind, but it did.
Listen, Dad said. We fly under the radar, remember?
We keep our cards close to the vest, right? Right?
Right, Wayne said.

49

Theres not a stoplight working in thirty miles, Dad

said. Theres widespread looting and every cop in three
counties has been called off the job to wait for some worthless
piece of shit to show up for a photo op. So lets go home,
boys. The worlds gone crazy but maybe we can still take care
of our little piece of it.
+
We loaded my bike in the bed of the truck and I drove
home with Ricky sitting between me and Dad. In no time, she
was asleep, her head on my shoulder.
Dad was on the phone setting up a Stop and Assist
defensive perimeter. Roads were not to be blocked, but
crossroads would be monitored. Everyone driving into the area
would be eyeballed. If they didnt look right, an attempt would
be made to offer them assistance. If they didnt pull over, they
would be followed.
We pulled into the Bluegrass where Liz had set up a
command center at the bar with her computer, the land line
and her cell phones. Several Old Order Separatists were at the
bar drinking coffee, muddy and tired from dragging trees out
of the road all night with horse teams.
Fill up the grill, Dad said to me.
So we made a bunch of food and took it around to all the
Resisters on duty and they were doing a pretty good job of
what Dad called taking ownership. Taking ownership meant
that you didnt pass a problem to someone else. Instead, you
executed a solution on your own. You thought and acted as an
individual with a clear understanding of right and wrong. So if
a Resister had been given an observation post, but was needed
at home because a tree had fallen on his roof, it was up to him
to find a replacement. The key was not to make work for
others. Man up. Take care of it yourself. Do the right thing.
We found a few replacements as we distributed food, but
mostly it was the same people whod come out in the first
place. Theyd been working all night and were still at it with
no complaints.
We were going down Strait Creek Road when we heard
over the CB that a car load of guys had just blown through the
stop sign at Louden and were headed our way. Dad backed
into a forestry fire road and in a few minutes they came by in

50

Mrs. Vanovers old Cadillac, the driver weaving like a drunk,

going about thirty miles an hour. We pulled in behind him and
he took it up to forty but we stayed on his tail. When he tried
to go faster he veered into the ditch. Dad pulled around front
of him and stopped.
We could see the six men in the car. We were close
enough to see the bones in their noses. The driver floored the
accelerator and held it there. When the rear wheel was buried
up to the axle, they got out of the car and ran into the woods,
waving their arms like a pack of apes.
+
We looked in the Cadillac and it was hard to believe
what they had done in there.
Its part of their culture, Dad said. Its how they mark
their territory.
We popped the trunk to make sure Mrs. Vanover wasnt
there, then attached a tow chain to the Caddy. Dad laid a tarp
over the drivers seat. Im sorry you have to do this, he
said.
I rolled down the windows and Dad pulled me out of the
ditch.
I drove the car to Rotherham, where Mrs. Vanover lived.
Her front door had been kicked in and every drawer in the
house had been dumped, but Mrs. Vanover was nowhere to be
found. Dad called 911 but all he got was that robotic voice
saying not to resist looters because nothing is worth a human
life.
I wanna take a shower, I said.
Dad wanted to get out of there, but he understood.
There was no hot water but I didnt care. I lathered up
with Mrs. Vanovers lilac soap and let the water wash over me.
But I still felt filthy. I felt filthy inside because of what the
Slobbs had done in the car and in Mrs. Vanovers house and
the fact that they were human beings and that I shared that
humanity with them, that capability of being as foul and nasty
as they were.
I felt something churn in my belly. I felt it gather mass
and take shape and force its way up through my throat and out
my mouth. I stepped out of the shower and knelt over the
commode and got it all out. Ommi says to never miss an

51

opportunity to pray when youre on your knees so I sent a

little prayer up. I asked God to give Western Civilization the
balls to turn back the barbarians. I dont know if He heard me,
but that is what I asked. Then I thanked Him for all he had
given me.
We left the car in the Mrs. Vanovers driveway and
headed for home. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot of
the Bluegrass the sky was full of helicopters. It was so loud
that everybody in the bar came out to look.
President Egesta and his herd of media asskissers arrive
in time to for the evening news, Hank said.
+
At 6:30 a bunch of us were in the bar watching the news
to see what theyd say about the tornado and right away news
anchor Brian Rather looks sternly into the camera and says
ever so gravely: Coming up: As unprecedented storms rip up
the heartland climate experts warn that time is running out!
The screen flashed to a shot of Slobb men squatting on
the ground like theyre taking a dump, wailing in their
incomprehensible language, holding out their empty palms.
Why do they hold their hands like that? Ricky asked.
Theyre lamenting, Dad said. Theyre complaining to
their gods about the unfairness of their lives and asking for the
possessions of others.
Then President Egesta was shown squatting amongst the
Slobbs in his leather presidential bomber jacket, his palms
held up, tears running down his face. Then four people in red
Fairness Union berets were shown carrying the body of a dead
girl from the wreckage of Diversity Estates, but it was the
body of a girl we had already dug out. They were just carrying
her around on a stretcher for the cameras. One of the F.U. guys
was a young Slobb. Then there was a black female with a
stethoscope hanging from her neck. Then there was an Asian
girl wearing glasses. Then another black guy.
All scientists agree, President Egesta said to the
reporters he had brought with him in the swarm of helicopters,
that these storms were caused by the greed of America. The
multi-racial Fairness Workers standing behind the President,
nodded in solemn agreement. Yes, yes. All scientists agree.
The debate is over.

52

Let me be perfectly clear, Egesta said. The fine

Americans of Diversity Estates were doing all the right things.
They lived together in fuel efficient housing. They relied on
public transportation. And yet they have been victimized by
the greed of those who insist on a way of life that is
unsustainable, unfair and racist. And I say to you this must
end. It will end. We must do everything in our power to make
sure that the disaster of Diversity Estates never happens
again!
The Fairness Union people behind the President nodded
and clapped.
You think those people standing behind Egesta really
believe what hes saying? Ricky asked.
They do, Liz said. Theyve been dumbed down.
Their parents were dumbed down. Their teachers were
dumbed down by professors who were dumbed down. Though
they think they are intelligent and morally superior because
they voted for Moloch Egesta, they have no permanent ethical
values and are incapable of critical thinking. Truth is a floating
standard to them. And theyre so stupid they have no idea how
stupid they are.
How about Egesta? I asked. Does he believe what he
says?
Moloch Egesta believes in Moloch Egesta, Liz said.
Hes a psychopathic narcissist in the Nero mold.
Dad was down at the end of the bar working out some
things with his calculator and notepad. After a while, he
looked up and winked and I knew he had hatched a plan.
+
The next day I didnt go to school up at the rock house.
Instead I rode around with Dad finding people who had
downed trees that needed to be removed. There were other
people driving around doing the same thing but most of them
were storm chasers, Dad said, who came from who-knowswhere, asked for a down payment up front, and then were
never seen again. Dads pitch was simple: You dont pay until
the jobs done right. We take cash, but we give a discount for
silver.
Silver? some old hilljack would say. Why would I
pay in silver?

53

To screw those bastards in Washington, Dad would

reply.
Yeah, the hilljack would nod. He hated those rich
bastards too, those sons of bitches with soft hands and two
hundred dollar haircuts.
Youve heard about the Resistance Exchange? Dad
would ask. Well the Exchange operates on silver. Silver and
gold and cash and barter and none of it taxed. Heres a
pamphlet that explains it all. You might consider joining the
Exchange. Now how about that tree?
So Dad was not only getting the tree removal business,
but recruiting membership for the Exchange.
But his business plan didnt stop there. We hauled the
wood back to the campgrounds where Dad planned to sell it to
campers or anyone else who wanted it. So we were making
money on both ends.
Soon we had so much work that we took on the Gibson
boys, who already did roofing on the side. After a few days,
Dad said it was time for me to go out as boss of my own crew,
so I bought another chain saw and hired the Zeisberger
brothers, Matthew, Mark and Luke, who had been taking
classes with Liz after their dad had a falling out with the
teacher at the Separatist school.
Dad went back to running the bar and those of us cutting
the trees were sub-contractors, keeping the money we made
from the homeowners, but dropping the wood off at the
Bluegrass. Then, when we ran out of trees to cut up, we started
repairing roofs with the Gibsons.
Not to brag, but I became incredibly strong in a very
short time. And I was rugged. I could split logs or carry
bundles of shingles up a ladder from sunrise to sunset. Even
when I was sitting still, I could feel the strength surging like
there was something in me that wanted long, hard physical
action. I needed to swing an axe or pound down nails. And
when the Zeisberger boys and I would stop by the Bluegrass to
deliver a load of wood or to eat lunch, I checked out the
motorcycle club members there, wondering if I could take
them, wanting to fight just to see whod come out on top. And
they saw this in me and thought of me differently now. I was

54

no longer Feather Boy. I was someone to be respected, even

feared. And I resolved not to let this slip away from me.
+
Dad let me do roofing until I knew the job inside and
out, then he told me to quit.
Time to hit the books, he said. Time to be a kid
again.
But Im not a kid, I said. Before the tornado I was,
but now Im not. You see that dont you?
He looked up from the cash register. Whats your
point?
I want to join the Resistance, I said. And I dont want
to be just be an auxiliary guy. I want to be a knight. I want to
go all the way.
You cant ask to be a knight, Dad said, going back to
straightening bills. You have to be asked.
I know that, I said. Im telling you I want to be
asked.
+
Resistance groups had sprung up all over the country in
response to the corruption of Washington. It was resistance to
the dishonesty and socialist authoritarianism of political
correctness and most of it took the form of providing
educational alternatives for parents who didnt want their kids
brainwashed by the public schools.
Other resisters had gone Galt, choosing to produce no
taxable income for Washington to confiscate. They built
Resistance Exchanges, doing business under the table rather
than give the government a cut. They practiced something
called Irish democracy, which meant they quietly ignored
the thousands of laws and regulations spewed out by the elites
in Washington. For those government agents who tried to
enforce Washingtons rules, there was hot tar and feathers.
And there were other resisters who thought a civil war
was coming and they were getting ready to win that war. They
didnt intend to compromise with the authoritarians. They
intended to win. They had a plan to win, and it was based on a
battlefield tactic used by the Knights Templar during the
crusades. It was called the squadron charge, and the point was
when the time came - to hit the enemys leadership with

55

unrelenting ferocity. It was a decapitation tactic, and there

were small groups of Americans all over the country preparing
to fight this kind of war.
The Resistance vowed no first use of violence, but
once it was on, it was going to the last ditch, one way or
another. No surrender. No compromise.
To be a knight of the Resistance, you had to be trusted
by other members. If someone bragged about being in the
Resistance you knew he really wasnt. Resisters kept their
mouths shut. The first rule of the Resistance was not to talk
about the Resistance.
Still, Resisters worked to increase their ranks by
recruiting like-minded members. Then, when a cell got too big
to function efficiently, it would split, and the two groups
would act independently, new members having no knowledge
of the old members of the parent group.
Many people in Fairness Union jobs military, cops,
firemen, teachers, public service workers were secretly
members of Resistance cells, loyal to Americas founding
documents but not the government or the Fairness Union.
See, if there was going to be a fight, I wanted in on it.
So I made my request to Dad, who I believed was the head of
the local Resistance cell, and I waited for a response. And
waited.
+
With the money I made cutting up trees, I bought two
old 883 Sportsters that didnt run. One had been ridden off a
bridge and the other had over 130 thousand miles on it. My
plan was to put the good parts of each bike together to make
one that would work. So every chance I got I was out in the
barn stripping the good parts off the bike that had been fished
out of the river and putting them on the bike that had been
ridden into the ground.
One morning I found a book on the seat of one of my
motorcycles. It was The Road to Serfdom, which I recognized
as one of the books Liz printed up on the ridge.
There are thirty-three gates of Resistance, Dad said
from the door of the barn. That book contains everything you
need to memorize to pass through the first ten. If theres
something there you dont believe, you cant pass through that

56

gate. If you cant pass through a gate, you cant be a knight of

the Fighting Resistance.
I leafed through the book.
I dont see anything here about passing through gates,
I said.
Look harder, Dad said.
+
That afternoon, I was up on the ridge doing dumbbell
pullovers in my grandfathers library while Ricky was
strumming her guitar. I was doing multiple reps with light
weights because thats the way to build endurance as well as
strength. Endurance is important in hand-to-hand combat
because it doesnt matter how strong you are if you poop out
before the other guy.
Liz was in and out of the library trying to tell us what to
expect now that the Fairness Laws said everyone had to go to
public school. But she was also dealing with some crisis that
required her to leave the room and whisper into the phone
every two minutes.
Liz came back in the room. Okay, she said. Where
was I?
You were telling us about how they make you play a
video game in school, Ricky said.
Right. Its called Gaia Dancing, Liz said.
Youre kidding, I laughed.
I am not. Its about these kids on a dance team. Theyre
called the Gaia Dancers.
And youre telling me guys play this game?
Liz took a breath. A lot of the boys at public school
arent going to be like you or the Zeisberger boys, Liz said.
Youre going to be the odd ones. And the few male teachers
at the school arent going to be like your dad or Gommi or the
guys at the Bluegrass.
What do you mean?
I mean a lot of guys at the public school are going to
love Gaia Dancing.
Lizs phone rang. I have to take this, she said, and
walked out of the room.
Theyre gonna make you dance, Ricky laughed.
I dont think so, I said.

57

Theyre going to make you dance like fucking Fred

Astaire, she said.
We were quiet for a while. She played the guitar and I
worked on the bench press until Id had enough. I placed the
bar in the brackets and sat on the bench watching Ricky strum.
I took out The Road to Serfdom and tried to read it, but it
was nearly impossible. The professor who had written it was a
total gasbag who seemed to use his vocabulary to purposely
cloud his meaning.
Whyre you reading that? Ricky asked.
Dad says theres something in it I need to know before I
can join the Resistance, I said, but I cant make head nor
tails of it.
Theres a code hidden in the text, she said, still
strumming. Theres a code in everything Mom prints. Dont
you know that? Youre such a dumbass. Youre so smart when
it comes to some things. But then you cant see whats
happening right in front of you.
+
The Fairness Laws said everyone had to go to public
school so that everyone would have the same chance in life.
So Ricky and I went to the high school to take an entrance test
with all the other kids whod had been home schooled or had
gone to private schools. Right away there was a hubbub at
the door with the Separatist girls and their prayer bonnets.
No, no, no! this guy in a red Fairness Union t-shirt
said. Not in dis house! Dose hats offensive! Dey raciss!
He spoke lingo, which was the rage with certain
recording artists and celebrities. It was a simplified, lazy
language that supposedly showed how cool and hip the
speaker was and which you werent supposed to criticize
because that would be raciss, which was the most often used
word in lingo. You could say things like Gimme dat! or
Yo! Yo! Yo!, but you couldnt discuss, say, the degenerative
effects of multi-generational welfare dependency. There was
no vocabulary in lingo for that. There was no vocabulary for
thinking about such things, which, according to Liz, was the
whole point of lingo. It wasnt enough to impoverish people
financially. It wasnt even enough to impoverish them morally.
To truly enslave people, Liz said, the instrument of their

58

thinking - their language - must also be made poor. Professors

were being run out of universities for daring to criticize
lingo, cuz dat be raciss.
So the FU thug told the Separatist girls they had to take
their bonnets off and he may as well have told them to lift
their skirts and show their panties because Separatist girls are
that modest about their hair. I mean, if youre with a Separatist
girl and she takes her bonnet off well, she would be telling
you something. So when none of the girls complied with the
union guy, he reached for Selah Schottelkottes bonnet and
Lang Weiss grabbed his arm and twisted it.
Yo! the thug yelled.
That stupid asshole is about to find out Separatists
arent Amish, Ricky said.
We went into the school with two pieces of identification
and surprise! surprise! Ricky wasnt fourteen after all, but
really sixteen. At least thats what her phony birth certificate
said. So the Fairness Worker checking identification gave
Ricky the same 11th grade test she gave me and we went into
the gym with all the other homeschooled kids.
After a while they let the Separatist girls in but they had
to sit in the back of gym so other kids wouldnt be offended by
their bonnets. Then we had to watch a video that followed the
horrible lives of an Asian lesbian, a transgender Mexican kid
in a wheelchair, and a nerdy little African-American who
played the violin and was always getting beat up by a gang of
blue-eyed blondes who knocked out Negros for sport.
It just went on and on. These kids were getting bullied
like crazy by the blonde gang and not once did they fight back.
Not once did anyone step up to fight for them. Then, with
music swelling and big tears rolling down their cheeks, the
Asian lesbo drank Drain-O, the tranny rolled him/herself off a
cliff, and the black kid was seen swinging in silhouette from
the end of a violin string.
It usually pisses me off when someone uses rhetorical
tricks to manipulate my emotions, but I just had to laugh out
loud when Egesta came on the screen and started choking up
about how he had also been made to feel different back in the
day before the government defended the defenseless and Im
thinking, dude, you attended the most elite private schools in

59

the country. Youve been elected president. You have a private

plane, and helicopter, and a mansion. America has laid some
fine shit upon your table. And youre still bitching about how
unfair your life has been. Youre not a victim, Egesta. Youre
self-centered whiner. Thats your problem in a fucking
nutshell.
Well right away this really ugly guidance counselor
came down on me and I could tell she was greatly touched by
President Egestas disclosure of feeling different.
Whats so funny, country boy? she said. Why dont
you share it with the rest of us?
She was being really loud, trying to draw attention, so I
went right back at her.
Its a strawman argument, I said. The video
misrepresents heterosexual white kids, then attacks the
misrepresentation. Instead of using propaganda techniques on
students, you should be teaching them how to recognize the
manipulation.
Is that what you learned in home school?
Yeah, I said. Its called critical thinking.
She took me to a separate room to take the test. I think
the only reason she did it was so the other students would
think that I was getting some kind of punishment. But I
wasnt. I was just put in a room with this guy in a Fairness
Union t-shirt with a name tag that said DeMarquise.
Now is that pronounced De Mar kee, I asked, or De
Mar kwiss?
Jes ta da tes, he said. Again, the lingo.
The test was a joke. It was multiple choice and there
were only two choices and all the questions started with
something like, Gueterrizz and Izdal walked around the track
three times in an hour, but it took Joe seventy minutes to walk
around the track twice... Or Mary says that 3 times 8 is 38,
but Hussein tells her she is wrong... '
I know I shouldve just ignored it. I shouldve just given
them what they wanted. But I couldnt. Theres this thing in
me that always wants to rebel against stupid shit, even when I
know its going to come back and bite me on the ass.

60

At the top of the scantron form it said, DO NOT

WRITE YOUR ESSAY ON THIS FORM. So I turned the
form sideways and wrote in big block letters: YOUR ESSAY.
+
A few days after taking the test, I was up at the rock
house. Like I said, Lizs home schooling operation had grown
to include the Zeisberger kids: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and
Faith. So I got a double dose of the Zeisbergers, both at
school and at church.
Anyway, Ricky had not yet come down from her room
so everyone had started reading aloud without her. Faith was
taking her turn and she was usually a happy little kid but
goofy as hell. Shed been born with that heart defect and had
been expected to die when she was a baby but there she was,
fourteen and plinking right along.
We were reading Animal Farm and Faith was taking her
turn and I could tell something was wrong. She just wasnt the
same little Faith.
Outside, a truck strained to climb the hill. Good, Faith,
Liz said, looking out the window. Can you guys just to
yourselves for a while? Ive got to do something.
So Liz excused herself and I got out my notebook and
drew because drawing sometimes makes me feel better and to
tell you the truth I felt pretty shitty.
You get your class schedule? Matt asked.
I had. It said I was being placed in the Behavioral
Disabilities Unit, which was the reason I felt shitty.
No, I said. Id intercepted it at the mailbox and hadnt
shown it to Dad.
We got ours, Mark said.
Wonder why you didnt get yours, said Luke.
I dont know, I said. Its a mystery.
I looked out the window at Liz and Hank frantically
loading books into the truck.
The ceiling creaked overhead. Ricky had finally gotten
out of bed. The creaking stopped a minute, then the toilet
flushed through the pipes and she was on the move again.
Flip-flop, flip-flop.
Ricky danced into the library singing, her ratty house
coat barely tied together, her gang of cats following. Its a

61

beautiful day in the neighborhoods, A beautiful day for a

neighbor. Would you be mine? Could you be mine? She
snatched Faiths prayer bonnet and plopped in on her own
head. I saw Faith Zeisberger dancing with the devil! she
shouted. Naked!
Ricky did stuff like that all the time. She played
characters from movies, TV, or books shed read. One minute
shed be Mister Rogers and the next minute she was Abby
Williams from The Crucible.
Give my bonnet back, Faith said. Usually Faith
thought Ricky was funny, but not today.
Ricky plopped down in Grandpas old Lazy Boy recliner.
Devil sniffed the air, then followed his nose over to her. He
was deaf and blind but his nose still worked.
Wheres your Animal Farm? Mark asked. Ricky had a
copy of Wuthering Heights.
I knocked it off last night, she said. Its really a very
short book. More of a novella than a novel Id say.
Oh, yeah? I said. What happened to Boxer then? I
really had finished the book.
Ricky shrugged. The pigs told him he was getting free
health care but it was really a one way ticket to the
slaughterhouse.
Mark recoiled. The pigs send Boxer to the
slaughterhouse? I hate books where the horse dies.
No good, Luke said, shaking his head. What kind of
stupid story is this anyway?
Its a story where pigs talk, Matthew said. What do
you expect? Do our pigs ever talk to you? If this Orwell guy
would lie about that, dont you think hed lie about other
things?
He lied about his name being Orwell, Mark said.
George Orwell is a nom de plume, Ricky said. And
the animals are personified. We talked about personification
and nom de plumes, remember? They were vocabulary
terms.
Boxers dead? Faith said.
Hes not dead, said Luke. He cant die if he never
lived. This books not true.

62

Mom would say that fiction is sometimes the best way

to tell the truth, Ricky said. Thats what she would say if she
were here. Shes not, so I will.
Whyd they kill Boxer then? Faith asked. I like
Boxer. Hes a good worker.
Ricky turned to me. Happy now, asshole? You ruined it
for the fucking Zeisberger children.
Ricky opened her book and draped a leg over the arm of
the chair so that we could all swear in court that she was
wearing pink underwear with yellow smiley faces.
Why dont you take a picture, Josh? she said, not
looking up from her page. It would last longer.
I dont know what youre talking about, I said, and
went back to drawing.
Yous knows wut Ahm talkin bout. Yous sittin ober
der sneakin de peek at po ole Nigga Jim, tinkin dem nassy
thoughts!
Josh got dem nassy thoughts! Mark said, chuckling.
Nassy! Luke laughed.
Of course, wed recently read Huck Finn.
I ignored them the best I could and after a while
everyone went back to reading. But Ricky never knew when
to quit.
Oh, Heathcliff, she sighed. Whatever shall we do?
Not in the mood, I said.
Oh ye moody, broody black-eyed, bastard! Damned be
the day that Papa brought ye in from th moor! Damned be the
day that I let ye into my heart! She went down on one knee
in front of me. Flee, Heathcliff! she said. Flee Wuthering
Heights! But take this token of my love wi ye as ye go. She
picked up a cat and dropped it on my notebook.
Damn, I said, pushing the cat to the floor. Look what
you did!
Oh looky! she said. Theres a little mark on Grumpy
Joshs drawing of a deer! Ever hear of a fucking eraser, Josh?
Oh, looky! Theres one on the end of your fucking pencil!
What they hells wrong with everyone today?
Whats going on out there, Liz called from the kitchen.
Josh is abusing Queen Mab, Ricky called back. In her
anus.

63

The Zeisberger boys thought this was thigh-slapping

hilarious.
What so funny? I asked. I just dont get it.
Youd get it if it was in your fucking anus, Ricky said.
Whats all the commotion in here? Liz said, coming
back into the room. She sat down and picked up her book.
Where were we? She looked washed out, like all the blood
had drained from her face.
Whyd the pigs kill Boxer? Faith asked.
Liz looked at Ricky. Ricky pointed at me.
Why are you having us read a book with talking
animals? Matt said. Animals dont talk.
Its an allegorical satire, Ricky said. Its
metaphorical.
Balaams ass talked to him in the Bible, Luke said.
When you say ass, Ricky said, do you mean his butt
crack or his actual anus?
It was his donkey, Mark said. It was God talking
through his donkey.
If you believe that, Ricky said, you shouldnt have
any trouble believing Animal Farm.
Animal Farm is the word of man, Luke said. The
Bible is the word of God.
Mark looked at Liz. You think the Bible is the word of
God, dont you Liz?
Its not a good time for this conversation, Liz said.
Mom is a cultural Christian, Ricky said. She
believes Christianity was instrumental in Western
Civilizations development of individualism, human rights and
personal responsibility. But she probably feels like such things
as the virgin birth and the resurrection lay beyond the bounds
of scientific possibility. Aint dat rat, Mum?
There was the sound of someone coming into the
kitchen. Listen, Liz said. A lot is going on. Can you guys
just read to yourself?
Liz left and Ricky once more draped her leg over the
arm of grandpas Lazy Boy. She started wagging her flip-flop,
making that imperceptible little whisper where the rubber
rubbed between her big and second toes. Wisht, wisht, wisht.

64

This was something just between me and her. The

Zeisbergers were oblivious to it. But, today, it held no interest
for me either and I could tell it was killing her. Finally, she let
the flip-flop drop and I looked down at the worn out rubber
sandal, then back to Rickys soles, the bottom of her toes,
strung together like five little pink pearls.
She scrunched them, which was another thing she did for
my sake.
I looked back to my notebook like I was bored. I just
wasnt in the mood. Usually I was, but not today.
Asshole, she said. Everyone looked at her. Her face
was red and she was really angry. She was enraged. Thats the
way she was. She was really kind of crazy, if you want to
know the truth. A hell of a lot crazier than me.
Dad came into the room with Liz.
Get some clothes on, he said to Ricky. I want you
guys to go to Joshuas grandparents and stay there until I
come get you.
Why? Ricky asked.
No time he said. Put some shoes on and go right now!
Run!
+
We took off running down the trail, Faith on Matts back
because of the hole in her heart.
Matt ran with her all the way up to the White Cemetery,
where the trail dipped down into the gorge.
I can run now, Faith said. Its downhill.
She ran awhile but slowed down again in no time.
Hop on, I said, moving in front of her. Faith jumped on
my back and I ran with her like that way all the way down into
the gorge.
We can stop running now, I said when we bottomed
out at the river. Were safe here.
Whyd we have to go? Luke asked, huffing and
puffing. Whyd he tell us to run?
I dont like it down here, Faith said, looking up at the
dark overhangs of the cliffs above us. She was still riding my
back. Theyre watching us from up there.
No ones watching us, I said.

65

Yes they are. Therere ghosts here, Faith said. Ricky

told me all about them. Theres a boy ghost and a girl ghost.
Whirling Wind and Lightning Strike, Ricky confirmed.
I feel their ghostly presence now.
I do too, Faith said, starting to cry. Lets go!
Whats wrong with you, Faith? I said. There are no
ghosts here.
Hes lying, Faith, Ricky said. You know what you
feel. The thing to remember is that while Whirling Wind and
Lightning Strike are vicious spirits, theyre our vicious spirits.
Theyre here to cover us. Listen! I hear them shrieking
now.
Those arent ghosts, I said. Those are kids jumping
off the train trestle.
+
A train hadnt gone across the trestle in decades but
certain kids came down into the gorge and jumped into the
river there because it was so deep and because there was a
rope which had been there forever. So we rounded a bend in
the river and sure enough there were the two Jessis swimming
around with a couple of older guys.
Jessi Gipson and Jessi White were the current champs
for Worst Reputation in Adams County, Teenage Girl Division,
which was saying a lot given the competition. Well Jessi
White swung out on the rope and did a cannonball into the
water and swam over and came up out of the river.
Jessi White was what people called a Dark White
because she was darker than the usual White, who tended
toward darkness anyway. But Jessi had thicker lips and her
hair, while kind of dirty blonde, was wild as hell and she did
nothing to tame it.
Hey cuz, she said to me, though we really werent
cousins. Whites just call each other cousins if theyre near the
same age. If someone is older, we call them uncle or aunt. But
we dont recognize regular family relationships because were
usually pretty tangled up. This is nothing Im proud of, but
why lie?
Hey, Jessi, I said.
Lets go, Faith said. This isnt right.

66

Close your eyes, Matt said, studying every inch of

Jessis body. If you dont want to see her, close your eyes.
Lets go, I said. I recognized the guys the Jessis were
with and they werent guys I cared for. So we walked on down
through the gorge.
Wow! Mark said. Did you see that girl?
A girl? Ricky said. I missed that. Give me a
complete description.
We walked awhile, then Matt grabbed my arm and
pulled me back.
Whats her name? Matt asked.
Who? I said.
You know who. Our little cousin back there. Thats
Jessi White isnt it? She used to come to church with her
Ommi, right? Years ago. Then the old lady died and she went
to someone else. Thats her, isnt it? Thats little Jessi. Is she
going to be at the public school?
Forget her, I said. Really, Matt. Shes nothing but
trouble. The worst of the worst.
Whats that supposed to mean? You best care for what
you say about her. Hear me?
+
Walking into the deepest part of the gorge was like
entering some other world where the sun wasnt so direct,
where everything was dripping and covered with moss and
draped with ferns. It was like being in a tunnel with all the
overhanging cliffs and vines dangling down and even though
there wasnt a cloud in the sky it seemed like it was raining
what with the water dripping on us.
We stopped in front of the Cleft and looked up through
the crack in the rock.
Feel it? Ricky said. Hear it?
We were silent for a moment. Yeah, Mark said. I feel
it.
It was like a breath, inhaling and exhaling, moving air
back and forth from ridge top to gorge bottom.
Its barely a breeze today, Ricky said, but sometimes
it moans like the sad souls of star-crossed lovers.
I wanna go, Faith said. I dont wanna to hear the
moans of sad souls.

67

Its just the wind up on the ridge, I said. Its like

someone blowing over an open bottle. Thats all it is.
Smell the honeysuckle? Ricky said. Smell the
sassafras roots reaching down into the ground? I dont care
what anyone says, this place is alive! Josh and I used to play
here all the time and the ghosts of Whirling Wind and
Lightning Strike were always hovering around us, werent
they Josh?
No.
You told me they were.
We were playing, I said.
I bet I can get Whirling Wind to answer now, Ricky
said. WhooooOOO!
WhoooooOOO! came the echo.
I wanna leave, Faith said. I wanna go before the
ghosts come.
Its too late, Ricky said with this creepy look on her
face. Theyre already here.
Stop it! Faith shouted. I know youre just trying to
scare me and its not funny!
Ricky shrugged. What the hell is up with everyone
today? Why is everyone so sensitive?
We walked on down the gorge a ways.
Remember that time we were in the Cleft and it
stormed? Ricky asked. The place was roaring. The water
started pouring off the cliffs and it was no place you wanted to
be, Ill tell ya that. We wouldve been swept clean down to the
river if it wasnt for us climbing up into that cave. Do you
remember the place we climbed up to, Josh?
No.
Liar. It was David Davis cave. How high up do you
think that cave is, Josh? I mean how many feet?
I didnt say anything.
And remember how we built a little fire up there with
branches and twigs that had blown into the cave? Remember
how we used to build fires? she said.
Fires? Luke said. You used to build fires?
All the time, Ricky said. And wed make life-sized
heads out of clay and put them up in branches and on rocks.

68

We built dams and hunted for fossils and arrowheads and

mushrooms and played with feathers wed find.
That was a long time ago, I said.
No it wasnt, Ricky said. It really wasnt long ago at
all.
We came out of the gorge and into my grandparents
cornfield and walked down a row, the stalks towering over our
heads, the stiff leaves brushing our faces and arms.
I dont want to go to public school, Faith said. Boys
come into the girls restroom and hit you if you wear a bonnet
and do dirty things to you and try to make you say nasty
things about Jesus and laugh at Him.
Who told you that? Ricky asked.
No one had to tell me, Faith said. I found out when I
took the admittance test.
We walked on through the corn for a while, saying
nothing.
Hold up, I said. Where are the girls?
We stopped and heard them behind us. Then they
stopped.
What did you guys stop for? Ricky asked. We still
couldnt see them through the corn.
We wondered where you were, I said to the leaves.
Were right behind you, Ricky said. Were okay.
Were talking.
We walked on.
Pee-u! Mark said. Whats that smell?
Something big crashed through the corn nearby.
We picked up rocks and found Ricky and Faith, whod
been crying.
Probably a deer, I said.
That wasnt a deer, Ricky said. Lets get out of here.
We walked faster, but we didnt hear anything else so
after a while we slowed down and dropped our rocks.
Gommis dog raised a ruckus and when we came out of
the corn the old man was standing in the door of the barn with
his shotgun. He gave us a wave and walked back in the barn.
He was a good old guy, but he wasnt friendly at all.

69

Well hello! Ommi called from the side yard. She was
at the picnic table under the sycamore tree holding a water
hose over a heap of green beans.
Matthew, Mark, Luke and Faith! Ommi said. How
are you?
Fine, said Matt. How are you, Sister Ruth?
Fine! Ommi said. Sit! Sit! And who is this beautiful
young lady? Dont tell me this is that smart little girl who
lives up on the ridge! Dont tell me this is little Ricky! Long
time no see, sweetie!
Hello Mrs. Zeisberger, Ricky said. (Yes, Ommi and
Gommi were also named Zeisberger.)
Sit! Sit! Help me break these beans! What brings you
all out this way?
We dont really know, I said. Dad told us to scram.
We had to vamoose, Ricky said. We had to get out of
Dodge.
The whole countrys going haywire, Ommi said.
Deputy Collins was here yesterday and he told Hiram
therere things going on that you just cant imagine.
Theres a guy in San Francisco who bites off wieners,
Ricky said.
Inappropriate, I said.
But its true, she said. I read it on The Drudge Report.
They call him the Snapper. He goes to places where homos
stick their wieners in holes and instead of giving them the
pleasure they desire he chomps their wieners off.
Whats he do with them? Mark asked. The wieners?
Does he swallow them or spit them back through the hole?
Maybe he takes them home and mounts them on his
wall, Luke said.
Romans 1:27, Ommi said. And the Zeisbergers nodded
their heads in understanding.
I wish I could be a Christian, Ricky said, staring off
into the distance. Ive asked Josh to take me to church but he
always says no.
What? Ommi said, looking at me.
Shes lying, I said. Shes never asked to go to church
in her life.
Im asking now, Ricky said.

70

You hafta dress right, Luke said. You cant go to

church the way you dress.
The way you dress would sow lust in the hearts of the
men and boys, Mark said.
Proper attire is not a problem, Ommi said, snapping
the bean she held. Come with me girls.
The three of them went into the house.
Ricky in church, Matt laughed. I cant wait to see
that.
What say we stop breaking beans? Luke said. What
say we go see what Brother Hiram is doing?
We walked out to the barnyard where Gommi was
leaning over the hog pen watching a couple of pigs.
Whats shakin Gommi? I asked.
Well, the main problem is this fella doesnt seem to
fancy the ladies, he said, nodding at the boar.
Maybe hes a homo hog, Luke said. Maybe the
snapper bit his wiener off.
Gommi gave Luke a look. Well if he dont man up
pretty soon hes headed for the menu, Gommi said. What
brings you boys out this way?
We dont know, I said. Dad shows up and tells us to
take off through the woods, so we take off. Maybe hell tell us
later.
Gommi spat tobacco juice into the pen and shook his
head. Somethins goinon, he said. A deputy came by this
mornin lookin for a fella that was down in the womens
latrine at Rocky Fork. You understand me? He was down in it.
In the shithole.
Why would he do that? Luke asked.
Maybe he was trying to meet girls, Mark said.
Gommi got a rare chuckle out of that.
Its the Slobbs, I said. They do things like that. Its
part of their culture.
There he goes, Matt said, nodding to the boar.
Whats his name, Brother Hiram? Luke asked.
Augie, Gommi said. Augie the hoggy,
You just made that up, Matt said.
There he goes! Luke said.

71

Jump up there and get ya some, Augie! Mark called.

Stuff like that passed for entertainment amongst the
Zeisbergers.
Whoops! Youre gonna have to help him, Gommi!
A mans gotta do what a mans gotta do, Brother
Hiram!
Gommi climbed into the pen.
Mnage a trois! I said.
Now you just pipe down, Gommi said. This is
dangerous business.
But Augie reestablished the connection by himself and
we watched until he was finished. Gommi said the hog would
do better on his next date now that he was a man of the world.
We hung around shooting the breeze and after a while
Faith came running out all breathless and excited.
Come quick! she said. Sister Ruths dressed Ricky for
church!
Dont run, Matt said. But Faith ran back to the house
anyway.
We all went into the kitchen and Faith was waiting for
us. Sit down! she said. All the kitchen chairs were turned so
we could see Ricky as soon as she walked into the room, so I
sat down next to Gommi and waited for the show. Now close
your eyes, everyone! Close your eyes, Joshua. No peeking!
Alright, I said. Get it over with.
Okay! Open your eyes!
+
Separatist girls make their own clothes and there are
pretty strict rules about how theyre supposed to be modest
and so forth. Still, a Separatist girl with a hot body and sewing
skill can make sure everyone knows she has a hot body. Ive
grown up around Separatist girls and theyre just as conniving
as any other girls, just in a weird, Separatist way. So we all
opened our eyes and there stood Ricky with her hair pulled up
under a lace bonnet and wearing the white apron of an
unengaged Separatist girl. A virgin. And the dress?
Wow.
Up top, it fit her like skin.
No one said anything. We just looked because the
transformation was so stark. She was a Separatist girl.

72

Whats the matter, Uncle Hiram? Faith asked Gommi.

Why are you crying?
I looked at Ommi and she had watered up too.
This was our daughters dress, Ommi said. Joshuas
mother made it.
Thats when Dad came through the door with his AK-47.
+
It was like the world stopped for a moment.
Whats this? Dad finally asked, swallowing hard.
You tell us, Ricky said, nodding to the rifle.
Dad looked at the gun like hed forgotten it. He was
clearly stunned by Rickys transformation.
Howd you get here? Gommi asked. I didnt hear you
drive up.
Im parked off the fire road back in the woods, Dad
said. The Fairness Union has blocked all the roads. Why are
you dressed like that?
Im wearing this to church next Sunday, Ricky said.
Why are the roads blocked?
No one knows, Dad said, still staring at Ricky. The
F.U. doesnt know either. Theyve just been ordered to stand
down, but a lot of them are lost and wandering around.
Theyre totally disorganized.
+
We dropped the Zeisbergers off at their farm, then drove
Ricky home, where Hannity, Hank and Liz were waiting on
the porch.
Hey, hey, hey, sweet thang, Hannity said when he saw
Ricky.
Is this all weve got? Dad said.
So far, Liz said.
This is what we can expect when the shit really hits the
fan, Hank said. Hannity shows up without his guns. This is
how good our communication system is. This is how reliable
our knights are.
A jeep came ripping up the hill. It was Bob Mullins
Is this a drill? Bob asked. He was wearing Bermuda
shorts and sandals. I hope its a drill, Bob said. I dont have
my gun with me. I broke up with my girlfriend and I aint
moved all my stuff to my new place yet an shes...

73

Dad raised his hand. We dont need the whole story, he

said.
After a while we heard a truck coming up the lane and it
turned out to be the three Gibson brothers, Tommy, Teddy and
Tucker.
This better be something real, Teddy Gibson said.
We were up on a roof and when we left they were none too
happy about it.
Where are your guns? Dad asked.
The Gibson boys looked at each other. What did I tell
you? Tucker said to his brothers. Jackson, I told them we
needed our guns but they said we didnt have time.
We heard a motorcycle coming through the hollow,
pulling into the parking lot of the Bluegrass and climbing the
hill. It was Wayne and Dwayne White.
We forgot what the code meant, Wayne said. We been
at Serpent Mound waiting for you guys to show then when no
one did, we remembered this was the place.
You didnt bring your guns? Dad asked.
Wayne felt his front pocket. I got my .380, he said.
You guys call yourself Resisters, Liz said. This is
pathetic. You got no idea what just happened, do you?
Now you just hold on, Tommy said. At least we
showed up. Yell at them that aint here.
What just happened? Wayne asked.
The Fairness Union mobilized, Liz said. Theyre
getting ready for something. From the looks of it, theyre
about as incompetent as we are. Are you guys working out at
all?
I pump some iron, Wayne said.
But can you run? Liz asked.
Resisters dont run from nobody! Hannity said with a
grin.
Were running to the Cleft and back, Dad said. Just
to see if we can still do it.
Were taking a training run? Dwayne asked. Aint it a
little hot for that?
Ricky slipped inside the house.
Couldnt you have given us a heads up on this? Teddy
said. I aint exactly prepared for a marathon.

74

Its just to the Cleft and back, Liz said.

Do I have to run? Bob asked. Ive got sandals on.
Take a few minutes to stretch, Liz said, looking at her
watch. Were taking off at the top of the hour.
+
Wed just started jogging when the screen door of the
rock house slammed and Ricky came running in our direction.
She had on these volleyball shorts that left little to the
imagination. And she had on a sports bra so that her stomach
was bare and it was pretty much like she was naked. You
couldnt see the detail but you got the shape of everything.
Go back in the house, Dad said. Youre not running
with us.
You got that right, she said. Im running way out in
front of you.
Go inside, Ricky, Liz said. Im serious.
Ricky shook her head, and ran backwards in front of us.
Not gonna happen, she said. Dont ask again.
Ricky, Dad said.
Lets just run, she said. Joshua wants me to come.
Hell say he doesnt but he really does. Isnt that right, Josh?
I really dont want you to come, I said.
See, she said.
Dad made a grab for her but she easily outpaced him,
even running backwards.
We jogged up the road leading to the cemetery, the
Resisters struggling but Ricky and me not having a problem
because we ran every day. I fell in beside her out of force of
habit and in no time we were out in front of the others.
You wouldnt believe what these boys at school did to
Faith. Id tell you but she made me promise not to. Its really
disgusting. You promise not to tell?
She did this all the time. She let me in on a secret and
then, somehow, I became responsible along with her for
setting things right. She was a master of this technique. But I
wasnt taking the bait this time.
What the hells wrong with you? she asked. Why are
you being such a mope?
Theyre putting me in the Behavioral Disabilities Unit
at school, I said. Its the retard class. I fucked up the test,

75

see. I did it on purpose. I asked Dad to treat me like a man

and let me join the Resistance then I did something stupid and
childish.
We ran a ways saying nothing.
Everyone is being given a disability now, she said.
Besides, its not a retard class. Its a class for kids who wont
buckle under.
Its a retard class, I said. Thats the box theyre
putting me in. Thats how Ill be known for the rest of my life.
Itll be on my record that Im not normal, then thats what I
become. Thats what they do in public schools. They put
people in boxes theyll never be able to climb out of. And I
served myself up to them on a silver platter.
Youre not normal, Ricky said, suddenly picking up
the pace. Who wants to be normal? Try to keep up.
At the cemetery I peeled off my t-shirt, threw it on the
gate, and looked back at the far corner where my mother was
buried. We ran along the ridge for a hundred yards or so, then
hit a series of switchbacks. It felt good to run and not think. It
felt good to let the body take over and do its thing.
Follow if you dare, Ricky said, and went scrambling
straight down through the underbrush. I went after her, kicking
up leaves and twigs and jumping over downed trees, and
eventually passed her, grabbing onto a sapling and swinging
around on the lip of a cliff.
I cant stop! she shouted, coming at me. Im going
over!
I had no doubt she was going to jump. It was in her eyes.
She was going to go over the cliff right in front of me if I
didnt stop her. It was totally crazy, but it was something she
would do. And in the same crazy way, I knew what she was
doing, like shed done it before.
I swung out in front of her and she smacked up against
my chest, hitting me so hard it hurt.
Are you crazy?
She went up on her toes, sliding her bare belly over
mine, mingling our sweat and the grit wed picked up on the
scramble down the hill.
I felt her lungs in her chest. I felt my own lungs fall in
line, taking when hers gave, shrinking when hers expanded. I

76

looked down into those green eyes and her mouth opened and
I breathed in her breath. I smelled that wayward fragrance of
her body, that sweet sinful scent.
I knew youd catch me, she whispered, moving her
finger over the scar on my chest. Just like you caught me
when we fell off the mantle the day we met. How you cut
yourself to save me. See, I know who you really are, Joshua
White. I know exactly who you are and I dont care what some
stupid school says about you.
My hand found its way up under that mop of damp hair.
My fingers closed around the nape of her neck. A shiver shook
her spine sending a volt through my arm and into my head. It
was like the grand finale on the Fourth of July was going off
inside my brain, like every synaptic connection in my head
was suddenly exploding with a billion little Roman candles.
Thats when Dad and Liz came huffing and puffing
down the trail.
+
That night, things were strange at the Bluegrass Bar and
Brew Thru. Ricky rode her bike down to work dinner, but Dad
told her she was fired and threw her bike in his truck.
Oh, yeah? she said. You cant fire me cause I quit!
Dad had never really hired her but she waited on tables
for tips anyway, and if the bar was busy, Dad looked the other
way. But the bar wasnt busy, even though it was Saturday.
And the few guys who were there werent eating or drinking.
They were just flipping back and forth between NBC and the
Resistance News. According to the former, everything was
hunky-dory. According to the latter, all hell was breaking
loose. No one was coming through the brew-thru. No one was
even driving down the road.
Suit yourself, Dad said.
But Im not just gonna quit working at this stinking
bar, she said. Im going to quit working the bees too! No
more honey, Jackson! No more Highland Charge!
Ricky thought she owned all the bees because she made
the queens. And she was good at making queens. Shed just
cut out a strip of eggs with a pocket knife, stick the strip on the
down side of a crossbar with beeswax and pinch them every
inch or so. It was the way dad had taught us, but Rickys

77

success rate was off the charts for some reason. And she could
make the graft right there at the hive with bees climbing all
over her. And it wasnt that she was immune to the stings like
Dad was. The bees just didnt sting her. It was the pheromones
her body put off or something. It was really quite amazing and
she actually thought the bees would stop making honey if she
told them to.
Get in the truck, Dad told her.
Go screw yourself, Jackson. Give me my bike back!
I bought that bike for you, Dad said. Now get in the
truck.
You think you own everything, dont you? Ricky
yelled. Well you dont own me!
And she ran up the lane toward the rock house.
A half hour later, my phone vibrated in my pocket and I
ducked back into the kitchen.
It was Ricky texting: Sent to my rm for kissing u phone
taken.
We didnt kiss! I hate you.
I no! I hate you too.
How u texting w out ur phone
Stole it back. Power off down there?
Yep
+
Dad said the power grid used to go out only during bad
storms and would be back on in hours. Then the time it took
for the power to be restored got longer and longer, stretching
out to days, then weeks. Now the power went out all the time
for no reason and it was anyones guess when it would come
back on. Dad said we were headed for a new Dark Age where
everyone had a Facebook page and a college degree but no
one knew how to fix anything.
In the bar, guys talked politics in the dark. Then the
lights came back on but it was only because the old generator
finally fired up. So I walked around turning off lights because
we ran the generator only for refrigeration.
Dad opened the door and I could hear sirens blaring
down in Bainbridge. Close up the drive thru and get your
gear, he said to me. Come out when youre ready. We need
to talk. He already carried his rifle and had his Kevlar on.

78

So I went up to my room and could hear the guys

circling their trucks around the bar. I got my gear on and
loaded my SKS and by the time I got downstairs the Resisters
had armed themselves and had pulled up chairs to open
windows. I went outside and Dad was sitting on the steps.
Have a seat, he said.
Somewhere down the hollow, someone popped off a
couple of shots. Dad looked down at his phone, then took a
draw from his cigar.
Whats the deal with you and Ricky? he asked.
There is no deal.
Thats not what it looked like today.
You know how she is.
I want you to stay away from her.
There were sirens and alarms going off all around us
now. Up the hollow. Down the hollow. We sat there for a long
time listening, not saying anything. She lives on our
property, Dad. Through the trees, I could see part of the roof
of the rock house.
Being with her isnt right, Dad said. You have to find
someone else at school.
I gotta hit the can, I said.
There were six new texts from Ricky.
Sorry, I answered. Been busy.
My phone rang.
Im going to church tomorrow.
I dont think so, I said. I just got the talk from Dad.
He wont stop me from going to church. How could he
do that?
He told me to stay away from you.
Hes such a moron, she said. Doesnt he know how
ate up you are with Oppositional Defiance Disorder? Telling
you to stay away is like like encouraging you to go after
me!
+
Dad and I drove out to Gommi and Ommis that night.
Gommi was on the front porch surrounded by stacks of
firewood so that we could barely see his eyes.
All quiet on the western front? Dad asked.

79

Gommi nodded. Maggie took to barking then went off

after something in the corn but who knows what it was.
Dad looked at the cornfield. Shes not come back?
Gommi shook his head.
I didnt think anything of it. Maggie was relentless once
she got on a track. She would chase a deer all night, then
follow her nose home again in the morning.
Joshs spending the night, Dad said.
Josh can stay here any time he wants, Gommi said.
But we dont need no help. We can take care of ourselves.
Ommi opened the screen door. Did I hear someone say
Josh was spending the night? Get out of the truck, Jackson.
Whats wrong with you?
So we got out and went up on the porch and saw that
Gommi had his 10/22 in his lap and his 870 pump leaning
against the wall. We drank a cup of coffee and the sodium
vapor light in the barnyard slowly came to life, illuminating
the barn and causing a stir among the chickens in their coop.
I feel better now with the power back on, Ommi said.
Gommi called for Maggie but she didnt show.
+
I went to bed around midnight but I didnt fall asleep.
Maybe it was the coffee but these strange thoughts kept
gathering in my mind. It was nothing I could put my arms
around. It was just this funny feeling.
I finally feel asleep, but the only reason I know that is
because I woke up when I smelled Ommi making cinnamon
rolls and coffee. So if I woke up, I knew Id been asleep. But it
sure didnt feel like it. There was a message on my phone.
C u n church.
I walked out to the porch and both Gommi and Ommi
were sitting on the swing just the way Id left them the night
before.
Maggies still gone, Gommi said.
Shell come back, Ommi said. You better go get
Ricky.
+
It was so foggy down in the hollow that the Bluegrass
looked all alone, like the woods and the river and the
campground had faded away and the world ended just a few

80

feet beyond the parking lot. The place always looked forlorn
on Sunday, like it was hungover and regretful for what was
said and done the night before. But today it looked lonelier
than usual and I had this crazy impulse to run in and check on
my dad to see that he was alright. But we bumped on up the
lane and as we made it to the rock house the sun broke through
the fog and the sky was blue and the air was crisp and I looked
at Gommi to see his reaction but he showed no appreciation at
all. There was no symbolism in Gommis world, and he
wouldnt know a metaphor if it smacked him on the ass.
We pulled up in front of the rock house and Dad came to
the door and I could tell hed spent the night there.
Rickys not going to church, he said.
Ricky was standing behind him in my mothers clothes
and she really had the water works going. Liz was there too,
trying to calm her down.
Who do you think you are, Jackson White? Ricky
yelled, tears pouring from her eyes. Youd best be real
careful. You got no idea who youre dealing with! You got no
idea at all!
Dad looked at Gommi. See? Is this what you want to
take to church?
FUCK YOU! Ricky screamed.
Im sorry you had to hear this, Hiram, Dad said. Im
sorry you had to see it.
Ricky exploded across the kitchen floor.
Maybe Dad heard her feet sprinting across the worn
linoleum, or maybe he saw the shock in our eyes, but in the
split second before Ricky made contact, he glanced over his
shoulder and saw what was about to hit him.
Ricky rammed her head into Dads back, sending him
flying off the kitchen step.
Come on! Come on! she yelled, hardly breaking her
stride as she jumped into Gommis truck. Lets go to
church!
We looked down Dad. He rolled over holding his
shoulder.
Take her, Liz said. Things wont get any better if she
stays.
+

81

You never knew what you were going to get at a

Separatist service because there was no plan. The Holy Ghost
was the preacher, and sometimes He showed and sometimes
He stayed away. Sometimes folks spoke in tongues. Other
times they sat around talking about the dangers, toils and
snares the devil had laid in their paths, punctuated by the
loudest singing and floor stomping you can imagine.
They were horrible singers, but they really loved to sing
and stomp because they thought it brought the Holy Ghost.
Because they thought He liked to hear them sing and stomp.
And who am I to say He didnt.
Ricky thought she had a killer voice and had very
definite opinions about music, most of which came from
Hank, so I was curious to hear her take on Separatist singing.
She had no visible reaction. Though she knew neither the
words nor the tune, she sang along like shed been attending
Separatist meetings all her life.
Were so blessed to have Ricky Blair with us this
morning, Gommi said at the end of the first song. And the
Separatists nodded. Yes, yes. Were so glad Ricky is here.
Has the Lord laid a message on anyones heart? Gommi
asked.
But no one said anything and I figured it was because
theyd heard how smart Ricky was and they didnt want to
embarrass themselves with how they spoke. So the silence
went on and eventually that got embarrassing too.
Then Wayne White cleared his throat.
Good ole Wayne. Hed found Christ a month ago after
nearly dying out on Damascus Road and was due to backslide
into spectacular sin any minute I figured.
I feel like I should talk, Wayne said. I feel like the
Holy Ghost is telling me talk. Wanda was sitting next to him
holding their baby, looking at Wayne like hed lost his mind.
His brother Dwayne, who got his brain scrambled in
Slobbovia, was sitting on the other side of Wanda.
I feel like the Holy Ghost brought you here, Wayne
said, looking at Ricky. Youve seen me at my very worst
down in the bar. Youve seen me drunk and youve heard me
say awful things and use vile language and I think I should say

82

Im sorry. I shouldnt have talked that way in front of a child.

The things I said shouldnt have been in my heart.
I can tell a great change has come over you, Ricky
said. Her hair was up under her bonnet but these faint little
delicate curls had fallen out and hung over the back of her
neck.
Can you? Wayne asked. Can you really?
Sure, Ricky said. Youve cleaned up your act a great
deal. Dwayne still has some work to do, but youre a much
better person in my estimation.
I looked around at the other guys. Didnt they notice
these wispy tendrils on her neck? Couldnt they see it? Were
they blind as well as stupid?
Im doing it for this little guy, Wayne said, nodding to
his baby.
Hes jes a widdle man, Dwayne said, wiggling his big
old finger at the baby. The infant latched on to the finger and
cooed.
See we was ridin home one night just as drunk as we
could be, Wayne said, when out of nowhere came this truck
with its brights on and the driver must have been drunk too
because he was coming right at us, so we hit the ditch and I
went one way and Dwayne went another and there I was
flying in mid-air and thinking I was going to die and never see
my baby again, or Wanda, or anything else. Then I was
waking up in the ditch with water running over me and I
thought sure Id killed my brother.
But I wasnt dead, Dwayne said. I was over in the
weeds.
Ricky crossed her legs and leaned forward. Did your
whole life pass before your eyes? she asked. They say your
whole life passes before you when you die.
No, Wayne said. Nothing like that happened.
But that might be because we didnt die, said Dwayne.
Everyone nodded at the wisdom of this statement.
I think me coming to church was exactly what the
doctor ordered, Ricky said.
Its what everyone needs, Wayne said.

83

Im sure youre right about that, Ricky said, but I

think its even more important for me, what with the hormones
surging and the Devil whispering in my ear every second.
The Devil whispers to you too? Dwayne said. Whats
he say?
Stuff about Josh.
Like what?
He says Josh would like it if I did this, or Josh would
like it if I did that. Just last week he told me Josh would get
really turned on if I pierced my bellybutton. I didnt know
what that meant so I did it. I iced up my bellybutton and stuck
a needle through and installed one of Moms earrings and sure
enough the Devil was right. Josh couldnt take his eyes off it.
Okay, Ike Heckewelder said. We dont need to hear
anymore.
Look at him, Matt Zeisberger said. I think hes
getting turned on now just thinking about it.
I wouldnt put it past him, Ricky said. Hes awful.
Did it hurt? Sister Vonhund asked. When you
pierced it?
You aint-a kiddin it hurt! Ricky said. But what was
even worse was how it made me feel later, after Id paraded
around in front of Josh while he got his eyes full. I just didnt
feel right about it. And now I know why. Josh, I know now the
Devil was using me to incite lust in your heart. Well heres the
deal: From now on, Im gonna be more than just the object of
your dirty desire. Im going to reflect Gods righteousness
also.
The Separatists exchanged glances as they parsed the
meaning of this declaration. Then, from out in the yard, a sad
howl arose.
Ommi got up and looked out the window. Oh no, she
said, and put her hands to her mouth.
+
We all ran out in the yard and there was Maggie pulling
herself across the grass with her front legs.
Dont look, Wayne said, moving in front of Wanda.
Go back inside. All you women. Go back inside.

84

The men gathered around the dog in a circle. She had no

eyes but she knew she was home because she had stopped
crawling.
It was Slobbs that done it, Dwayne said. I saw it in
Slobbovia, done to women and children. I didnt see it happen
because we woulda stopped it. But I saw it after it was done.
Gommi stroked Maggies head and the old dog seemed
to find some comfort in it.
Someone take care of her, my grandfather said,
walking away. I cant do it, but I want it done right and quick
so she dont suffer anymore. Theres a .22 behind the kitchen
door. You know where it is Josh. Do it right now.
+
The rest of the day was quiet. Dad said no one was
coming into the bar because they were home guarding their
property.
Wheres Hank? Ricky asked.
Hes delivering books, Liz said.
I want you two to sleep down here tonight, Dad said.
Just to play it safe.
So the girl I was supposed to stay away from would be
sleeping in the room next to mine.
All night I lay awake, feeling some crazy static coming
through the wall. Then the sun came up and it started getting
hot as hell in my room, it being the dog days of August. So I
just lay there, listening. Dad and Liz were already downstairs
working breakfast and by the sounds of things, we had a few
customers. But no one was laughing. It was just a steady
murmur of low voices. After a while I heard Ricky get up and
use the bathroom. Then she went back to her room and started
moving around. So I got up too.
Her door was open and she was standing on a couple of
books on a chair in her pajamas sticking Day-Glo star stickers
on the ceiling.
Who told you you could do that? I asked.
A little man in a black trench coat, she said. He wore
a gray fedora with a scarlet feather in it. An ibis feather if Im
not mistaken.

85

She went up on her tip toes to stick a star and when she
did her shirt came up and showed her belly with that little
golden ring.
Hand me another star, she said. Theyre on the bed.
The stars were all different sizes and shed written names
on them. I picked one up one and handed it to her.
Dad yelled for me to come down stairs as hed heard us
walking around no doubt.
Ricky reached up to attach the star and her navel was
right in front of me, and that gold ring caught the morning sun
coming through the window so that it sparkled and I could see
a faint line of fine blonde hairs, running down her flat belly in
a solid line of little vs until they disappeared under the elastic
waist band of her pajama bottoms.
And the smell of her! That smell. It was like a toothache
that you couldnt stop pressing with your tongue because it
felt so good in some strange way.
Josh! Dad shouted. We need you down here!
Up on the ceiling she already had stars for Liz and Dad.
Josh! The old man yelled from downstairs. Now!
+
I went down to the bar and the place was full of Sons of
Satan and Barbarian Bastards, which were the two main bike
clubs that hung out at the Bluegrass. They were also big
Resisters. They were watching some Resistance News
broadcast of looters running through some broken storefront
somewhere. And everyone who worked for dad was in the bar
too, even though they werent scheduled to be there. They
were just standing around watching looters on the tube, which
kept cutting in and out.
What do you want? I asked.
Look, Dad said, were having a special Market Day
and the deliverys gonna come early and were gonna need all
hands on deck, so be available, okay?
I hung around watching the tube, but it was the same
thing over and over again. Looting in Cincinnati. Then
Pittsburg. Then St. Louis. And all those places looked exactly
the same. I went out to the barn to work on my 883.
Id installed a new battery and new points and plugs and
changed the cables and the wires and still the thing wouldnt

86

turn over. So Id taken the motor apart and cleaned everything

with a wire brush and gasoline and was putting it all back
together, hoping I wouldnt have any parts left over.
So I was on my knees working on the bike and cars and
trucks started piling into the parking lot like crazy and the
people just sat there, waiting, and a couple of the Resisters
came out and tried to direct the parking because they didnt
like cars getting too close to their motorcycles. But the traffic
kept piling in for Market Day and after a while the guys rode
their bikes over to the campgrounds and let the cars have the
whole lot. Then the cars started stacking up in the
campgrounds.
Market Day was always busy, but Id never seen
anything like this.
Then Ricky, still in her pajamas, came flip-flopping
across the parking lot with a frosty beer mug full of water,
which was a welcome sight because it was already a real
scorcher and I was pretty thirsty.
I brought you some water, she said, and took a drink.
She handed the mug to me and I could see where her lips had
been. I turned the mug and drank from the same place, which
caused that little lopsided grin to come into the corner of her
mouth.
A lot of people for Market Day, I said.
Yeah, Ricky said. Hank keeps calling.
Whats he say?
Something about the traffic being bad or something.
Ricky! Liz yelled from porch of the Bluegrass. We
need you up here.
+
I got the motor back together and slapped on the engine
cover. I tried to kick it over but all it would do is sputter a few
times, then die. There was ignition, but not the will to live.
Then Matt Zeisberger drove up in a pick-up truck filled with
milk and eggs, all of it packed in Coleman coolers. Then Old
Zeisberger clomped in with his old horses, one white, one red,
pulling a wagon full of apples and sweet potatoes and the last
of the fresh corn and green beans. He had beets and green
peppers and canned jams and canned jellies and every kind of
cake and pie you could imagine. The Department of

87

Agriculture wouldnt let the Separatists sell their produce

anymore at roadside stands so they sold it through the
Resistance Exchange.
The Zeisberger boys and I went to work unloading the
truck and wagon while Dad and Old Zeisberger argued about
the comparative worth of an hour of labor against a Walking
Liberty silver dollar, which they did every Market Day
because Dad had accounts full of labor promissory notes but
the Separatists wanted silver or gold.
Look, Dad said to Zeisberger. Im going to tell you
this one last time. Nobody has silver. All they have is their
labor.
Zeisberger shook his head. The Separatists have enough
labor of their own, Jackson. They have no use for the labor of
others.
Well theyd better find a use for it because thats all I
got.
Boys, Zeisberger said. Stop unloading.
Thats right, boys, Dad said, take all that milk right
back to those cows and see how long it lasts. Eggs too. Tell the
Separatists to stuff em back up their chickens asses.
Jackson, please, Zeisberger said. Im not asking for
myself. Im asking for others.
I have labor piled up here, Dad said, tapping his
computer, and I need to clear it out.
You take the labor notes of children and old women
crippled with disease, Zeisberger said. How can they dig
fence posts? How can they clean barns? An hour of the labor
you have in your computer is not worth a silver quarter, but
alone a Walking Liberty. You know it and I know it. An
adjustment must be made to make it right. Farmers dont toil
to feed others. Farmers toil to feed themselves. I ask you, how
do they feed themselves with what you are offering?
This was the same argument Zeisberger and Dad had
every Market Day. It could go on for a while so I went
looking for Ricky.
+
She was sitting in the empty bar reading The Road to
Serfdom and making notes on a yellow legal pad. The
television over the bar was tuned into The Whoopsie Show.

88

President Egesta was on the couch with NBC news anchorman

Toure LeMay and old Whoopsie was asking Toure what it
was like to be named the worlds sexiest man by People
Magazine.
Dont mind me, President Egesta said, faking a miff.
Im just running for my second term in office.
Oh, how Whoopsies audience laughed. They laughed
and laughed and laughed. It was like Egesta had just said the
funniest thing anyone had ever said in the history of the world.
What does Liz think of you decoding Resistance
messages? I asked.
Ricky crossed her legs. She had on cut-off jeans that
were so short the pockets hung out over her thighs. She
doesnt seem to mind what she doesnt know about.
I sat on the stool beside her.
Ah really don know how t ass dis queshion,
Whoopsie said with a mischievous smirk.
Oh, Im sure youll find a way! President Egesta said.
The New York audience found this comment unbearably
hilarious. They howled like a pack of hyenas. It was creepy
how they just kept laughing.
Gimme that clicker, I said, reaching for the remote.
No way! I wanna watch this, she said, hooking her
little finger around mine. Ive got you in my vise-like grip!
Flight is impossible. Dont even try.
Welllll! Whoopsie said, making her trademark goofy
face at the camera. The audience screamed. Theyd been
waiting for Whoopsies trademark goofy face and there it was!
There it was! Ha-ha-ha! They were literally slapping their fat
thighs for the comedy of it. I wa jes jes wonneringif
dah rumors bout yous two
Maybe this will answer your question, Egesta said,
turning to Toure. The President sighed, smiled, then took the
anchormans face in his hands and kissed him on the mouth.
A sound came from the kitchen.
Duck! Ricky said, sweeping the book from the bar and
pushing my head into her lap.
Seen Josh? Dad asked through the service window.
He probably hiding somewhere, Ricky said. You
know how he is.

89

Well tell him we need him out front pronto. Like now.
Ill tell him if I see him, Ricky said.
I stayed there with my face in Rickys lap, my nose filled
with her scent, my ears full of the standing ovation coming
from the television.
Dis be one dose times when yous always member
where yo wuz when it happen, Whoopsie said.
You can get up now, Josh.
Ricky grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head up.
Damn! she said. Youre such a pervert.
I was disoriented, dizzy and breathless.
I neber tot I see dis moment, Whoopsie said, wiping a
tear from her eye. I neber ben so proud t be un Amurican!
+
Doyce Johnson was in the drive-thru trying to hand Dad
a big stack of bills.
Give me all the canned goods thisll buy, she said.
Were not taking paper money today, Dad said. You
know that Doyce. I dont even want it the property.
But its all Ive got, Doyce said.
How about gasoline? Dad asked. How much gas is in
your tank? Well barter gas.
So some of the guys got to work siphoning gas out of
Doyces tank, and some other guys loaded her up with jars of
beans.
Dad turned to me. Josh, go out and tell everyone in line
that we arent taking paper money. Tell them to leave if
theyre holding cash. And we arent taking labor either
because theres no market for it. Its all silver and gold and
barter.
Ricky had come out to the brew-thru. She was looking at
her reflection in the sliding glass of a beer cooler, not quite
dancing, but moving her hips a little and doing this thing with
her hands like an Egyptian.
Joshua! Dad said. Move!
So I went down the line of cars telling people we werent
accepting cash and that if they had any on them would they
please leave and everyone said they had gold or silver or
ammo or empty canning jars or something to trade but I
suspected they also had cash theyd like to dump. This girl

90

was in line, way back, not in a car but just standing there with
a rusty wheelbarrow with a baby in it.
You got something to trade? I asked her. She looked
awful. Shed been smacked around recently, as had the baby.
You could tell someone had really pummeled it.
Can I talk to your father? she said. Please. Just let
me talk to him.
Flip-flop-flip-flop. Come on, Ricky said to the girl.
Youre going to the front of the line.
+
The girl fell on her knees and tried to kiss Dads hand.
No, no, he said, pulling her up. Its not like that.
Her name was Aisha she said, and she had been one of
the pregnant girls wed pulled from the basement of Diversity
Estates after the tornado. She said shed run away so her baby
wouldnt be harvested for its bones. Then Feco and his
brothers came and took everything, Aisha said. He even
took the babys formula. I tried to stop them but they beat me.
Then they beat the baby. My milk has dried up and they took
our food and beat us.
Everyone looked at the baby. It was mostly dead, but
every once in a while it took a breath.
Old Zeisberger turned to Matthew. See if Maria
Stolzfus will come. Do it this way: Go to Alma Bontraeger
first. Tell Alma what we got here. Let Alma ask Maria.
So Matt left in the truck with a bunch of Resisters riding
shotgun behind on their motorcycles.
We took Aisha into the bar and laid the baby on the seat
of a booth and covered him with a blanket. Then we went
outside and continued filling orders.
And as the shelves emptied of one thing, they filled up
with ammunition and bottles of gasoline, and propane, and
rolls of duct tape, and toilet paper and tools. And people came
in and traded for that stuff too. Some had gold. Some had
silver. And some had canned goods. So everyone was trading
what they had for what they needed and with every trade, Dad
came out a little ahead on the deal. Like everyone else along
the line, he made a profit. Thats what kept the market moving
and providing the things people needed. Its not greed. Its

91

enlightened self-interest, and its what makes the world go

around. Understand that and you understand a lot.
Matt came back with Alma Bontraeger, Maria Stolzfus
and Marias baby. We turned the drive-thru operation over to
Wayne and Dwayne and hoped we didnt take too bad of a
skinning in the transition because the brothers, despite their
hard looks, were soft-hearted and people took advantage of it.
We took Alma Bontraeger and Maria Stolzfus into the
Bluegrass. Alma was a healer and on pretty intimate terms
with many of the Resisters, having patched them up and set
their bones and delivered their wives babies. She was a saucy
old dame who could give as good as she got so she was held in
high regard amongst the patrons of the Bluegrass. The
relationship worked for her in the Old Order Separatist
community too, I guess. Those motorcycle men who roared
past the Separatist buggies on their suicide machines saluted
when they saw Alma. She had ventured into their electrified
trailers in times of sickness and knew their savage children by
name. That made her a kind of cosmopolitan in her orthodox
congregation, a woman of a broader world.
Maria Stoltzfus was different. The drive to the bar was
one of the few times shed been in a motorized vehicle and as
she looked at the shelves of whiskey and the Resisters sitting
on the bar stools she held her baby a little closer.
The Resisters stared back at Maria. She was just a local
girl. Shed breathed the same air and drank the same water
that they breathed and drank. She was one of them, but in a
pure, ideal way. She was what they could have been if not for
the booze and drugs and the reckless pursuit of foolish desire.
She was what they wished they could get back to, so they
could do it right this time, and not hurt the people they loved
the most. Maria Stoltzfus was just a corn-fed Separatist girl,
but she was protective of her baby. Her eyes were blue, her
hair was blond and her breasts were full of milk. So the
Resisters got real quiet when Maria walked into the Bluegrass.
Hats came off. Someone muted the tube. They showed respect.
Alma went to Aishas baby and felt all the babys bones
and the baby just lay there limp as a noodle. Everyone in the
bar looked at Almas wrinkled old face trying to figure out
what her opinion was, and it didnt look good. Alma looked at

92

Maria and Maria looked at the baby and swallowed hard. But
Maria handed her own baby to Alma, picked up Aishas baby
and followed Alma back to the kitchen. Aisha, Liz and Ricky
fell right in behind them and the men in the bar stood there
looking useless.
Resistance channels back up, Tom Gibson said finally,
and turned the volume up.
The feed was evidently coming from one of those little
cameras that people clip to their hats. And the person with the
camera seemed to be running as fast as he could so that all you
could hear was his breathing and other people shouting in the
distance. It was pretty much a blur except for every once in a
while when the frame would freeze and you could see
buildings on fire and people running with stacks of shoe boxes
and bottles of wine.
What city do you think that is, Tucker?
Tucker Gibson had been a long haul trucker when that
was still possible.
Detroit, he shrugged. Maybe Baltimore. Its all the
same.
Turn it off, Dad said. Lets concentrate on what
weve got going on here.
+
Ricky held the kitchen door open and Aisha came out
with her baby in her arms, but you wouldnt know it was
Aishas baby because of the change that had taken place. The
baby was a couple of shades darker for one thing. And his eyes
were open and he was moving his little arms around.
Then Maria came through the door and Hannity jumped
up and started clapping and Maria looked down at the floor
and blushed. Then all the guys were on their feet cheering.
So Matt got up to drive Alma and Maria back to their
farms and Dad came around the bar and offered his hand to
both the women. Alma knew the drill but when Dad pressed
the coins into Marys hand she opened her palm and her mouth
fell open.
Oh, I cant take this, she said. But Dad closed her
fingers over the silver.
Out in the parking lot, a car screeched to a stop and
began blowing its horn. I looked out the window. The cars

93

headlights were shattered and the windshield was gone. Hank

Goins was behind the wheel with a big flap of scalp folded
back over his head.
+
It was an awful thing to see Hanks skull like that.
You should go to a real doctor, Alma said.
Cant, Hank said. His eyes were big as baseballs and
he was shaking like crazy.
Dad did a slow glance to the hood of the car and I
followed his eyes. Beneath the layer of dust, the hood was
splattered with blood, hair and fat.
Dad tried to open the drivers side door but it was stuck.
He gave it a yank and the door opened but Hank just sat there
because he couldnt get his fingers off the steering wheel. Dad
had to peel them off one by one then push him over in the seat,
which was full of broken glass.
Get a bottle of Beam and follow us up to the ridge,
Dad told me.
So Dad drove Hank and Liz up to the rock house and I
followed in the truck with Alma and Ricky sitting in the
middle with the Beam between her legs.
I helped Dad carry Hank in to the rock house and we laid
him down on a blanket on the floor as per Almas instruction.
Dad fixed himself and Liz a glass of ice and bourbon and
handed the bottle to Hank
You should have water, Alma said.
You gonna sew me up? Hank asked.
Yes, Alma said. After I wash you out.
Then Im going to have a drink, he said, tilting the
bottle back.
Hes going to need something to bite, Alma said.
Ricky came back with a dish towel and Alma rolled it up
it into a tight scroll and put it Hanks mouth.
Psycho started barking because some guys from the bar
were messing around with the car Hank had driven in. I went
out and watched them drain the oil and syphon most of the
gasoline out of the tank. Then I went with them when they
drove it out to Rocky Fork Lake. We drove it out on this old
timber road and right away got it stuck in the mud. So we had

94

to push it. We were leaving ruts and foot prints so anyone

could tell a car had been pushed through.
Then we got it to the shore and put it in neutral and laid a
rock on the accelerator so that the engine roared, but no one
wanted to reach in and jerk the gear shift down into drive.
Finally, Tom Gibson did it and the car took off and went
airborne when it hit the bank and flew out into the lake and
just sat there.
I swear I thought it was deeper than that, Tucker said.
So we rode back to the Bluegrass covered in mud. The
guys in the bar had the tube on but the Resistance channel was
still off so they were listening to network news which was
having orgasms about President Egestas gutsy proposal on
the Whoopsi Show and how an adoring nation might soon be
treated to an historic first-ever wedding in the White House if
President Egesta won re-election.
I threw my clothes in the washer and took a shower. Id
go back up to the rock house and hang out until just before
sunset, then Id go sit in my tree stand for a couple of hours. I
dried off, and walked down the hall toward my room with a
towel tied around my waist. Then, as I walked past the room
where Ricky stayed, I got this little whiff of her, a little ghost
scent.
I stepped into the room.
The falling sun broke through the window and cast a
golden rhombus on her unmade sheets. The smell was stronger
there. It wasnt the shampoo and the soap. It was that earthier
scent beneath it. It was the smell of her. I dropped my towel
and lay down on the bed, burying my face in the pillow shed
used. I dont know why. I just did. Eventually I rolled over and
looked up at the stars shed stuck on the ceiling and read the
names shed written on them. Jackson and Liz. Matt, Mark,
Luke and Faith. And directly over her bed, over her pillow,
was the biggest star of all, and on it she had written Joshua.
+
I walked back up to the rock house carrying my bow and
arrows. Hank was holding forth in Grandpas library to Dad
and a few Resisters. He had his head all sewed up and
everyone was listening to him because he just gotten beat half
to death but it was the same thing everyone had heard him say

95

a million times before. Ricky was sitting on the floor in those

cut-off jeans, checking her hair for split ends.
This war thats coming, Hank started, then stopped,
seized by pain, it could have been prevented if wed won
the culture war early on. Now an ignorant underclass is
pouring across the borders, insisting that the rest of us adopt
the very policies that caused the poverty and violence theyre
fleeing Any opposition is called racism
Hank closed his eyes, borne away by bourbon and
barbiturates. I took the occasion to pick up my bow and sneak
out of the house.
I walked up the lane and turned into the graveyard.
Thered been more chipping of the stones recently by souvenir
hunters. Kittys statue was not much more than a slender
needle now. Even my moms stone had been hit pretty hard.
So now the tombstones of all the Whites were
disappearing, going into the pockets of souvenir hunters who
wanted a part of us for no other reason than that wed been the
subject of some stupid movie that was made to make us look
bad but had somehow turned us into heroes instead. So Dad
filled the graveyard with beehives and put a sign on the gate.
Danger! Killer Bees! But the chipping continued.
I walked through the cemetery and into the woods to the
old Adena mound. There was a big oak that grew straight and
tall out of the middle and thats where I had my stand. I
climbed the tree, strapped myself in, pulled my bow up with
the utility line and just sat there looking out over the graves as
the sun went down. I took The Road to Serfdom out and
started deciphering the code but the message coming out just
wasnt floating my boat. In the distance, the light flickered on
over the parking lot of Serpent Mound. I thought how good it
was not to be thinking about Ricky and all that stuff that Id
lately been thinking about, so I was right back to thinking
about Ricky and all that stuff.
Thats when I heard something in the woods behind me.
A crackle of leaves. Then again. A squirrel gathering a last nut
before the foxes go on the prowl? There was the crisp snap of
a downed branch just behind a clump of honeysuckle.
That was no squirrel.

96

I leaned out over thirty feet of open air, pulling the line
of safety harness taut.
Then an underarm fart.
Luke Zeisberger loved the armpit fart as much now as
that awful day I taught it to him.
Halt! I called. Who goes there? Friend or foe?
Friend, one of the twins said.
Advance then and be recognized, I said.
Its what I always said when I met Mark and Luke in the
woods. Even if I can see them plain as day. Its like a script I
always go through because I get a kick out of it if you want to
know the truth.
The two stepped from the underbrush in homemade
ghillie suits that made them look like a couple of bushes. They
too carried bows.
Wherere all the deer? one of them asked.
I lowered my bow to the ground with a utility line. Its
too hot, I said, climbing down the tree.
Well where are they? They dont go inside to the air
conditioner, do they? They live out here in the woods, dont
they? Were in the woods. Why dont we see em?
Theyre not frisky yet, I said. They dont start
moving around till after a killing frost.
If they aint movin around then why dont we see
them standing still?
Yeah. Or layin down?
I dont know, I said. Why dont you think were
seeing them?
Because theyre not here.
Where are they then? I asked.
Thats what we asked you.
Theyre here, I said. If they arent here, whos
making those rubs on the trees and the scraps on the ground?
You dont know thats deer leavin those signs. Could
be possums.
Possums?
Can you prove it the other way?
We walked through the woods in the direction of the
Zeisberger farm.

97

Joshua? one of them asked. Do you want to go to the

public school?
Theres not going to be any public school, I said. The
shits hit the fan. Its the end of the world as we know it. A
nation without rule of law.
Both bushes shook their heads. Our Ommis neighbor
drives a bus for the public school and she says the school is
gonna open tomorrow just like it was planned. She said thats
how theyre gonna do it. She said the government and the
media says all this stuff thats happening isnt happening.
I shrugged. I dont know, I said. Maybe well have
school for a while. But it wont last. What cant go on forever
wont. And whats happening now cant go on much longer.
Are you scared to go? They say they make it hard on
guys like us.
Well be alright, I said. Well stick together and
watch each others backs.
It was dark by the time I parted ways with Mark and
Luke. They took the path down to Bell Hollow and I picked up
the gorge trail and took in back towards the graveyard. The
electrical grid had gone down again. I could tell because the
light at Serpent Mound was off. There was no way school was
going to open tomorrow, I thought.
Walking on down the path, I heard someone running up
behind me.
+
The funny thing about being in the woods at night is that
youre not afraid of animals because you know there arent
any animals thatll come at you. Its people you want avoid in
the woods at night. You never know what youre going to get
with a human.
But the moon was covered by a cloud and I was in camo
from head to toe, so I nocked an arrow, stepped behind a tree
and waited to see who it was who was coming up behind me at
such break-neck speed.
The runner sprinted by so fast that I saw not much more
than a shadow, her unadorned tresses flying disheveled,
leaving not much more that a breeze on my face and a scent in
the air.
Ricky?

98

It smelled like her, except this was the real deal. The
true, unadulterated fragrance of the girl, maximum strength
and pure, with no soap or shampoo doing the double dealing.
She shouldnt be out in the woods at night. I could
guarantee that shed snuck out of the house without Liz or Dad
knowing.
Ricky! I shouted. Its Josh! Wait up!
But her laughter seemed to float in a different dimension,
lilting away in all directions at once.
I ran after her all the way to Grandpas house, but it was
like she vanished into air. From the backyard, I saw that her
bedroom light was on.
I laid my bow down behind a tree, snuck up to the house
and looked in a ground floor window. Hank and Liz were in
the library with my Dad and a few Resisters. I looked up at the
open window and heard Ricky singing and strumming her
guitar. My hand closed on the main trunk of the ancient
wisteria that grew up the side of the wall and I began
climbing.
+
Ricky sat on a stool in front of her computer, an external
microphone reaching out on a homemade boom made of duct
tape and clothes hangers.
Personally, this next song isnt one of my favorites,
she said into the mic, but Ive had so many requests from my
fans that I cant ignore them any longer.
She launched into this Kitty White song that she always
sang with Hank and she was really banging it out when a
guitar string broke.
Shit, she said.
She replayed her aborted performance and watched
herself in the mirror, singing along with her own voice and
dancing the way Kitty did in those old videos.
Ricky kicked off her shoes as she danced. Her t-shirt
came off over her head and she shook out all of that long hair.
Then, finally, a single shove down from her hips put her shorts
down around her feet. And she did this all without missing a
beat.
Shed spent much of the summer in a pink bikini and
where the sun had gotten to her she was as dark as an Apache.

99

But on her chest were two little pyramids of snow-white skin

with pink peaks in the middle. Below her waist, the pyramids
were reversed, the larger creased by the cleft of her butt; the
smaller one bisected by a narrow line of hair not much wider
than a crows feather and just as dark.
She wrapped a towel around herself and padded off to
the bathroom, turning out the light as she went.
I hung there in the window as the moon came out from
behind a cloud. Then, with muscles quivering, I watched as
my moon-shadow climbed through the window.
There were the clothes shed just shed.
I kneeled, inspecting what lay before me: one garment
nested in another. This is wrong, I told myself. This is total
depravity. This is the kind of thing Omni had been warning me
about all my life without saying it in so many words. This was
temptation right before my eyes.
I heard Ricky coming back down the hall so I snatched
her panties and one of her socks and was almost out the
window before she switched on the light.
Hey! she said. Come back here!
+
I jumped from the window, scooped up my bow and ran
down the lane. Dont ask why I did what I did. I cant explain
it. I knew the thing was wrong, but it was irresistible.
I ran down the hill and bottomed out in the hollow and
kept right on running out into the field where people camp
during the Leaf Festival but that had just been mowed of its
last hay of the season. I ran to the middle of the field and lay
down on a row of new mown clover, still warm from a day in
the sun. I took Rickys things and looked at them in the
moonlight. I held them to my face.
I lay back and looked at the sky and breathed the smell
of the clover filtered through her smell.
Across the field in the Bluegrass Bar, a recording of a
Hank Goins/Kitty White duet was playing. Id heard the song
a thousand times, that old song about shameless love, pathetic
love, love with no pride. Id gown up hearing that song and
knew every note by heart. But it was like I was hearing it for
the first time because I finally realized what an awful thing

100

they were singing about. It was about losing yourself in

passion and desire and never wanting to be found again.
I felt her scent invade my brain cell by cell until my will
power was dead and my body and soul was a wholly owned
subsidiary of Ricky Blair. So it was settled, I told myself. The
long battle was over. I was going to hell. So I pushed her
things into my mouth and did my best to extract the last
molecule of that most sinful flavor.
+
I went to bed and waited for Dad to come home.
Sometime after midnight I heard him drive down from the
ridge and come into the bar. After a few minutes, he pushed
my door open and sat down at my desk by the window.
He sat a glass down and lit a cigarette. The moon shining
through the window gave his bourbon an odd glow. He inhaled
the smoke and blew it out slowly.
You awake? he said.
Yeah, I said. I had Rickys things in my hand.
See anything while you were hunting?
No, I said.
Theyre going to start school tomorrow. Theyre
pretending everything is normal.
Are we going? To school?
Yeah, Dad said. Were pretending everything is
normal too. But I want you to be careful. Fly under the radar
and look out for Ricky.
First he tells me to stay away from her, now he tells me
to watch out for her. Down in Bainbridge a single siren wailed.
Have you figured out the code of The Road yet?
Yeah, I said. I deciphered a little of it in the tree
stand tonight.
Good, Dad said. Stay at it.
+
I was awake the next morning when the alarm rang. I
got dressed, went downstairs for a cup of coffee, then went
back to my room.
My mind was going a mile a minute what with Ricky
due to show up any second. Then Lizs truck rumbled into the
parking lot and I saw Ricky looking right up at me in my
window with that arrogant little sneer she got when she solved

101

a calculus problem faster than I did. I stayed in my room for a

while but avoidance is never the answer. So I went down to
the kitchen and she was standing at the grill, one hand on her
hip, the other holding a spatula. Im having bacon and eggs,
she said. Want some?
Yeah, I croaked, my voice sounding weird.
Yeah, Ricky croaked in imitation.
She slapped the grill with the bacon, let the fat melt a
little, then cracked the eggs and poured them out right on top
of the sizzling meat.
She turned and looked at me and I thought uh-oh.
Then she gave me that smile again.
Toast? she asked.
Yeah, said I.
She took four pieces of bread and threw them down on
the grill. When the edges of the eggs started to bubble she ran
the spatula under them and turned them over. Then she
scooped up the bread and flipped it over on the greasy spot the
bacon and eggs had just left.
Thats the way Ricky and I have done bacon and eggs
since we were little kids. There are no scrambled eggs or
sunny side up or eggs over easy. There are just bacon and eggs
fried together like this.
I got a couple of plates and put them on the counter. I
poured myself some orange juice and some chocolate milk for
Ricky.
We have to pack our lunches, Ricky said, sliding the
bacon and eggs onto the plates. Mom says not to eat anything
they give us at school so what do you want? Mom says it
should be something nutritious so I was thinking peanut butter
and jelly? Ill put it on whole wheat and throw in a couple of
apples to keep her happy. You want two sandwiches?
Yeah.
Is yeah the only thing you have to say for yourself this
morning?
What do you have in your backpack?
Stuff for school, she said, slathering jelly on her toast.
My notebook. A book to read if things get slow. Pens.
Pencils. Stuff like that. Do you have anything you want to say
to me?

102

They do everything on computers at school, I said.

Papers not allowed. Pencils neither.
Then I say Molon Labe! Theyll take my pencil from
me when they pry it from my dead, cold hand! Do I have milk
on my lip?
Yeah.
She wiped it off with her tongue. Gone now?
+
We packed our lunch and went out and stood by the road
waiting for the bus.
Can I ask you a personal question? she said.
No, I said. You can shut the hell up, okay?
Well its about my panties. You didnt take them to
wear them, did you?
What? It made me so mad I would have smacked her
if she wasnt a girl.
Answer my question, Joshua White. Are you or are you
not a tranny?
The bus screeched to a stop and we got on and this fat
guy in a red Fairness Union t-shirt was in our faces right away.
Assignseee, he mumbled in lingo. You tde ba a de
bus, he said, looking at me. You be wit me, he said, leering
at Ricky.
Peepers? I said, noticing his chewed ear and the chunk
missing from his lip. Peepers Potok?
Peepers had disappeared into his moms trailer to play
video games several years ago and in the interim had evidently
gone Slobb. His hair was Slobb. His clothes were Slobb. But
he wasnt a real Slobb, even though he wore the fetal bone in
his nose. He was a wannabe. He was a Wobb.
Yo mah babee now, he said to Ricky, shoving her into
his seat.
+
You have to wonder about a guy like Potok. Somehow
he thought the world changed once he started talking lingo, or
put on that Fairness Union t-shirt with the Helping Hand pin.
Or maybe it was the bone in the nose that empowered him.
But listen: You can never let yourself be bullied. If you
do, every asshole in the country will think youre a punching
bag. So you always have to fight back, even if you know

103

youre going to lose. Dont tell a teacher or a Fairness Worker

that you are being bullied. They will do nothing. In fact, they
are likely to be the bully.
Instead, fight back immediately. And throw all youve
got into it. Everything.
Let someone bully you and theres no end. Fight back
and, even if you lose, they leave you alone. Believe me on this
one, boys and girls. You are the only one responsible for your
defense and the defense of those you love. Let the
government become your defender and you become a slave.
+
I planted a hard left jab on Peepers ear.
Wha da he said, before I threw a roundhouse right
into his flabby jowl.
Bam!
Peepers sat down on his ass right there in the aisle.
Get up! I said. I wanted to go to the back of the bus
and sit with the two Jessis but Peepers sat there babbling some
incomprehensible lingo shit, his fat ass blocking my way.
Stop talking like that! I yelled. I dont know why it
bothered me so much, but it really got on my nerves. And
take that fucking bone out of your nose!
I reached down and yanked the fetal femur from
Peepers snout, and thats when things got bloody.
+
I didnt hold the bone for long, so I cant say I inspected
it carefully, but Im pretty sure it had been cut into two pieces
with an attached male post fitting into a circular female clasp
hidden inside the nostril. So when I jerked the bone out of
Peeperss nose, the clasp ripped out a hunk of meat about the
size of an orange seed.
Youd have thought Id just stabbed the moron with a
steak knife the way he carried on, screaming and bleeding.
You stupid fat bastard! I said. Get out of my way,
goddamn you!
But he was all wrapped up in himself, so I booted him. I
gave him a good side kick. When he still didnt move, I kicked
him harder and harder and harder until the dumbass
finally pulled himself into the floor space of an empty seat.

104

You touch her again and Ill kill you, you dumb
sonofabitch! I swear to God, I will hunt you down like a
fucking rat and beat your flabby fat ass to death!
Then I gave him another good boot just to make my
point.
Ricky and I went to the back of the bus and sat in a seat
adjacent to the two Jessis.
Everyone was quiet, looking at me or at Peepers, all
humped up and blubbering. The bus driver was mumbling
something into his phone.
Good morning, Joshua, Jessi Gipson smirked. And
welcome back to public school!
You just made a grand first impression, said Jessi
White. And first impressions are so important in todays
society! She turned her gaze on Ricky and her eyes went
dead. Youre that kid everyone talks about, she said with
disdain.
Everyone talks about me? Ricky asked.
I dont talk about you, Jessi White said. Ive just
heard other people say youre just a regular bitch who sings
at the bar and thinks youre hot shit.
Fuck em, Ricky shrugged. If they dont have the
guts to say it to my face I couldnt care less what cowards say
behind my back.
The two Jessis exchanged careful glances, assessing
every aspect of the answer.
This scrawny kid bounced into the seat in front of us.
You guys are so badass, he said. Id seen him around,
limping down roads, but had never talked to him. He had a
deformed hip that made him rock from side to side when he
walked.
Thanks, Ricky said. Whats your name?
PeeWee Cohen, the kid said. Thats what everyone
calls me. PeeWee.
Do you like it? Ricky asked. Being called PeeWee?
No, he said.
Then what do you like to be called?
Well, my name is Levi.
Glad to meet you, Levi, Ricky said offering her hand.
My name is Ricky.

105

The bus rolled down out of the hills and into the Paint
Creek Valley, past the walled enclosure of Servants Quarters
where the children of essential government workers had their
own school to where Diversity Estates sat like a boil on the
otherwise smooth skin of the flood plain. Since the tornado,
the government had trucked in prefabricated modules that
could be stacked by a crane, one on top the other, and side by
side like giant Lego pieces, three stories, four stories, five
stories, six until Diversity Estates had a population four
times the size of the housing project that had been destroyed.
And still the government stacked the modules one on top the
other and crammed in newly made Slobbovian-Americans just
ahead of the election.
The bus stopped. The door yarned. But no students were
waiting to get on. After a minute, some chubby guy came out
of a ground floor module and ambled toward the bus, his
greasy pompadour piled high on his head, his leisurely saunter
a cross between a peacocks strut and a hogs waddle.
Thats Feco, Jessi Gipson said. Hes a real asshole.
Ricky looked at me. Thats Feco, she said. Thats the
guy who raped Aisha.
Feco was decked out in mascara and bracelets and rings
and, of course, the fetal bone in the nose. And he wore a tiny-t
Fairness Union shirt that stopped just beneath his boobs so
that his gut was on display, hanging out over his skin-tight
capris.
He looks like hes about thirty, Ricky said.
Hes a Fairness Worker, Levi said. Going to school is
his job.
Other kids lumbered from the modules, slowly,
arrogantly, their faces plastered with make-up and carrying a
good thirty to forty pounds of excess paste around their
middles.
Holy cow, Ricky said. What are they feeding those
kids, fried lard? And whats up with the face paint?
Theyre dressed like their favorite Gaia Dancers, Jessi
Gipson said. See how they bob their heads? They think its
cool. Do it, Jessi. Jessi White waggled her head from side to
side, her eyes taking on an oblivious gaze. Thats it! Thats
the Slobb bob! Isnt that funny?

106

The kids boarded the bus. Slobb kids. Wobb kids. And
they all talked AS LOUD AS THEY COULD! And they didnt
talk with each other; they talked at each other. Everyone was
pitching at the top of their lungs but no one was catching.
No Slobb girls, Jessi White said. When a Slobb girl
turns twelve they slice off her clitoris and make her wear a
blanket over her head. And they arent allowed to go to school
or learn to drive but youre not supposed to mention it because
its racist for Western Civilization to judge another culture, no
matter how nasty and vile that other culture might be.
Ricky looked at me and I knew she was thinking about
Aisha and her baby Tony, who were staying with Ommi and
Gommi and being taught by Liz.
The bus drove through Bainbridge and pulled into the
school and sure enough there was a welcoming party of thugs
in Fairness Union shirts waiting there.
Now youre gonna get it, Joshua Jessi White said, as
the thugs pushed through the flow of students trying to exit the
bus.
Heres a back door, Ricky said, jerking the handle
down. An alarm went off and we all jumped out and ran across
the parking lot toward the doors where the kids were piling
into the school. Me, Ricky, the two Jessis, and Levi Cohen
bringing up the rear with his limp.
+
Everyone into the gym! the teachers at the doors
shouted. Find your homeroom and get a trophy and a drop!
So we did our best to blend in and go with the flow.
Ill probably get expelled today, I told Ricky You do
something to get expelled too.
Not gonna happen, Jessi White said. They arent
allowed to expel you. We wouldve been gone a long time ago
if they were allowed to expel kids.
In the gym, homeroom teachers held signs bearing their
last names. Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco was the teacher of the
Behavior Disorders Unit and it didnt take me long to find
her. She was big as a house.
Gramsci, Ricky said, checking her schedule and
finding the corresponding sign. Thats my teacher over
there. Remember what Mom told us. Dont eat anything they

107

give you. They put zombie drugs in it, so dont eat it!
Right?
Right, I said.
Okay, she said. I guess this is it!
Dont take any wooden nickels, I said, and watched
her walk across the gym. Then I climbed the bleachers to
where Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco stood holding her sign.
+
Name? Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco asked. She had two
chubby gals in red FU shirts helping her.
Joshua White, I said.
Heres your trophy! Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco said,
handing me this chintzy little plastic cup about the size of a
shot glass. Your the best! it said and inside was something
that looked like an M&M. I pretended to put the drop in my
mouth but I really palmed it.
I sat down next to this kid and he seemed pretty much
out of it. On the other side of the gym I saw Faith Zeisberger
sitting apart from her homeroom in the bleachers as all the
other kids seemed to be shunning her. Or maybe she was
shunning them. It was hard to tell. She was waving, having
already spotted me, so I gave her the thumbs up.
The gym was pure chaos what with everyone throwing
those little trophies around. They were all over the gym floor,
crushed to smithereens. After a while this old tranny got up on
stage and said his name was Ms. Johnson-Johnson. He wore a
dress and a blonde wig, but he was obviously a man. Lets
everybody find their homeroom teachers! he said in this
weird falsetto. Lets take our morning drops so we can start
dancing! Union workers, help the new students out! We have
lots of new students wholl need lots of help this year!
No one paid attention to him. Everyone just kept talking
and milling around as if he wasnt even speaking. It was quite
rude really, but Ms. Johnson-Johnson seemed used to it.
On behalf of the guidance office, Ms. JohnsonJohnson said, Id like to welcome you to and he went on
with the kind of bullshit youd expect to hear. ... and thanks
to President Egesta we now have spray booths so your skin
can be the exact shade of your identity race! No more makeup!

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Weve got lots of fun things planned for this year so lets find
our teachers and drop our drops!
Then the lights dimmed, a screen descended from the
ceiling, and a video began with a tribal beat throbbing over the
speakers. Shake, shake, shake! Shake, shake, shake! Shake
yo butty! Very Well!
On the screen, a jet fighter did loop-de-loops and barrel
rolls. Then it landed, the cockpit opened, and this guy with a
bone in his nose and mascara around his eyes, smiled and
saluted.
Scat! the students in the gym screamed. And all the
kids dressed like Scat waddled out on the gym floor and
started shaking their fat butts.
Then a convertible sped down the runway. The driver
slammed on the brakes and did three 360s before skidding to a
stop in front of the fighter.
Maliq!all the kids shouted as the camera focused on
the African-American kid driving the car. Scat jumped in to
the car, planted a kiss on Maliqs mouth and all the kids
dressed like Maliq ran out on the gym floor and started
gyrating with all the Scats.
The onscreen Maliq, with Scat in the passenger seat,
sped down the runway when all of a sudden this girl with a
green streak dyed in her hair ran up beside them. She smiled at
the two boys in the convertible, then left them in a cloud of
dust.
Shaneeka! everyone yelled, and all the Shaneekas in
the bleachers, identified by the green streak dyed in their hair,
took to the gym floor.
The scene shifted to the inside of the hanger, where all
we could see was a pair of hands flying over a collection of
computer keyboards. From the computer screens, we see that
the owner of these amazing hands is playing chess with
multiple remote opponents, all of whom are older, white men.
Every screen suddenly flashed with the word checkmate!
and the camera climbed to show the self-satisfied face of a
beautiful Asian girl, who whipped off her glasses and back
flipped out to the tarmac to dance with the others.

109

Xiang Xua! cried the students in the gym, as those

students with their eyes made up to look Asian left the
bleachers for the hardwood.
So half the student body was out on the basketball court
trying to dance - shimming left, shimming right - shaking their
ample asses in unison with Scat, Maliq, Shaneeka and Xiang
Xua up on the silver screen, when two more characters
emerged from the hanger, wandering aimlessly. The boy was
blond, slack-jawed with his shirt buttoned in the wrong holes.
The girl was buck-toothed, red-haired and freckled.
The Gaia Dancers sang, Shake, shake, shake! Shake,
shake, shake! Shake yo groove thang! Dick and Jane! And
they pointed to the blond boy and the red-haired girl, who
gratefully tried to join in the dance, though they had no sense
of rhythm and made fools of themselves with their spastic
jerking.
The same thing happened in the gym with the dancers on
the floor pointing up to the kids still in the bleachers. Except
the kids in the bleachers declined the invitation to join the
choreography. I spotted Ricky sitting with the two Jessis both
of whom were giving the finger to those down on the floor.
Thats when Peepers Potok, Feco and a bunch of
Fairness Union thugs came through the gym door and it was a
lead-pipe cinch who they were looking for.
+
Dont shoot, I said, raising my hands. Ill go
peacefully.
They took me to the principal, who looked like a
weasel, and seated next to him was the guy from the gym,
Ms. Johnson-Johnson. Behind them several closed circuit
televisions monitored empty halls.
Im Dr. Alinsky, the weasel said, and this is Ms.
Johnson-Johnson.
I could tell he thought I would be intimidated by the
Doctor bit. He said it like I was supposed to go, oh, hes a
doctor! Id better not mess with him! The problem was, I
knew he was a bullshit doctor. He was a doctor of education,
or sociology, or gender studies, not a physician or a professor
of nuclear physics. But he figured I was so dumb I wouldnt
know the difference. Stuff like that really gets on my nerves

110

and I could feel my Oppositional Defiance Disorder kicking

in big time.
Glad to meet you Doctor Alinsky, I said, offering my
hand. Im Doctor White, Doctor of Doctology.
I could see it really pissed him off.
Well, Doctor White, Johnson-Johnson said, let me
show you a video of what you did to a boy on the bus this
morning.
Ms. Johnson-Johnson hit a button and a screen on the
shelf behind him came to life.
The camera angle and the picture resolution were quite
impressive. My left jab went out in slow-mo and really
knocked old Peepers back on his heels. You could see his
head snap and his eyes roll back for an instant. Then I
stepped in and put everything into that roundhouse right.
Hips, torso, shoulders, arm, fist. POW! I hit that asshole so
hard that his gunked-up hair straightened out on his head and
his jowl flab shook like jello.
Count the blows visited upon this poor child, Ms.
Johnson-Johnson said. Onetwo threefour He
closed his eyes in disgust, his hairy nostrils flaring like they
were collecting the worst smells of the world. What do you
have to say for yourself, Doctor White?
I say you need to rewind the tape and show Peepers
shoving a girl into a seat sod shed have to sit with him.
Dr. Alinsky and Ms Johnson-Johnson laughed this
phony laugh. Your words dont even make sense, JohnsonJohnson said.
They looked at each other and laughed again. It was a
strange, mirthless laugh that never reached their eyes.
Theres nothing funny, I said. Rewind the tape and
youll see the reason I hit Peepers. He had it coming. He
deserved it. He pushed a girl down. Rewind the tape.
Nothing could justify the beating you gave that boy,
Ms. Johnson and Johnson said.
Wrong, I said. There are all kinds of things that
justify such a beating. Rewind the tape and youll see one.
We have no interest in rewinding the tape, JohnsonJohnson said.
You have no interest in the truth then.

111

This brought forth another bogus laugh from Alinsky

and Johnson-Johnson. It was like the sheer act of them
laughing at something made it meaningless, like their silly
ridicule had the power to change reality.
Whats so funny? I asked.
You speak of truth, Alinsky said. Could you define
truthfor us?
The truth is whats on the tape before I hit Peepers, I
said.
Isnt the truth that you just wanted to hit an Upper
Slobbovian-American boy?
Peepers isnt a Slobb, I said.
Alinsky and Johnson-Johnson drew back in horror. But
you could tell it was a phony horror. A feigned outrage. We
say Upper or Lower Slobbovian- American, Dr. Alinsky
huffed, whichever the case may be.
I remembered Liz telling me how these people always
tried to manipulate language and how the nomenclature of the
Slobbs was a prime example. First it became racist to call
them Slobbs, even though that had always been their name,
even in the Slobb language. But that was thrown down the
memory hole and you had to call them Slobbos. Then that
became racist too. So you had to say Slobbovians. But there
soon developed a problem there as well. There were Upper
Slobbovians and Lower Slobbovians and both groups
demanded to be identified by this breakdown even though it
was an indistinguishable distinction. So now everyone was
supposed to say Upper Slobbovian-American or Lower
Slobbovian-American and hope you got it right because if
you didnt you were a racist.
Liz said it was a leftist linguistic scam. Liz said the left
was always monkeying around with the language like that.
She said the left took over the word liberal, for instance,
which used to mean someone who wanted maximize
individual freedom by limiting the power of government.
If Mr. Potok self-identifies as an Upper Slobbovian,
Johnson-Johnson asked, then who are you to say he isnt?
Someone who understands genetics, I said. Someone
who knows Peepers mom and remembers when his
worthless dad ran off. So, no, Peepers is no Slobb. Just like

112

you arent really a woman. You and Peepers may not like
what you are, see, but that doesnt change what you are. Hate
to break it to you. And if you watch the whole tape, youll
see what qualified him for an ass-kicking. But youve seen
the whole tape, havent you? Youve seen Peepers push
Ricky just like I saw him push her. So you know youre lying
about Peepers being innocent. You know I know youre lying.
But youre going to keep lying anyway because thats how
you operate.
Johnson-Johnson reached for that strange, mirthless
laugh again, but the wind was out of it. Then the fire alarm
went off.
+
I followed the crowd through the hall and out the door to
the parking lot where the student body was in total disarray.
The drops had kicked in so everyone was just drifting around
aimlessly, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.
Hey, Joshua!
I turned and saw Ricky and the two Jessis running my
way. Some teacher in a triple-x smock tried to head them off
but they easily dodged her.
Jessi pulled the fire alarm! Ricky said, rendered
breathless by such boldness. What did they do to you?
Suspended for ten days and banned from the school bus
for life, I said. Dad is on his way to pick me up now.
+
Since I wasnt going to school, Dad asked me to work
the kitchen because he was short-handed what with Liz taking
care of Hank, who wasnt doing so well. So I was at the grill
when Ricky came down from the ridge the next morning.
You want me to make you breakfast? I asked.
Ill do it, she said.
I liked watching Ricky crack eggs and pour them out on
the grill. I liked her fingers and the way she moved her wrists.
She knew I liked to watch so she did in a slow, deliberate way.
How was your first day at school? I asked. I hadnt
had the chance to talk to her alone before now because a
bunch of Resisters from Columbus were camping in the
campgrounds and we had to mess with them.

113

There are these big beanbag chairs, she said, except

they dont have beans in them. They have plasma. The whole
bag is plasma and when you sit in it the plasma is all around
you. Then you put on this headset that covers your eyes and
ears and you play this weird game where you are one of the
Gaia Dancers and multiple choice questions pop up and you
have to answer them to score points and keep the game going.
Then every few minutes the game pauses and you have to do
some candyass yoga. Thats when you get your drops. For
every fifty points you score, you get a drop.
She ran the spatula under the eggs and bacon, turned
them over, then anointed the cooked side with hot sauce.
I dont get the plasma part, I said.
Its real warm, she said. And it rocks to the beat of
the music so you feel like youre dancing when youre just
lying there. And it shakes you when there are explosions or
gunfire.
Gunfire?
Yeah. The Gaia Dancers are always helping
marginalized minority people who are being attacked by white
guys in pickup trucks. I kid you not.
Did you earn any drops?
Hell yeah I earned drops. Gave em to some kid. He
threw em in his mouth and when we broke to do yoga the
next time he could barely move.
When it was time for her to wait for the bus, I stood with
her at the side of the road.
It seems like just yesterday we were here, Ricky said.
The bus pulled up and the driver got this terrified
expression like I was going to come on and raise hell again.
Ricky got on the bus and I saw Peepers through the window,
his nose bandaged and his face so swollen that his eyes were
little red slits. But he wasnt telling anyone where to sit and he
didnt have his Fairness Union shirt so I felt like maybe Id
done him some good.
I went back to the kitchen but it was pretty well staffed
now that Dwayne was on the job. So I poured myself a big
mug of coffee and went out to look at the 883. It was such a
good looking bike. It was a shame it wouldnt run.

114

I threw my leg over the saddle, turned on the key, and

came down on the kick start. The bike coughed once, then
died. I goosed the throttle and came down on the starter again.
The bike coughed again, but this time, its coughing continued.
I sat in the saddle and felt the sluggish struggle of the
pistons. I twisted the throttle ever so slightly and felt the
engine come to life. I felt the gasoline coursing through the
chambers and arteries of the motor. I felt the disparate parts
from two dead bikes come together and live again. I rolled
back the throttle and let them sing with joy.
I pulled in the clutch.
The gear made a solid clunk when I pushed it down into
first.
I rolled the bike through the barn door and out to the
gravel parking lot. The guys in the bar came out and stood on
the steps, clapping.
I took the road south to Sinking Springs, taking it easy,
listening to the motor, trying the brakes, running up and down
through the gears. At Locus Grove I took a right and saw the
road rise up in front of me in a long gradual curve up to the
Serpents Promontory. I rolled back on the throttle and the
bike stepped up accordingly. I rolled back a little more, and
the bike was right there with me, the wind in my hair, the
engine roaring in my ears.
We ate that road up. It disappeared under us and was
gone. I took it up as far as I could and Im not ashamed to say
I ran out of courage before I ran out of throttle.
I cruised up to Serpent Mound. There was a guy at this
little booth in the middle of the access road to collect
admission but I blew right by him. I rode up on the grass and
skirted the coils of the snake, stopping at the look-out.
The 883 went tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump and I
could feel the throb enter my crotch and go up through my
guts and into my pounding heart - tha-thump, tha-thump.
I sat there and looked out over the gorge and the river,
over the fields and farms and Fort Hill in the distance. I sat
there and felt the throb of an engine Id put together with my
own hands. I smelled the sweet perfume of its exhaust.
All the neo-pagans and New Age pilgrims hanging out at
the serpent were shocked at the sacrilege of me riding a

115

motorcycle onto the grounds. Through my rearview mirrors I

could see them marching on me like a lynch mob of Looney
Tune characters. I pushed back from the lookout and was
going to leave when I decided it was a better idea to run the
pilgrims around the grounds a little.
I goosed the bike up over the serpents coils and headed
straight for my pursuers. It was classic they way they ran.
Hands in the air, screaming. AAAH! AAAH! I went after
one, then another, choosing my targets for their obesity and
lack of agility.
Its my snake! I yelled as I veered away from them at
the last moment. My snake! And to make my point, I rode
up one side and down the other the whole quarter mile length
of the thing. Then I turned around and rode back even faster,
going airborne from the top of the serpents back.
I roared down the hill and took a right turn on Strait
Creek Road. Then I took another right into a fire road and
cruised through the gorge. I rode up the trail to the White
family cemetery. I rolled through the gate, past the beehives
and the featureless obelisk that was once Kitty Whites statue.
I stopped in the far corner at my moms grave and just sat
there a minute.
The idle piston fire of a V-twin motor mimics the very
first sound a person hears in life. It recalls the very first
sensation a person feels. Its what you hear and feel when
youre in your mothers womb. Its the beat of her living heart.
I did it, Mom, I said. I got it going.
+
I pulled the bike into the barn and went into the
Bluegrass.
That was a long ride, Dad said. Howd she do?
Great, I said.
Whered you go?
Serpent Mound.
Anything happening up there?
The usual.
Aisha cant help out because Tony has the croup and
Wayne and Dwayne need to get the campground in shape for
the festival. Hanks not doing well at all so Liz is with him.
So you want me to run the kitchen?

116

Could you do it by yourself?

Time and a-half?
Deal.
So I ran the grill and deep fryer and kept the dishwasher
going. It was pretty much hamburgers and fries but around
1:00 the place got really busy and I was working my ass off. I
was jumping. But I always liked working the rush by myself.
I get a buzz off it, and while I did it I thought about other
things I wanted to do.
Then, at about 1:45, all the orders were out and the
dishes started coming back.
Way to hustle, the old man said through the service
window.
So I started running the dishes. I was watching the clock
because pretty soon Ricky was going to be home from school.
The thing was, bus pans full of dishes were backed up behind
the dishwasher, which only cycled so fast, and after you jerked
the dishes out they were so hot you couldnt touch them till
they cooled down. So it was a slow process. But everything
had to be washed so it could be used again at dinner.
I heard the school bus stop outside so I cracked the door
and saw Ricky walking across the parking lot toward the lane
that went up to the rock house.
The rinse cycle was about to end so I hung around until
it was finished, yanked the clean dishes out, shoved in another
drainer full of dirty dishes, then stacked the hot dishes so as to
free the drainer, which I then filled with another load of dirty
dishes.
My phone vibrated. Run at 3 the text said.
I short washed that load of dishes and pushed another
dirty load in. I rinsed the hot dishes off with the hand spray to
cool them. They were clean enough for who they were for.
I looked through the service window and saw Dad at the
cash register getting ready to drop some money through the
floor into the safe. Dad, I said, Im not the type guy to run
out without saying anything to anybody. I hope you appreciate
that.
Then I hit the door.
+

117

I roared up the lane on that 883. I guess it wasnt much

of a secret where I was headed.
Ricky was in the yard stretching. I downshifted to first
gear and pulled up next to her.
Wow! she said. You got it running! I love how it
sounds!
Hop on and Ill give you a ride.
Ricky climbed on behind me and the rear wheel threw
dirt as we headed up the trail. We bounced onto the grass of
the graveyard and I shut the bike off and pushed down the
kickstand. I got off and Ricky slid right into the drivers seat.
She picked the bike up and balanced it between her feet,
leaning it back and forth to get the feel of it, turning the front
wheel left and right.
Teach me how to drive it. That can be my birthday
present.
You got it, I said.
Wow! she said. I dont want to get off!
But she did.
+
The grass looks so soft, she said, pushing her shoes
off.
We stopped at one of the bee hives and Ricky opened the
lid and took out a frame of honey. Were gonna have a huge
harvest this fall, she said.
Its all the rain, I said. Its all the wild flowers.
Ricky returned the frame to the hive, replaced the lid,
and we walked on.
Those kids at school are really messed up, she said.
Can you believe they all live around here? I mean, do you
ever see them doing anything outside? Ever?
Someone had left a folded piece of paper on Kitty
Whites grave.
Ricky picked the paper up and opened it. Dear Kitty,
My daddy and me used to sing White Hot when we drove
around. We sang along with you as loud as we could. Then I
heard you singing it on the radio the other day and cried and
cried. No one will ever know what that song means to me.
Sorry you had to die so young. Sorry they did this to your
grave.

118

Ricky returned the note to the ground.

Hank wrote that song, she said. He wrote that song
for Kitty.
I looked down at the epitaph on another stone:
If tears could build a ladder
If pain could pave a lane,
Id climb the walls of heaven
And steal you back again.
Wanna see my tree-stand? I said.
Id love to see your tree-stand, Ricky said.
+
We entered the path that led to that ancient mound.
There it is, I said, pointing up at the oak.
Then we stood there looking up at the tree.
I just didnt know what to say. It was alright when there
were other people around, like when Liz was popping in and
out of the room, but lately when I was alone with Ricky and
we were alone now I froze. This had never been the case
before, but recently she had exuded some kind of new aura,
some strange force field that was as confusing as it was
attractive.
I looked at the creature walking beside me. Somewhere
inside was the manipulative little kid Id grown up with and
couldnt stand. But something had happened. Whether it was a
change in her or in me, I didnt know, but suddenly I couldnt
think of a thing to say to her.
Luckily, she had no trouble carrying the conversation by
herself. She had written a song at school today and she was
going to sing it at church with Faith and Aisha, maybe not this
coming Sunday, but for sure the Sunday after. She was going
to sing and play guitar and raise the bar of the music at the
services because the music was so bad and she was just the
person to change it.
Ow!she said. I stepped on something! She plopped
down on the mound with her back against the oak and propped
her foot up on her knee. Can you see it? she said.
I studied the sole of her foot, the pink heel, the creamy
arch, the cleavage between her toes.
Cleavage.

119

Perhaps that was the source of her power. She was a

wealth of dark little cleavages and each one drove me crazy in
a different way. There was the cleavage on her chest and the
cleavage of her belly button and the cleavage of her fingers
and toes and, of course, the cleavage of those mysterious parts
concealed. I could tell myself these were all just dirty niches
in her body dewy clefts and moist little crevices but that
only increased my desire to explore them in all the ways my
mind could imagine.
I held her foot in my hand and I could feel her pulse
radiating into my fingers. I could feel her throbbing blood
connecting me to her beating heart, with the chambers so
dark and secrets so deep that no words could tell them. I just
sat there holding her foot for a while, looking at it. Admiring
it.
Joshua?
I looked up into those wild green eyes.
Well? she said.
+
My suspension would be over next Friday. Since I
wasnt allowed to ride the school bus anymore, we decided
wed ride the 883. Ricky and me. So I took her to Chillicothe
to buy her a helmet and she picked one that had a red broom
crest running down the middle.
It looks like something a Roman officer would have
worn at Milvian Bridge, Ricky said.
Then we picked out a leather jacket with a red, white and
blue skull and crossbones on the back and the words Live
Free or Die. Then a pair of black boots and some snakeskin
pants. It was her birthday after all.
Come on, said the guy who ran the dealership. You
cant really pay for this stuff.
Cash or silver? I said.
+
Friday rolled around and we roared up to the school as
the buses were unloading. Ricky slid from her seat, took the
Roman helmet off and shook out her hair. She buckled the
helmet to the back of my bike, opened the saddle bag, took out
her Separatist prayer bonnet and put it on.

120

It was perfect. The heads of all of those pudgy little Gaia

creeps were exploding. You could feel it in the air. They were
so angry. How dare she? It just wasnt fair. But there were
other kids watching too, who werent Gaia. And they were
waiting to see what would happen.
This teacher came running over and he was really
feminized. No, no, no! he said. No, no, no!
I didnt care to hear his bullshit so I posted on my left
leg and spun the bike around 180 degrees. The Widow
Vonhund owned this big old empty barn that was in a field
next to the school and shed given me permission to park
there. So I put my bike away, jumped what was left of the old
rock fence, and jogged across the bus lot into the school. I
looked for Ricky but she was nowhere to be found, so I went
on to the Behavior Disabilities Unit.
+
Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco, the BDU teacher, lay in her
plasma bag like a beached whale, surrounded by all the things
she needed: her keyboard, phone, box of tissues, family size
bag of Cheese Pooties, a two-liter bottle of diet soda, and a
box of drops. Slap a diaper on her and she wouldnt have to
get up at all.
Shed probably passed through a period of cuteness
twenty-five years and ninety pounds ago, and she still couldnt
let go of the look. Her hair was too blond and too long for her
age, and her contacts were a shade of blue not found in nature.
She was like an obese Barbie doll lying there in her plasma
bag.
Hello Joshua! she said, looking up. Were so happy
to have you as part of our family!
When someone is exuberant for no reason, it really gets
on my nerves. So I handed it right back to her.
Hi Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco! Im so happy to be in the
Behavioral Disabilities Unit!
That got the attention of the other inmates of the BDU,
including Feco and the other union thugs who had plasma
bags next to the door.
My classmates were what youd expect. A few were
victims of fetal alcohol syndrome, if the shape of their heads
were any indication. Then there were the rednecks, mostly

121

relatives of mine, who just couldnt make themselves bend to

the rules. But most of them were budding psychopaths biding
their time until they were taken into the Fairness Union.
Brown-Buttafuoco was so out of place in the BDU that
the administrator who assigned her shouldve been fired for
malpractice. She was so simple, for instance, that she had no
idea I was mocking her. To the contrary, she was energized by
my fake enthusiasm.
Everybody, this is Joshua White! Hes going to be
part of our family this year! Everyone say hello to Joshua!
They stared back like they wanted to kill her, but she
didnt see it.
Hi boys and girls! I gushed, scratching the side of my
nose with my middle finger. Im really happy to be in BDU
and I cant wait to be very best buddies with you all!
+
Looking back, Id have to say Brown-Buttafuoco was a
pretty bad person, even though she thought of herself as
practically a saint, what with her talk about caring. But it
was all whiny, self-serving bullshit like you hear from
Hollywood types.
The thing was, she really wanted to be a caring person.
She just didnt know how. First, she had no brain to speak
of. Ask her to define a word like authenticity and all youd
get back was a cow stare. But her ignorance was more
profound than that. She didnt possess the concept of
authenticity. There was no mental construct that allowed her to
distinguish between what was real and what wasnt. Reality
to Brown-Buttafuoco was TV. Caring was some actress
pretending to cry on camera.
Like most teachers, she was drawn from the lower ranks
of the SAT scores and wouldnt have gotten a college degree if
she didnt major in education. She was gullible and weak,
which made BDU a much more dangerous place than it would
have been with a strong realist at the helm.
Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco pointed to my plasma bag.
Youre going to love Gaia Dancing! she said. You start out
as a Dick but dont let that bother you! Everyone is a Dick or a
Jane at first. Just put on the helmet and flip the switch!
Everything works through eye movement!

122

I put the helmet on and sunk into the plasma bag. Right
away a gasket seal inflated around the rim of the helmet,
cutting off all light and sound from the outside. By the feel of
the seal, I could tell it was plasma also. Then the plasma in my
bag and the plasma encircling my head started throbbing to the
beat of a tune Id never listen to if given a choice.
Hi, Dick! said the voice in my ears. Weve been
waiting for you! Just stare straight ahead while we take some
measurements and make some adjustments. Thats good!
Now look at the red light to the left of your goggle screen.
Great! Now follow it as it moves. Excellent!
Then Im riding in the back seat of a car. Or rather Dick
is, but Im seeing things through Dicks eyes. Behind the
wheel in the front seat is, I assume, Dicks dad, a bland guy
with a double chin and a dented bald head. I turn and theres
Dicks sister, Jane. Jane turns her head and there is something
hanging from her nose. Dick and his family drive on and I
recognize the landscape floating by. Were driving down
Route 73 but its not quite right. The grass is dead and the
fields are barren and scorched. The creek is dry as a bone and
even the trees are wilted. I rode my motorcycle down this road
yesterday, I tell myself. The grass is green. The creek is full
of running water. Im pretty amazed by it all nevertheless,
especially how the plasma bag vibrates my body to give me
the impression that Im actually riding in a car.
Then the perspective shifts and the Gaia Dancers Scat,
Maliq, Shaneeka and Xiang Xua are standing in a courtyard
surrounded by the same kind of snap-on stackable housing
modules that they have down in Diversity Estates, except no
one is ever outside dancing at the Estates.
The Gaia Dancers are really shaking it down. I mean,
man, those computer generated characters can really cut the
rug. Then they start singing in perfect harmony, raising tinkle
fingers to the sun, when all of a sudden I hear this clinking and
clanking and the faces of the Gaia Dancers become so sad.
Its those morons Dick and Jane arriving in their gas
guzzling SUV.
Why dont the Smiths move into public housing and
take public transportation? Shaneeka asks. That would

123

reduce their carbon footprint by 66% and save the earth from
climate fluctuation.
Some people are just stupid and greedy, Maliq says,
his lip quivering.
Racist and ignorant, agrees Scat, taking Maliqs hand.
Dick and Jane get out of the car and it rattles away in a
cloud of blue smoke.
Beep!
The goggle screen displays a multiple choice question
with a disembodied voice reading along, the answers lighting
up as the words are read.
Which greenhouse gas is most responsible for dangerous
Climate Change?
A) Oxygen
B) Carbon Monoxide
(Rest your eyes on the answer of your choice for three
seconds)
I stare at the answer they want and a bell bings.
Way to go, Dick! You just earned two points! Youll be
a Shaneeka before you know it!
Then the Gaia Dancers are back and Dick and Jane run
over to the other dancers and try to join in but its a pretty
much a disaster the way they lurch around. I feel Dicks
spastic movements through the plasma bag, out of step and out
of time. The other dancers look at Dick and Jane, a mix of
scorn and pity on their faces.
They dance and after a minute or so beep a multiple
choice question pops up on the screen and the voice goes
through the possible answers.
Which founding father owned slaves?
A) George Washington
B) Thomas Jefferson
C) Benjamin Franklin
D) James Madison
E) All of the Above
I choose the right answer by looking at it, the bell bings,
and I get another two points. Maliq appears on screen in a
pair of speedos, gyrating his hips and touching his crotch with
his finger. Youre on a roll, Dick! he purrs. Youll soon be
with me.

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Its almost enough to make me stop playing, but I stick

with it. For one thing, Shaneeka and Xiang Xua are really
working up a sweat and theyre pretty good dancers. They
dance and the sun pulsates with heat in the hazy sky.
Lets take a water break! Scat says. This climate
fluctuation is a killer!
Everybody has a bottle of water except for Dick and
Jane, who stand there clueless.
Wheres your water? Shaneeka asks.
Our parents didnt give us any, Jane says.
Oh, for crying out loud! says Maliq.
Here, Scat says, take mine.
Oh, we couldnt, Dick says. Its our fault that we
didnt bring water. Well take responsibility for our actions
and pay the consequences.
Thats crazy talk, Maliq laughs.
It sure is, Scat chuckles. I insist you take my water.
I am awful thirsty, Dick says, taking the water. He
opens the bottle and starts pouring it down his throat.
Whoa, cowboy! Scat says. Save some for your
sister!
Oh yeah, Dick says, water dripping off his chin. He
hands the nearly empty bottle to Jane.
I cant believe youd actually share your water, Scat,
Jane says.
The concept of private property doesnt exist in
Upper/Lower Slobbovian culture, Scat points out. If a
person needs something, he/she simply takes it. This kind of
sharing has been the basis of Slobbovian society for thousands
of years. It is also why Upper/Lower Slobbovians speak
louder in theaters and dont care if the government listens to
our phone calls or reads our email. We like to share our
conversations and have nothing to hide.
Wow! Jane says. Thats much better than Western
Civilization where people value secrecy and believe in
individual ownership! I wish everyone in America shared
everything they have! Then wed all be equal and there would
be peace and justice with no White racism or bigotry!

125

Her words are drowned out by a huge silver jet landing

in the barren field next to the courtyard. The door opens and
golden steps slowly descend to the ground.
Wow! says Xiang Xua. I wonder whos on that jet!
The screen goes blank and the plasma seal around my
helmet shrinks.
+
Time to exercise! Ms Brown-Buttafuoco said.
I took the helmet off and Ms. B-B had this music playing
that just went wonka-wonka-wonka. It was the shittiest music
Id ever heard. But Brown-Buttafuoco was bobbing her head,
still embedded in her plasma bag, looking like a June bug
stuck on its back.
Tinkles up, she said, raising her wiggling fingers to the
ceiling. Tinkles down! She reached toward the floor.
None of my behaviorally impaired comrades were doing
the tinkles, so I jumped right in.
Thats it, Joshua! Brown-Buttafuoco shouted. Now
tinkle left! And tinkle right! Whew! Thats enough for
me! Lets see who gets drops!
Everyones score showed up on Brown-Buttafuocos
computer and everybody got at least one drop for playing the
game. Then points for answering the questions were figured
in. Most kids got another drop. I got two and I was a Dick who
wasnt even trying.
Lets everybody give Joshua a big hand for earning the
most drops! Brown-Buttafuoco said, clapping like a maniac.
I bowed dramatically to my classmates, though none of
them joined in the applause.
Lets snuggle into our plasma and put our helmets back
on, Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco said. I cant wait to see who
gets off that big private jet! Who do you think it will be,
Delano?
I dunno, Delano said.
+
Look! Xiang Xua says. Its actor-director Milan
Polanski! And hes motioning for us to get on his plane!
Kids, Milan says, once the plane was in the air. The
planet is facing certain destruction from capitalist bullies

126

unless you act now! What I want to know is, can I count on
you to collectively fight for social justice?
You can count on us, Milan! Maliq says. What
seems to be the problem?
Milan Polanski tells the Gaia Dancers about his attempts
to make a movie starring the marginalized Pookie Nookie
people of the Amazon Rain Forest, but every time he shouts
action, bullies from a big oil company show up to ruin the
shot by yelling racist hate speech.
That big oil company is doing everything they can to
keep me from getting the truth out, Polanski says. And what
I want to know is, are you with me?
Were with you! Shaneeka shouts. Everyone say
theyre with Milan Polanski!
Lets put our hands together and chant! says Scat.
Hey, hey! Yo,yo! Greedy racists have got to go!
My classmates were farting like crazy. Nasty-ass farts
that made me sick at my stomach.
Say, Milan Polanski says, I hope you dont mind if
we swing by Hollywood on our way to the rainforest. I have
some pals who want to come along.
Hollywood?! the Gaia Dancers exclaim in unison.
Beep!
How many guns are in your home?
A) Zero
B) More than zero
Milan Polanskis plane lands in Hollywood and the
Hollywood pals pile on.
Sean Stone! the Gaia Dancers shout. Oliver Penn!
Both actors are dressed in camo and festooned with
various guns and knives.
Are you Gaias in the market to kick some greedy
capitalist ass? Oliver Penn asks.
Wheres Scarlet? Sean Stone asks. I thought she was
coming on this mission.
Sc-Sc-Sc-Scarlet Madonna? Jane stuttered. Sc-ScScarlet Madonna is coming? No sooner had the words left
Janes mouth than a long, black limo speeds onto the runway.
Here she is now! Oliver Penn laughs.

127

Sorry Im late, Scarlet Madonna says as she rushes on

to the plane, wearing a camo string bikini with a pistol
strapped to her calf. I was on the phone with President
Egesta. He cares about children being killed by guns and
wanted to run a few ideas past me.
President Egesta!? exclaims Dick. Isnt he busy
running for re-election?
Duh, Dick, Shaneeka says. Why do you think he
wants to be re-elected? He wants to save the children from
gun violence and climate fluctuation.
Lets everybody buckle up, Milan Polanski says.
Well be taking off soon!
Beep!
The Constitution was written nearly 300 years ago by:
A) A mixture of transgender, lesbian, gay, and bi-sexual
persons representing a variety of races and ableness, or
B) Greedy white English speaking heterosexual
Protestant Christian males who used guns to enslaved
Africans, kill Native Americans and victimize women
and children while causing climate fluctuation.
The Gaia Dancers, Milan Polansky, Sean Stone, Oliver
Penn and Scarlet Madonna parachute out of the plane and
Im seeing it through Dicks eyes and hes screaming like
crazy and so is Jane. Everyone else lands in a grassy clearing
except for Dick and Jane, whose chutes get caught in trees and
have to be helped down by Sean Stone and Oliver Penn.
Look, Scarlet Madonna says, Dick soiled himself!
Ha-ha-ha-ha!
There might be crop failure going on across the globe,
Scat says. But theres plenty of fertilizer in Dicks pants!!!
Ha-ha-ha-ha!
But the classroom really did smell like someone soiled
their pants. It smelled like someone dumped a real load.
Beep!
How many gasoline powered motors does your family own?
A) None
B) One
C) Two
D) Three or more

128

In no time, the Gaia Dancers and the Hollywood stars

are on the run with guns, protecting some really good looking
naked natives from the onslaught of some greedy corporate
types who wanted to destroy the natives homeland in order to
mine minerals beneath a sacred magical tree that provides all
the needs of the gentle Pookie Nookie people.
As a Dick, my job was mostly to carry ammunition,
water, and medical supplies in case someone got wounded.
Handling the assault weapons was strictly not in Dick and
Janes job description. In fact, whenever a gun was loaded or a
jam was cleared, the other characters turned away so that Dick
could not see the mechanics of the operation. But I didnt
mind. The graphics were great and the native girls were really
hot, so it was easy just to cruise along with the tired old story
line and let my eyes feast.
Then someone shook my arm. My real arm.
I took my helmet off and Ricky was kneeling beside my
plasma bag.
Guess whos been placed in the Behavioral Disabilities
Unit? she whispered.
+
Why? I asked.
Dress code violation. Thats how it started. Mr.
Madama didnt like my snakeskin pants so he took me to the
office. It went downhill from there.
You talk to Alinsky?
And that Johnson-Johnson freak. I told them to screw
themselves and they decided I was behaviorally disabled. Im
over there. She nodded to a plasma bag across the room.
Nearby, one of the psychopaths had his hands in his pants.
I cant believe theyd put us together, I said. I feel
like its a set up..
Ricky shook her head. Youre giving them too much
credit. They dont think that clearly. Theyre all on head
meds.
Im gonna take Master Bates bag, I said. I dont
want you next to that guy.
Im for that, Ricky said, but the teacher has to sync
your plasma bag and your helmet to your assigned role.

129

We looked at Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco wearing her

helmet.
I wonder if it wouldnt be easier to move Master Bates
by executive action, I said, looking around the classroom.
Everyone had their sensory helmets on. Even Feco and the
other Fairness thugs were plugged into the game, and by the
muffled sounds coming from the helmets, war was breaking
out again in Pookie Nookie Land. Master Bates bore down on
himself with both hands now, stroking himself with increased
vigor as the battle intensified.
I kicked his feet.
No reaction.
I ripped the helmet off his head and it was like Id
awakened him with an axe to the throat. He started to take his
hands out of his pants.
Dont even think about touching me, I said, pinning
his arms with my knee. I know where those fingers have
been.
Look how bulgy his eyes are, Ricky said. Thats
from the drops.
We explained to him how he was going to switch places
with me and how if he said anything about it we had the
power to make his life a living hell.
Its more than just us two, Ricky said. We belong to a
secret society of bullies who pick on big pussies like you.
Youve seen the video about us, right? The one where
President Egesta cries about being made to feel different?
Thats us hes talking about. You rat us out and you will feel
our fury.
Yeah, I said. And well do more than make you feel
different, you fat fucker. Your namell go on a beatdown list
and youll be hounded to the ends of the earth.
Get on our list, Ricky said, and the best thing for you
to do is chug a can of Drain-O.
Now get your fat ass over there on that bag and shut the
fuck up.
He did what we told him.
Open the windows to let the farts out, Ricky said. It
smells like a goddamn outhouse in here. Its enough to gag a
fucking maggot.

130

The tinted glass was secured by a single latch. I pushed

the window opened and looked out on the true color of the
green grass.
I went down the row of windows opening each one just
to get a little fresh air in the place. I think its more than the
farts, I said. I dont think they know how to wipe.
Ricky went to the dry-erase board behind Ms. BrownButtafuoco and wrote:
Homework:
Wipe yo ass
Wash yo clothes
Take a shower
Practice not farting
You think Im being too harsh? Ricky asked.
No, I said. Somebody has to tell them.
Ms. B-B had a box of sanitary wipes by her plasma bag
so Ricky snagged it and old B-B was none the wiser what with
the battle raging inside her helmet.
We wiped off our plasma bags and the insides of our
helmets. Then the sound of gunfire stopped.
Ceasefire, Ricky whispered.
Oh, no! some kid said in the front of the room.
Another kid gasped, as the violins swelled from fiftysome tiny speakers.
Then Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco let out a sob that sounded
like a moose in heat, followed by a mega-fart.
Oh, the humanity, Ricky said.
Then there was another fart. Then another.
They were all crying now, tears seeping out from around
their sensory helmets, coursing down their pasty faces.
Dont you wonder whats making them cry? I asked.
She shrugged. Its always the same with Gaia Dancing.
The game ends with some little kid dying. Or a kindly old
person. Or some innocent animal. Killed by a capitalist, or a
racist, or a homophobe, or someone who hates Moloch Peor
Egesta. Its the same old emotional manipulation over and
over. But it works every time. Theyll be so righteously
enraged by the time they finish that theyll almost be able to
overcome their sloth. So dont try to tell them what they just
experienced isnt real. Emotions are the most real thing to

131

them. Dont try to tell them about truth. They think emotions
are the truth.
The inmates in the Behavioral Disabilities Unit slowly
removed their helmets.
Wha ca we doo? one of the students whined. Wha
ca we doo?
I didnt know what the he was talking about. Whatever
stupid shit happened in Pookie Nookie land, I guessed.
You can care, Ms Brown-Buttafuoco said, reaching for
a tissue and, mysteriously, finding none.
This seemed to satisfy the BDU students, several of
whom nodded in agreement as they lay in their plasma bags.
Someone opa dee winoos! another kid said. M valve
guano shut!
Right away kids coughed like fresh air was toxic.
Feco, Ms Brown-Buttafuoco said. Would you please
close the windows?
No-no-no, Feco said, shaking his finger from the
comfort of his plasma bag. Dat not my job. No mo wit de
winoos.
Okay, Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco said. Would someone
else like to close the windows? How about you, Barack?
Barack dis! Barack dat! Why yo always assin me?
Che? How about you?
No way, Ho-zay. Whe we gittin de drops?
Yeah! Whe we gittinde drops?
Yo-yo-yo!
Somebaa-ee pu de winoos dow fore dee allergies
come!
We wan drops now!
No-no-no-no! Do dee winoos firs!
Very well, Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco said. Ill shut the
windows myself.
Why can we hab de drops firs?
Because I cant do two things at once, Ms. BrownButtafuoco said, struggling to rise from her plasma bag, but
falling back.
Dont give up! Ricky shouted. Keep trying!

132

Finally, the teacher rolled out of the bag sideways,

crawled on all fours to the corner of the room and managed to
pull herself up.
Way to go! Ricky said, clapping. I knew you could do
it!
Brown-Buttafuoco shut the windows and distributed the
drops and turned on the television and everybody was happy
and filling the room with farts again.
Oprah was on the tube, interviewing a nun whod written
a book about five guys in Knoxville who had a raped a girl to
death and the nun was so incredibly compassionate that she
was not only able to forgive the killers but even married one.
And the movie is coming out in December? Oprah
asked, dabbing her tears.
Then, Oprah was laughing again.
Will there be a baby in the White House? she asked.
Heres Michael R. Kelly with parenting tips for President
Egesta and his husband to be
Then Michael R. is on the screen, his face made
monstrous by the plastic surgery intended to transform his
Negroid features into those of an Irish elf, his once black skin
bleached to builders beige, his mascaraed eyes showing the
blear of decades of drugs and alcohol. He was one of
Hollywoods most prolific pedophiles, and he had blown
millions in order to pursue his predilection for preteen penis
without interference from the police.
Then he married his plastic surgeons Swedish nurse,
who produced three blond, blue-eyed boys in three years,
whereupon she divorced Michael, giving him complete and
uncontested custody of the children for a 30 million dollar
settlement. Ten million a boy.
So what was Michaels advice to President Egesta on
starting a family with his husband to be, the journalist Toure
LeMay?
Da mos potent ting is dat he lub em, Michael said,
gathering the boys in his arms.
The boys stared back at the camera with blank eyes,
dead eyes, eyes that saw neither joy, nor love, nor help for
pain. They were the eyes of Hitlers Jews walking into the gas

133

chamber, knowing that the world knew their fate but was
letting it happen anyway.
Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco? Ricky said. Are those really
Michaels children?
Why of course they are, Brown-Buttafuoco said.
What a silly question.
I dont mean legally, Ricky said. I mean biologically.
Do you think Michael is the biological father of those boys?
I watched Brown-Buttafuoco. I watched the answer take
shape. I watched the words form on her lips.
Why of course those are Michael Rs children, the
teacher said. Why would you even think they arent?
I didnt realize how far reality was out of joint until I
looked into Ms. Brown-Buttafuocos rounded face and
watched her say that a Negro could father Scandinavians.
Somewhere behind her eyes was a dim awareness that what
she said was ridiculous. But up front was the conviction that
the untruth was told in the service of a greater end, some
confused idea about racial equality or social justice, perhaps.
Or maybe she was just standing in solidarity with the herd she
followed, reality be damned. Of course black men could sire
full-blooded white children. To think otherwise would be
racist.
I watched my classmates watch television. Something
was happening to them as they lay in their plasma bags. Their
torsos were growing bigger and softer while their limbs
shrank. Their necks were disappearing and their eyes were
growing piggish and migrating to the sides of their heads.
They were transforming, devolving, And there were so
many of them like this. I felt myself drowning in them, being
suffocated by their learned helplessness, their farts, and
their demand for undeserved equality.
You think most kids in America are like this, I asked
Ricky.
You mean physically weak and stupid as shit? Ricky
asked.
We interrupt this program for a message from your
principal, the canned voice on the television said. And the
television screen was filled with a close-up of Alinskys flabby
face.

134

Good morning, Alinsky said, the teleprompter glowing

in his dusky eyes. As I have been telling you for the last
several days, some students are opting not to eat the
delicious/nutritious meals provided by the Federal Food
Service Program. As you know, those among you who are
more fortunate and lucky enough to pay full price for your
Food Service meal, subsidize those students who, through no
fault of their own, cannot afford to feed themselves. When
fewer payers pay, the cost on those remaining payers must go
up. Thats just science. Economic science. And you cant
argue with science. So starting today, the price to those
paying full price will rise by twenty percent. Hopefully,
President Egesta will be re-elected with large majorities and
everyone in America will reap the benefits of the basic human
right to a free lunch. Until that happens, those with more must
pay more.
+
Its safer if we sit in the corner of the cafeteria with the
other kids who bring their lunches, Ricky said when we
entered the cafeteria. The Gaias do this thing where they
come up behind you and hit you in the back of the head. They
call it the knock-out game. So its better if we hang close.
We sat down in the corner with the Zeisbergers and right
away the two Jessis came over.
Were not buying lunch, Jessi Gipson said.
If Egesta wants to raise the price, he can keep his shitty
food, Jessi White added.
You can have my sandwich, Matt said.
Oh, I couldnt take your sandwich, Jessi White said.
I dont mind, Matt said. Well split it.
Matt tore the sandwich in two and handed Jessi half.
Then Mark gave Jessi Gipson half of his sandwich and we
were all sharing our food with the two Jessis when Levi Cohen
hobbled over and said he didnt have enough money to buy
lunch so he wasnt eating either. So we were sharing with him
too when Feco and the Fairness thugs came over.
Yo, yo, yo! Feco said. Yo be screwin yoselves!
Whats he saying? Luke Zeisberger said. I cant
understand a word he says.
De price guana go up mo f yo don buy de lunch!

135

Why does the price go up if demand is down? Mark

asked. How does that happen?
Fooooos! Feco said, and stomped away.
Ricky and Faith started practicing the song they were
going to perform at church. Actually they sang the tune real
low and practiced the rhythmic clapping and stomping that
went with the song.
Whatre you doing? Jessi White asked.
Ricky didnt answer. She just raised the volume of her
singing a bit.
There wasnt much to the song. It was just the same
words shed lifted from an extemporaneous Separatist song.
Spirit rain down. Wash sins away. The Separatist made
songs up on the fly like that all the time.
I know that tune, Jessi said. Thats a Kitty White
tune.
Hank wrote it, Ricky said, keeping up the clapping
with Faith. Actually he stole it from the Separatists. Or
maybe they took it from him.
Jessi White came in on the beat and had it down in no
time. Then Jessi Gipson tried but couldnt quite get it.
Let me show you how, Matt said. And Matt started
slapping the table.
Hey, you guys are really good! Ricky said. You
should practice with us on the stomp floor after school.
Yeah, Matt said, looking at Jessi White. You should
come over and practice with us after school.
Ill practice with you, Levi said.
I can pick you up if you dont have a way there, Matt
said to Jessi.
I can ride my bike if you tell me where practice is, said
Levi Cohen.
+
Since taking over Master Bates plasma bag I saw the
Gaia game through the eyes of Maliq, which was quite a bit
different than what Dick got. Stuff that Dick only got a
glimpse of was pretty much on full display for Maliq. The
working of the gun for example. When a gun was loaded, Dick
and Jane couldnt see the mechanics of how the rifle worked.
As a Maliq, I saw exactly how the gun functioned in great

136

detail, often in slow motion with the rifles receiver fading to

transparency so that I could observe the internal workings as
the round was chambered.
The same went for maintaining the guns. While Dick and
Janes lumpy headed dad drove them to and from their
wasteful single family home in the country, the Gaia Dancers
went through a detailed disassembly, cleaning, and reassembly
of the weaponry, earning drops every step of the way by
knowing the parts of the guns and how they fit.
Anyway, the Gaia Dancers are in the courtyard in front
of Diversity Estates and are just dancing up a storm and since
Im a Maliq now Im positioned right behind Shaneeka and
let me tell you that girl can shake her ass. I mean old Dick
never got a shot like Maliq is getting. And every once in a
while, she turns around and sticks her tongue out. So I
understand why Master Bates was always polishing his
bayonet.
Anyway, the action shifts to these super brainy
homosexual kids named Bud and Chuck living in this town
full of Christian homophobes who are always throwing pee on
the two young lovers. They pour pee on Bud and Chucks
computers, on their clothes, even on the abstract expressionist
paintings the two boys produce in art class. And when Bud
and Chuck go to the boys restroom, its a regular pee storm
theres so much urine flying around. Its like anywhere
Christians go they carry condoms full of pee to throw at Bud
and Chuck.
Anyway, Bud and Chuck take in abused puppies and
kittens but the Christian bullies, inspired by the hateful
sermons of a local preacher, keep calling them fag and
homo and kill the kittens and puppies and hang them from
trees outside of Bud and Chucks house.
So the action shifts back to Diversity Estates and
everyone is dancing and my plasma bag is hot and throbbing
and I actually feel like Im doing these great dance moves but
putting forth no effort whatsoever when this big limo drives up
and the tinted window slowly goes down.
Secretary of Homeland Defense Hillary Warren! the
Gaia Dancers scream in unison.

137

Get in the car, Secretary Warren says. Racist

homophobes are throwing urine on LGBLTQ children and
President Egesta needs your help to bring them to justice!
Beep!
The Constitution of the United States
A) Limits what the government can do to help people
achieve economic equality
B) Was written nearly 300 years ago by white Anglo-Saxon
protestant males who believed in the private ownership of
guns
C) Allowed for the ownership of slaves
D) Excluded women from voting.
E) All of the above.
Hillary Warren takes the Gaia Dancers to the Servants
Quarters gated community where essential government
workers live.
These are the people who keep the country running,
she says as the limo cruises down the streets of well-kept
lawns and large houses, all flying the red and black helping
hand flag.
How the heck do they do that? Dick asks.
Well, Dick, Hillary Warren laughs. When you get
sick, these are the folks who make sure you get the proper
medical care. When you buy food, these people make sure it is
safe and available at a fair cost. When you flip the switch and
the light comes on, it is someone here who brings that
electricity to you. When you turn on the faucet, someone here
is ensuring that you are not poisoned by greedy capitalists.
A smiling woman in a pant suit walks out of her house
toward a waiting driver and waves at Hillarys limo.
Wow! says Shaneeka. Wouldnt it be great if everyone
worked for the government?
Unfortunately not everyone sees it that way, Hillary
Warren says. Believe it or not, there are people who would
like to see the government play a smaller role in your lives.
Thats crazy! says Scat, his nostrils flaring around the
bone in his nose. The government is here to protect us and
make sure everything is fair and safe. What kind of idiot
would be against that?

138

Racist Christian homophobes, says Hillary Warren.

Thats who.
It makes me so sad to think that there are people like
that in America, Xiang Xua says, starting to cry.
Shaneeka puts her arm around Xiang. Secretary
Warren, Shaneeka says, isnt there some way we could
round up all of those racist homophobes and put them
someplace where they cant discriminate against the rest of
us?
The limo pulls onto a helicopter pad where a helicopter
waits, its rotors turning. In the door of the helicopter stands a
man behind a fifty caliber machine gun and a woman wearing
a fur bikini.
Kanya North! Maliq shouts.
Kim Kevorkian! squeals Shaneeka.
Youre going to need help fighting those homophobes,
Secretary Warren says. I hope you dont mind if Kim and
Kanya lend a hand.
Beep!
If George Washington gave his lesbian African-American slave
ten lashes with a whip every day, how many lashes would
Washington give the woman in a year?
Ricky kicked my foot.
I knew what it was about.
I smelled it too.
Maybe the teachers and students were so used to it that it
smelled like roses to them, but it had to be the worst stench Id
ever encountered.
I peeled off my helmet.
Goddamn, I said. What the hells wrong with them?
It smells like a pack of rats crawled up their butts and died.
Its the drugs in the government cheese, Ricky said.
I dont know how much more of this I can stand, I
said.
The plasma bags began to shake as the sound of machine
gun fire escaped the helmets of the kids in the room. Ricky
and I sat back in our plasma bags and watched as our
classmates went into virtual battle.
The Scats in the room, identified by the bones in their
noses, were evidently going full auto with a rifle while the

139

Maliqs, recognized by their jewelry, were stabbing and

slashing their ways through the ranks of their opponents. The
Shaneekas were jerking around in their plasma bags, kicking
and punching and grunting.
I wonder whats up with Jane? Ricky said. Her plasma
bag was quivering oddly.
Or Dick, I said, nodding to Master Bates, whose bag
also had the shivers.
Ill take a peek. Ricky said, and popped on the helmet.
Who cares, I said, kicking her foot after shed had the
hat on too long. Cmon!
Ricky took the helmet off. Janes is caught out in the
open! she said. Dick is hiding behind a rock having a
nervous breakdown. Put your hat on!
I put my sensory helmet on and right away see the dire
predicament the Gaia Dancers are in. They are pinned down in
a pasture by racist homophobes in tractor hats and Carhartt
cloths who are being resupplied with ammo by women with
uncut hair and long jean skirts. Worst of all, Jane has been
wounded and caught out in the open while Dick cowers
nearby, praying.
Cover me, Kanya says. Im goin out t save Jane or
die tryin!
Oh, Kanya, you cant, says Kim Kevorkian. Those
white racists would love to kill a vastly superior black man
like you!
I gotsa baby, Kanya says. I couldn look mysef in de
mirror if I lef dat girl out dere t be murdered by her own
kine.
But she has it coming, Kanya! She deserves it because
of the crusades, colonialism and the hegemony of Western
Civilization!
Kanya runs into the firestorm, bullets kicking up dirt
around his feet, firing his assault rifle with one hand,
sideways, from the hip. Still, he kills hillbillies with amazing
accuracy, their toothless heads exploding like watermelons. He
scoops the injured Jane up in his arms then grabs the still
praying Dick by the hair and pulls him back to safety.

140

Call in dat choppa! Kanya commands as banjo music

swells from behind the ridge. Dose raciss is massin for an
all-out assault! Dey like animals! Dey not even hooman!
Look at em! Maliq says. Dey been back in dese hills
haben sex wit der mamas an papas for centuries!
An it look like dey been collectin guns and ammo dat
whole time too! says Shaneeka. Here come dat choppa! An
look! It Secretary of Homeland Defense Hillary Warren on
dee door gun!
Hillary kicks a sling line out of the door and lays down
covering fire as Kanya, Kim, and the Dancers attach their
tactical vests to the line. Dick is last to attach and as the
helicopter lifts off he fails to hold onto the line and goes into a
crazy, screaming spin. When everyone is finally safely inside
the chopper, Jane kneels before Kanya and kisses his hand.
When I was pinned down by dose racis homophobes,
Jane says, I prayed to Jesus dat he would sabe me. But he
didn sabe me. Yo di, Kanya. Yo my Jesus now.
I been called lotsa tings, Kanya chuckles, but neber
Jesus!
What dat smell? Shaneeka asks.
Dick! Xiang Xua says. Did you ma dirt in yo pants
again?
Dose dumb hillbillies don need t mine Mudder Eart
fo fuel, laughs Hillary Warren. All dey need do is mine
Dick underwear!
Ha-ha-ha-ha!
+
I tore off my helmet. Ricky already had hers off.
I took out The Road to Serfdom to study for my initiation
into the Resistance. Everyone else had their helmets on so I
felt safe having the book out. Even on the outside chance that
Brown-Buttafuoco would somehow rise from her plasma bag
and seize the book, she wouldnt be able to detect the code. I
was pretty sure she was too dim for that.
Lying there, Brown-Buttafuocos legs stuck up like the
drumsticks on a baked turkey. And on her puffy feet were
these painfully pointy high heels that looked like theyd
collapse under her weight if she tried to walk.

141

I looked over at D.B, writing in her notebook. She had

these worn out Chuck Taylors on and it was hard to think of
her as even being of the same species as Brown-Buttafuoco.
+
After school, Ricky and I rode my motorcycle over to
Gommi and Ommis and Aisha came out with Tony and the
three of us started putting the stomp floor together in the barn
while Tony crawled around getting dirty. Wed just put the
outer frame together when Matt drove up in his pickup with
Mark, Luke, Faith and the two Jessis. They were packed like
sardines in that truck with the two Jessis on Mark and Lukes
lap. Together we slapped that stomp floor together in no time.
Then things got a little strange. The Zeisberger brothers
were fine when they were putting the floor together, but once
it was assembled, they were ashamed to stomp because they
knew other people thought it was odd.
What the hells wrong with you guys? Ricky said.
Why arent you kicking? She was playing this old guitar that
was kept in the barn. It wasnt a very good guitar, but she
could make it sound okay.
You shouldnt cuss on the floor, Faith said. You
shouldnt cuss anywhere but especially on the floor.
Well excusez moi, Ricky said, but whyre your
asshole bothers acting like they cant stomp? You too, Joshua.
Youre clogging like an old horse.
Id really like to see it, Jessi White said. I saw it when
I was a little kid but I barely remember.
Me too, said Jessi Gipson. Ive heard of it all my life
but Ive never seen it done. Except in the movie, and she
gave me a shitty little grin.
And theyre really good at it too, Ricky said. Not like
those old guys in the documentary. They can really stomp it
out. But theyre pussies. They let a bunch of morons
convinced them to be ashamed of their culture. Thats why
theyre pussies.
Im not a pussy, Matt said. Dont call me that again.
Pussy, Ricky said, strumming the guitar like she was
bored. Pussy, pussy, pussy. Matt Pussy Zeisberger. Thats
your new name, pussyboy. Get used to it.

142

I pulled Matt back. Lets just do it, I said. They want

us to so lets do it.
Ricky started singing the song and Faith joined in and
the Zeisbergers and I started stomping slow and rhythmic
because thats what the song called for. Then Ricky broke into
Heal your people! Come heal your people! and we kicked in
the backbeat good and hard. Spirit rain down! Rain! On! Me!
Rain down! Rain down! Rain down on me now! Right now!
Right now! And we stood up and really started stomping it.
Tony crawled out on the floor and he was really getting off on
the sound and the vibration. He started clapping his little
hands and laughing.
The Jessis were trying to stomp, but you really need
heavy boots to do it right. Jessi White had it down pretty good,
but Jessi Gipson was still learning.
Dont watch our feet, Jessi Faith said. Just close your
eyes and open up. Open up and let It in. Itll take you if you
really want It to. If you have faith. And when It does, youll
know. Itll put you on and wear you like a shoe and youll
stomp.
The Jessis closed their eyes and the song just went on
and on, moving this way and that, softer, slower, faster, louder.
But you dont get tired of the song after it comes alive. Thats
what the Separatists call it when a song starts to evolve, or
grow, or whatever it does. They say it comes alive. I told
myself the song wasnt really coming alive because we were
just fooling around and because the two Jessis and Aisha were
in on it. But the song seemed to be coming alive anyway.
Then Faith sang her own words and Ricky backed off the
vocals and let her go.
Mattai qeepaleevunwaw! Ayvon d-bish-maiva
Mattai qeepaleevunwaw! Ayvon d-bish-maiva.
Jessi Gipson was stunned and maybe a little scared, but
Jessi White just kept stomping away while Faith sang. Jessi
White lifted her face and, if you didnt know she had such a
bad rep, you wouldve thought she was a perfect little dark
angel. She looked so pure and beautiful.
I glanced over at Matt and he saw it too. He couldnt
take his eyes off Jessi. He was glued to her because she was

143

changing right there in front of us. She was blooming. She

was coming alive.
The words came fast to Faith and we picked up the
stomp as she sang.
Avvon d-bish-maiya, nith qaddash shim-mukh! Avvon
d-bish-maiya, nith shim-mukh!
Then Jessi Whites lips moved to the words Faith sang.
Then she started to sing along. I wouldnt have believed it if I
hadnt seen it myself. I just wouldnt have believed it.
Then Levi Cohen swung the barn door open, light
poured in, and the song ended in one final stomp. Boom! And
whatever it was that had come into the barn, left.
+
Ricky fell on the floor laughing. Did you hear Jessi?
she said. She was laughing so hard she was crying. Did you
hear Jessi sing? Oh, man!
Jessi Gipson was laughing too. And so was Faith and
Aisha. Jessi White looked like she was dazed at first, but then
she started giggling.
Whats so hilarious? Levi asked.
I dont know why, but the question must have struck the
Zeisbergers boys as funny, because they started laughing.
Were not laughing at you, Ricky said to Levi. Come
in and close the door.
Levi closed the door and hobbled over. Whatre you
guys doing? He looked at the stomp floor. Whats this?
Its a meeting of a secret society, Faith laughed. Now
that you know our identity we have no other choice but to
murder you.
You could just let me join, Levi said.
Im afraid its not that simple, I said. We have to be
sure you believe as we believe.
Believe what?
Why, the Ten Commandments of course, I said.
I believe in the Ten Commandments.
Recite them and explain the meaning of each, I said.
Levi shrugged. Dont kill, dont steal, shit like that.
Shit like that? Thats what you know of the Ten
Commandments?

144

I know the school is against em, Levi said. And if

the school is against em then Im for em.
Good enough, Mark said. I say let him in.
Okay, Ricky said. Youre in Levi, but its really not a
secret society. We just said that to hide the shameful truth.
Were really practicing a song to sing in church.
Church! Levi laughed. Thats a good one! Like the
two Jessis would go to church!
Whatre you saying? Jessi Gipson asked. Whats your
point? Im not afraid to fight you, you crippled little
PeeWee.
His name is Levi, Faith said. Its not PeeWee. And
stop talking like that.
What are you, his fucking lawyer? Jessi said. Ill
fight you too, you little bitch. Ill fight anyone.
Ill wrestle you, Mark Zeisberger said. I wont hurt
you, but Id really like to wrestle you. Id even let you win if
you want to wrestle around. I think youre really pretty.
Mark wasnt being a smartass. He was just being a
Zeisberger.
Jessis blushing! Jessi White said. Shes blushing!
Jessi Gipson gave Jessi White the finger, but she really
was blushing.
What do you say, Levi? Faith said to PeeWee. Are
you in or out?
Im in, he said, and went over and stood beside Faith.
We stacked the boards of the stomp floor against the
wall, then Luke carried Tony around the barn, pointing to tools
hanging on the wall and naming them. Shovel, Luke said
and touched the steel head. Tony pointed, babbled something
and they moved on to the pitchfork.
Aisha joined Luke and Tonys tour of tools. Matt and
Jessi White went off somewhere. Jessi Gipson and Mark were
horsing around, acting like they were wrestling, while Faith
and Levi sat on the bench having the worlds most awkward
conversation.
Lets go, I said to Ricky.
We got on the 883 and cruised up to Hillsboro, which
used to be a wealthy little town by the looks of all the grand
old houses lining Main Street. There was even an Opera

145

House in Hillsboro. But somewhere along the way something

got lost. The people who built the big homes and the Opera
House were in the churchyards now, sleeping not far from
their pioneer fathers, and the houses theyd built had been cut
up into small apartments for another generation, who fed
themselves with plastic cards and built nothing.
We headed east out Route 50, throttling back, making the
motor roar. We went into that section of road where the asphalt
twists and turns and Ricky had her thumbs hooked over the
front of my jeans and her chest pushed up against my back. So
I twisted the throttle and Ricky held on and we both knew
what was coming at the top of the hill.
We hit the peak and went airborne.
Flying.
Screaming.
Hurtling through the air on the crest of a wave, the
breath ripped from our mouths. And it was like wed always
been meant to fly, and now we finally knew it.
Then the road was straight and flat as a pancake. I lay
down on the gas tank and throttled back until all my horses ran
free, blasting out across the American plain toward the dark
hulk of Appalachia on the horizon.
+
We pulled into the parking lot of the Bluegrass expecting
trouble from Dad and Liz because we were so late.
Whats the worst they can do? Ricky said. Ground
us? That wont work. Youll just climb through the windows.
Youre good at that.
We walked into the bar and Liz and Dad were standing
there like a firing squad.
Young lady, Liz said. You have a half dozen bus pans
waiting for you in the kitchen. Get on it right now.
Why just me? Ricky said. Why doesnt Josh have to
help? Hes just as guilty as I am. Hes guiltier if you ask me.
Josh has other fish to fry tonight, Dad said.
Bullshit! Ricky said. Why does Josh get to go to a
fish fry while I have to do dishes?
Dad pulled me outside. You know all your lines?
I do, I said.
Put on a clean shirt and meet me at my truck.

146

+
We drove up the hill and parked by the White family
cemetery.
Some of this will seem silly, Dad said, reaching under
his seat and bringing out a stained hangmans noose and a
blindfold.
Its okay, I said. I know about tradition and ritual. I
know why its necessary.
So I passed through the first ten gates that night.
Questions were put to me and I gave the correct answers. It
was all like a script in a play. Then, while holding the
Constitution and the Declaration of Independence between the
palms of my hands, I took an oath to defend the Bill of Rights
from all enemies, domestic or foreign, with my life, my
fortune, and my sacred word of honor.
It was all very dramatic the way it was done. But thats
all I should say about it.
+
The next morning, Ricky came down to the bar early. I
was working the grill, frying eggs and bacon, flipping
pancakes and keeping the toast coming. She picked up a
spatula and started helping.
How was the initiation? she asked. I know youre not
allowed to tell anybody about it, but how was it?
It was good, I said.
Did you have all your stuff memorized?
Yeah.
The Bill of Rights, right?
Yeah, I said. But you have to explain what they mean
and keep saying how the Bill of Rights limits the power of
government. Thats the main idea.
Liz came in and took over the grill and Ricky and I
headed for the barn. We opened the door and on the seat of my
motorcycle was another homemade book, The Abolition of
Man, by C.S. Lewis. Ricky thumbed through the pages. Its
coded, she said, handing me the book. Its the key to the
next ten gates.
+
I rode slowly over the back roads, taking my time.
Summer was ending and I felt a little nostalgic about it for

147

some reason. We parked the bike in Vonhunds barn and got

our stuff out of the saddlebags.
Hold your horses, Ricky said. She combed her hair
then put her prayer bonnet on. She didnt tuck her hair under it
or tie the chin strings. She wore it her own way. We walked
across the bus lot and Mr. Madama the Chestless Man
Ricky called him positioned himself on the sidewalk to
intercept us.
No religious clothing! he said.
His body was a wreck. His big chucklehead jutted
forward on a pencil-thin neck, while his chest was concave but
for his tits, which sagged down onto his bulbous belly that was
tightly sheathed in a stretched out Fairness Union shirt. And he
was such a bitter guy. Hed majored in art at some third rate
university in the hopes of being the next Shepard Fairy only to
find himself teaching school in Adams County.
Fuck you, I said.
What did you say?
I said fuck you, you little twerp. You let Slobbs
practically rape girls right in front of you but give us shit
because were Christians? Well no more asshole. While I love
you like myself and will forgive you if asked, Im also
commanded to set your stupid ass straight. Being a Christian is
not synonymous with being a pussy. Thats something youre
going to have get used to.
Thats ten demerits, the art teacher said.
Give me a billion demerits, I retorted. Hell, give me
a trillion. What the fuck is a demerit anyway? Take your
demerits and stick them up your ass!
Wed gathered quite a crowd of students, but we walked
through them, leaving Mr. Madama sputtering.
Ricky sighed. That was so sexy, she said.
+
Matt and Jessi were leaning against the wall outside of
the Behavioral Disabilities Unit.
The Fairness Union guys are going nuts this morning,
Matt said. Theyre protesting their working conditions.
They do this every once in a while, Jessi said.
Theyre just a bunch of drama queens.

148

Feco came marching down the hall with Peepers Potok.

The ass-kicking Id given him obviously hadnt lasted. He was
full Slobb again, complete with fetal bone in nose.
Peepers looked at Ricky, made a ring with his thumb and
forefinger, then jammed the index finger of his other hand
through the circle. It was the Slobbovian sign of impalement,
and it was the worst gesture a Slobb could make to a girl.
The bell rang to start first period but everyone stayed out
in the halls because they thought something might happen
what with the Fairness Union guys protesting. After a while
Ms. Johnson-Johnson came over the PA in that falsetto voice
he used whenever he was on the PA and promised everyone
five free drops if they would go to class.
Well that cleared the halls in a hurry. Inside the
Behavioral Disabilities Unit, Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco was
getting mobbed by students demanding drops. The problem
was the drops hadnt been distributed yet because all the
Fairness thugs who usually brought the drops around had
spent the morning protesting their working conditions.
Ill give you the drops as soon as I get them, Ms.
Brown-Buttafuoco said.
Miz J-J say we gets drops now!
We wa drops! We wa drops!
Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco made a call to the office, but they
werent answering. Feco showed up and she asked him to go
get the drops but he was in a nasty mood from the protest and
demanding drops too.
We wa drops! We wa drops! the kids shouted,
pointing at Brown Buttafuoco.
But but, Brown-Buttafuoco stuttered. Im on
your side! I just dont have any drops to give you.
The students came in closer, chanting, surrounding the
teacher, jabbing their fingers inches from her face. We wa
drops! We wa drops! they screamed.
Then Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco did something really
strange. In the midst of the chanting students, she began to
chant along with them: We wa drops! We wa drops!
The students were confused for a moment. Their chant
faltered. They exchanged glances.

149

Dis boool sheet! Feco announced, and the chant was

back on, this time the pointing fingers actually striking
Brown-Buttafuocos face. We wa drops! We wa drops!
Then Feco put his finger in her nose. He put it right up
there. And Brown-Buttafuoco closed her eyes and kept on
chanting. So Feco put his middle finger inside her other nostril
and the students became excited and chanted louder.
So Feco pushed his fingers in deeper, till tears streamed
from the teachers eyes and a little trickle of blood came from
one nostril. Then some other kid, some Scat, put his finger in
one of her ears. Then some male Shaneeka put a finger in the
other ear. And they both really pushed in. And still Ms.
Brown-Buttafuoco chanted along with the students.
We gib yo drops yo ho! Feco said. We drops yo
drawers!
We really couldnt see what was happening, there were
so many kids and Fairness Workers surrounding BrownButtafuoco. But we could see that Feco took his fingers from
her nose. We saw that he kneeled in front of her and that her
chanting suddenly became a grimace as a cheer went up from
the other students, who shook their fists in the air as if theyd
just knocked a grand slam homer.
Then the door opened. It was a Fairness Worker bringing
the drops around. When she saw what was happening she
pushed the cart into the room and ran.
The mob surrounding Brown-Buttafuoco stormed the
cart, knocking it over so that drops were rolling on the floor
and kids were crawling after them, fighting over them, stuffing
them in their mouths as fast as they could.
The drugs in the drops acted fast and in no time the
students of the Behavioral Disorders Unit were in their plasma
bags with their sensory helmets on, playing the latest
installment of Gaia Dancing.
+
Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco sat in her plasma bag staring into
space while the violin music swelled in the sensory helmets
surrounding us. Bud and Chuck were having a tender moment
perhaps, or were rescuing a kitten abused by a cis white male.
You need to tell the police what Feco did, Ricky said.

150

Feco is a victim of discrimination, Ms. BrownButtafuoco said, staring into space.

So that exempts him from the lowest standards of
civilized behavior? Ricky asked.
No writing allowed in school, Ms. Brown-Buttafuoco
said, looking at the pencil I was using to decode The Abolition
of Man. Pencils can be used as weapons.
I ignored her. She was less than zero to me now. She had
failed to fight back.
+
I told Dad I was ready to go through gates eleven
through twenty since all it I had to memorize was the Ten
Commandments, and Ommi had taught me that when I was a
child.
But do you understand the Commandments in the
context of the Resistance? Dad asked.
I do, I said.
Give me the eighth.
Thou shalt not steal, I said.
Whats that mean? Dad asked.
First, it means not to take the property of others.
Second, it presupposes that individuals have the right to
possess private property, as does the tenth commandment
prohibiting covetousness of anothers possessions. Both
commandments assume that there will be inequality of wealth
due to inequality of effort and talent. Impressed? I really did
read the book.
Number six, Dad said.
Thou shalt not kill, I said. It forbids murder, but in
no way prohibits a man from using deadly force to protect
himself, his loved ones, or his property. The surrounding
scripture is replete with examples of self-defense, capital
punishment, and the use of deadly force to recover property.
You shall not bow down before any graven image, he
said. Whats that mean?
Have no other Gods before God, I said. Dont
worship movie stars, or politicians, or athletes, or video
games, or yourself, and so on.
Number nine, Dad said.

151

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy

neighbor, I said. Thou shalt not lie. In the Judeo-Christian
context, truth is objective and immutable. It doesnt change
from culture to culture, or place to place, or time to time.
Whats the fifth commandment? he asked.
Honor thy father and mother that thy days may be long
in the land that the Lord thy God hast given thee. I know I
often fail, but I do my best.
Dad nodded. Ill get some guys together and well get
you through the next ten gates.
+
Early the next Sunday, Ricky and I rode over to Gommi
and Ommis to put the stomp floor together. That was the deal.
Ricky could perform her song as long as we put the floor
together and took it down again.
We had just gotten started when the Zeisberger boys and
the Jessis pulled into the barnyard, all crammed into the cab of
the truck with Levi and Faith riding in the back. Then Aisha
came out with Tony and everyone pitched in and we got the
floor together in no time. So Ricky said we should practice a
new song shed written called Dance, Dance, Dance, which
must have taken her about two minutes to write because the
tune was stolen from a song Hank and Kitty recorded and
lyrics were lifted from Ecclesiastes. Anyway, the girls already
knew the words because theyd practiced it at school, but wed
never stomped it on the floor so Matt got his kettle and his
spoons and Ricky tuned up the old guitar and we tried it out.
Its a time to be born! (dance, dance, dance, dance!)
And plant! (dance, dance, dance, dance!)
And heal! (dance, dance, dance, dance!)
And build! (dance, dance, dance, dance!)
Embrace! (dance, dance, dance, dance!)
And love! (dance, dance, dance, dance!)
And laugh! (dance, dance, dance, dance!)
A time to dance! (dance, dance, dance, dance!)
It was a pretty simple song really, but it had a catchy
tune. And it came alive immediately when Faith got up and
started dancing.
Faith just jumped around and spun like a little kid. Then
the two Jessis joined in. They werent trying to be sexy, but

152

they couldnt help it. They werent dressed like Separatist girls
for one thing. And they had all of this hair flying around. And
Ricky started really coming down on the guitar while Matt
beat his kettle. Then Luke picked up Tony and started dancing
around with him and he just loved it. And Aisha started
dancing with Luke and Tony. And Levi tried to dance with
Faith but with that game leg he just kind of lurched around. So
everyone was laughing and singing and dancing and the song
just went on and on until the barn door opened and there stood
Gommi and Ommi, the Bontraegers, the Widow Vonhund, and
old man Heckewelder.
+
So it has come to this, Ike Heckewelder said.
Babylon on the floor of the Spirit.
Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, Sister Vonhund
said. Come into His presence with singing.
These girls arent Separatists, Heckewelder said.
And they sure arent coming before the Lord.
The Widow Vonhund spun on the balls of her feet.
God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world
but that the world, through Him, might be saved, she said.
If were truly Christians, it is our duty to welcome these girls
and encourage them to walk in the way of righteousness.
I stand with First Thessalonians, Heckewelder said.
Abstain from the appearance of evil.
Evil? Widow Vonhund said. You look on the bloom
of Gods creation and see evil?
They come to us because theyve seen the film,
Heckewelder said. The come to us out of the same curiosity
that draws one to the carnival show.
Okay, Ommi said, lets all go back to the kitchen and
have another piece of pie and Ill talk to the girls. Im sure we
can make things right. So just go on back to the kitchen and
dont argue. You boys go too. This is just for the girls.
So we left Ommi and the girls to talk. Brother
Heckewelder and Sister Vonhund kept at it though, using the
scripture to fight each other. They both claimed to be
Christians but you could tell they racked the Bible solely to
find ammunition to use against each other. I heard Ommi

153

going in and out of the front door and I guessed what she was
doing.
Sure enough, when we all went out to the barn for the
worship the two Jessi were dressed in prayer bonnets and long
dresses that came from Ommis closet. Then old Zeisberger
read Matthew 25 and said how in his opinion the best way to
feed people, and clothe them, and make sure that they have
what they need, is to give them the means to feed and clothe
themselves. The gift of a practical education is where charity
begins, Zeisberger said.
Then the girls sang Spirit Rain Down. But the Spirit
didnt rain down. The Spirit stayed away, and later, after
everyone was gone and we were stacking the boards up
against the barn wall, Gommi said it was because hearts had
become so hardened.
+
When Ricky and I were on the way back to the bar, I
pulled onto this fire road that came close to the trail that
passed under the serpents promontory and went through the
gorge. I rode it all the time on my dirt bike but Id never had
the 883 on that particular stretch of rough trail but I thought
what the hell? Theres a first time for everything. So we
rode along and right away got an appreciation for the off-road
suspension of the dirt bike. But we rode up to the base of the
promontory where the earths crust juts up and there are all
those caves and I stopped right in front of the altar stone.
We were on state property, and there were tourists up on
the promontory looking down on us, but so what? The ranger
who worked there was too lazy to come after us. Ricky
jumped right up on the altar and sat on these Himalayan prayer
flags that were draped all over the stone for some reason. She
had taken off her Separatist clothes at Gommi and Ommis and
had on jeans and a t-shirt and sat cross-legged on the stone. So
I sat on the stone facing her.
You know what Ommi told us? she said. She said we
need to realize how much men are attracted to us and like to
look at us and Jessi Gipson said we already know and we like
it but Ommi said when men come to worship they dont want
to be distracted so we should cut them some slack and cover
up and Jessi White said if she was turning on Old

154

Heckewelder she wanted to cover up. Then Faith said what

about the Song of Songs? Wasnt that about sexy time? And
Ommi said the Song of Songs wasnt for kids to read so I
asked her if she had a Bible she could give me, and she gave
me this look. But when she came back with the clothes for the
Jessis she gave me this Bible and look she got up and took
the book from my saddle bag. Wheres the Song of Songs?
Ommi gave me a Bible with the hot part missing!
Its the Song of Solomon, I said. Its the same thing.
Anyway, Ricky said, closing the Bible, Sister
Vonhund told us theres an old stomp floor in her barn and that
we can use it to practice our songs anytime we want. Right
there next to the school! Where we already park the bike!
Can you believe it? Stuff like that doesnt happen by mistake,
Jake.
+
When we arrived at the bar Dad and Liz and Hank and
all the Resisters were glued to the TV, watching President
Egesta issuing executive orders. Hank said Egesta didnt have
the constitutional authority to do whatever it was he was doing
but that the Congress wouldnt oppose him because they were
afraid of being called racists. In the kitchen, bus pans were
piled up at the dishwasher.
Let me change clothes and well get to work on this, I
said.
I went upstairs to my room and there on my bed was
copy of Atlas Shrugged. It was so thick and the print was so
small that I was sure no one ever read it. I opened the book
and found the code that would take me to the 33rd Gate of
Resistance.
+
At school, Ricky and I stopped playing Gaia Dancing.
Instead, she read the Bible and I worked on decoding the info
in Atlas Shrugged. It was very specific about the equipment I
had to buy, and how I had to prepare myself, and what the
expectations were. It was very hardcore stuff.
This is nothing like I thought it would be, Ricky said,
looking up from the Bible.
What did you expect?

155

I thought it would be full of Holy Joes, she said. But

everyone is so flawed. Even the good guys. Theyre always
giving in to lust and temptation. So I dont think you should
worry so much. No matter how much a perv you are, you
couldnt be worse than some of these guys.
Whats happening now?
God just lit up Sodom and Lot is getting drunk in a
cave.
The music from the sensory helmets stopped abruptly
and the screen in the front of the room sputtered to life.
We interrupt Gaia Dancing for a message from your
principal.
Students removed their helmets and squinted as they
adjusted to the natural light. Then Alinsky was on the screen,
the teleprompter glowing in his bleary eyes.
Good morning, he read. It has come to my attention
that some students are still not eating the meals provided by
the Federal Food Service. This brings up several issues. First,
these meals are scientifically formulated to help students learn.
Studies show that students who eat Food Service meals do
better on the Federal Standardized Test in school than students
who bring their meals from home. This is settled science. Its
not open to debate.
Secondly, the Food Service meals are formulated to be
allergen free. Of special concern are the nuts, nut bi-products,
and foodstuffs that are produced in nut-tainted facilities.
Thirdly, Alinsky continued, the Food Service
Program, like many other programs, requires full participation
in order to succeed. When fewer payers pay, the cost on those
remaining payers must go up. That too is science. Economic
science.
So when privileged students dont buy lunch, who do
they hurt? Do they hurt me? No, they dont hurt me. I still live
in Servants Quarters with all the other essential government
workers. Do they hurt Ms. Johnson-Johnson? No, she lives
there too. Let me show you who they hurt. Come on, Alinsky
said, looking off camera. Bring them in.
The camera panned back and Fairness Workers wheeled
out kids who had shunts in the backs of their heads, or bags of
urine hanging from their wheelchairs, and kids who were

156

deformed and had tiny heads, or real big heads, or kids who
were fed with tubes, and they all had Fairness Union t-shirts
on.
These are the kids you hurt when you bring your
lunch! Alinsky thundered. All of you kids with your silly
little baggies of sandwiches I want you to take a good hard
look at these poor children who arent as fortunate as you. And
all of you brave boys and girls whove joined the Fairness
Union I want you to look too. These are the kids you are
fighting for I love these children, Alinsky said, his voice
faltering, and if you kids who bring your lunch have one
compassionate bone in your bodies, youll throw those awful
peanut butter sandwiches in the garbage and pay for a food
service meal so these kids wont starve!
+
Alinsky and Johnson-Johnson were at the cafeteria door
with a bunch of FU thugs harassing kids whod brought their
lunches from home. They were finding nuts or nut products
everywhere. And once they found the nutty product, or a
product that had been produced in a facility that also
processed nuts, the whole lunch had to be thrown away
because it was contaminated. They had garbage cans full of
lunches kids had packed at home. And it was mostly kids
whod been home-schooled or church-schooled because they
didnt want to eat the government cheese, because people
suspected it wasnt right, that it was doing something to those
who ate it.
Of course all the kids who ate the school lunches
marched right in to the lunch line and picked up their
prepackage meals in their self-contained little trays.
I watched the two lines, one having their food thrown
away and the other eating for free. It was like the kids in the
two lines were from different worlds. The clothing was
different, the hair was different, even the language. But it was
deeper than that. Much deeper than even in the different
things they thought. The difference was in the way they
thought, in the very constructs of their minds, how they saw
the world and their place in it. I looked at the two lines and it
was like they were moving ever farther apart, like the gulf was
so wide that there was no way anyone could bridge it, like the

157

human race was evolving into two separate branches, one selfreliant and strong, the other dependent and helpless, yet
belligerent in their demand to be equal to those who excelled.
Those jerks arent throwing my lunch away, Ricky
said. Im eating it now.
That seemed like a pretty good idea so I tore into my
sandwich too. Then other kids waiting to have their lunches
thrown away decided to chow down.
Hey, no fair, this twerpy little Wobb whined. So right
away, old Ms. J-J comes down the line pulling that garbage
can behind him/her.
No-no-no, he/she said. Throw em away! Throw em
away. And then all the little lefties lined up for their free
lunch started clapping and cheering.
We walked into the cafeteria and sat with the
Zeisbergers, the Jessis and Sue and Beth, who hung out with
the Jessis because they were boy-crazy and willing to take the
Jessis castoffs.
Then a full milk carton sailed through the air and hit
Faith in the eye. It hit her hard and it hurt her. And all the kids
on the other side of the cafeteria laughed. There was little
Faith with a hole in her heart and hurting and all these kids
were laughing, laughing because she was hurt. So she started
to cry. She cried because of the low meanness of it all.
You should have heard the cheer that went up. Yaa!
Yaa! A sick little girl has been hit in the face and made to cry!
A great blow has been struck for social justice and the rights
of the oppressed! Power t da peepel! Yo! Yo! Yo!
Matt jumped up ready to fight and all the Gaias laughed
at him too. Really, what was he going to do? Its not like the
person who threw the milk carton was going to come forward.
But this big fat Shaneeka with her hair dyed green to show
that she loved the earth got in his face and started doing the
Slobb bob and yelling a bunch of lingo and spraying Matt with
her nasty spittle.
All the Gaias were just laughing their asses off. Oh man,
that was some funny stuff! Even the teachers on lunch duty
were smiling at the antics of this EBT-obese Shaneeka. But I
saw that Faith wasnt doing so well. She seemed not to be able
to catch her breath.

158

Another milk carton exploded on the table in front of

Faith. Then another grazed her cheek. Suddenly all the Gaia
kids were winging cartons of milk at Faith and laughing. And
her face turned purple. We gathered around her and tried to
calm her down, telling her she was alright and we werent
going to let anyone hurt her. We shielded her with our bodies
and the Gaias started throwing trays of food at us, then chairs.
And the teachers on duty did nothing. Finally a bunch FU
guys came running in dressed in the old football uniforms left
over from when the school had a team. But they werent there
to protect us or rescue us. They shoved down like they wanted
us to disappear into the floor.
+
We spent the rest of the afternoon in the ACE room,
ACE standing for Alternative Classroom Environment. No one
brought us clean clothes or checked to see how Faith was
doing. We were just stuck in there with some FU thugs. We
were supposed to plug into Gaia Dancing, but we didnt.
Instead, the girls worked on a song and the guys listened.
After a while I had to take a leak.
I was supposed to ask the thugs on guard-duty for
permission but they were into their helmets, which were
erupting with all manner of screams and cries so I knew they
wouldnt notice me leaving.
I walked down the hall to the restroom where three
Maliqs were doing their make-up in the mirror. Retard, one
said when I walked by. Freak, said another.
I let it pass and went into one of the stalls. I just wanted
to pee and leave.
I heard the Maliqs giggling. Then the condoms of urine
came over the door.
+
When attacked, counter attack immediately with every
resource at hand. Fight ruthlessly with all youve got. Seize
the offensive. Never go into a defensive crouch if you can do
otherwise.
I broke through the stall door and the Maliqs were
already on the run. I put down the closest kid with a punch to
the back on the head. I tripped another, then grabbed the

159

greasy hair of the third, pulling his head back and hammering
his nose like a nail.
My shirt, which was soaked with milk from the cafeteria
attack, was now dripping with piss so I pulled it off and
surveyed the shirts of the three Maliqs on the restroom floor.
The guy with the busted nose was bloody as hell and the kid
gasping for air was a lice motel if I ever saw one.
Give me your shirt, I told the guy Id tripped.
He said something I couldnt understand so I pulled off
my belt and whacked him. He started crying so I gave him
another whack.
Why yo doin dis? Why yo doin dis? he cried,
mascara running down his face.
Talk right, I said, whacking him.
What do you want me to say?
I squatted and looked him in the eye. Do you really not
know why Im hitting you?
No, he said, tearing up again.
Stop crying, I said. Whyd you throw piss on me?
Cuz, he said.
Cuz what?
Cuz raciss
I looked at him, the fake diamonds dangling from his
ears, his skin dyed reddish brown, the drops showing in his
glassy eyes. There was no reasoning with him. He was past
that.
Give me your shirt, I said.
+
After school we went over to the Vonhund barn with the
Jessis and the Zeisbergers. Beth and Sue came over too with
Levi Cohen and this older guy who I didnt recognize at first
because he had changed so much.
D.B. Wells had just gotten out of prison for attempting to
kill the director of the documentary that was supposed to be
about the uncanny musical abilities of the White family but
then became about the awful homophobia of rural America.
D.B. had tried to disembowel the famous documentarian but,
because the film maker was so obese, only managed to spill a
gooey apron of yellow fat before being disarmed.

160

At the trial, the judge asked D.B. if he wanted to

apologize for what he had done, whereupon D.B. turned to the
flabby film maker and told him that hed truly finish the job if
he heard the director ever drugged and raped another boy. The
judge said D.B. showed no remorse and sentenced him to an
adult facility to teach him a lesson.
I wasnt thrilled to see D.B. He was in his mid-twenties
and by the scars on his face and the size of his biceps hed
obviously spent his time in the pen lifting weights and
fighting. But he was a distant scousin, so I shook his hand and
said hello.
Feather Boy? D.B. said, looking at me with vague
recognition.
Well we found the stomp floor boards stacked up against
the back wall and started putting it together.
This thing is huge, Jessi Gipson said.
Dad said a big congregation met here years ago, Faith
said. Then they disagreed about whether Adam and Eve had
navels and split up.
Dad was just joking when he said that about navels,
Matt said.
No, Faith said. He was serious. They really split up
over something so stupid.
We got a section of the floor together and there were still
several sections stacked up against the wall.
Beth looked up at the high tin roof of the barn. You
mean this used to be a church?
The floor was the church, Faith said, but I could tell
Beth didnt get it.
Ricky stomped a beat and the floor sounded real deep,
resonant and shaky.
It wants to come alive, Mark said. Its been here all
these years waiting for someone to come and kick and now it
cant hold back.
Ricky started singing words shed put to a Hank Goins
tune and the Jessis picked it up.
Theres freedom in the Lord Christ Jesus
Theres forgiveness in calling out His name
Theres power in the Lord Christ Jesus
Sue smirked and Beth laughed outright.

161

What are you laughing at? Jessi Gipson asked.

Come on, Beth said. Jesus? I mean, really? Jesus?
You got a problem with that, bitch?
No Jessi. I don got no problem.
You better not have a problem, Jessi said. Cause if
you got a problem with Jesus, you got a problem with me.
Now help us sing this song. Its real simple so even morons
like you can pick it up. And talk right.
So everyone was singing and stomping and the sound
swirled up and around in that big empty barn, echoing off the
walls and the roof, causing pigeons to fly around. And the
floor was shaking so you could feel the vibration in your guts
and the girls were belting out the song and Ricky and Faith got
up and danced. Then the Jessis started jumping around,
making the floor shake.
Haw- lan lakh-ma dsoonqa-nan yoo-mana, Ricky
sang out, the words tripping off her tongue so fast.
Dsoonqa-nan yoo-mana!
Faith and the Jessis sang it back.
Sue and Beth looked at each other like theyd just
realized they were dining with cannibals, but Ricky and the
Jessis laughed and after a while Sue and Beth got up and
danced too.
Im healed! Levi Cohen shouted, dragging that lame
leg of his all over the floor. Thank-ye, Jesus! Thank-ye,
Lord! Im healed of ADHD! I can finally concentrate!
Matt laughed so hard he rolled on the floor. It was the
way Levi said it, I guess. It hit everyones funny bone and
everyone was bent over laughing while Levi limped around
yelling, Im healed! Im healed!
Almost everyone.
+
D.B. Wells stood off to the side holding the full
expanding file folder he brought with him from prison.
I didnt know if we could deal with a guy like D.B. I
didnt know what prison had done to him. I didnt know if he
was crazy or what.
Whats wrong, D.B.? Jessi Gipson asked.

162

D.B. shook his head. I just cant believe it, he said, a

tear rolling down his cheek. I cant believe the Lord lead me
here.
+
Ricky and I were late getting back to the bar. We planned
to sneak in through the brew-thru, start running dishes and act
like wed been there for longer than we had been. It was a
stupid plan but it was all we had.
Unfortunately, Hank and Dad were manning the brewthru.
Can we talk to you? Dad said to me. Alone.
Secret Resistance stuff, huh? Ricky said.
Dad gave her a sour look and she went inside.
How are you doing with Atlas Shrugged? Dad asked.
I finished it, I said.
Impossible, Hank said.
Just because youre a slow reader dont think I am, I
said. Ask me anything.
Who stands in the 21st gate?
The Money Changers, I said. Those who give bad
value for good money. They are those who Christ, by His
example, instructs us to drive from the marketplace.
And next to the Money Changers? Dad asked.
Judas, I said. The infiltrator. The informer. The
enemy within. The one who betrays with a kiss.
The 24th?
Thomas stands there, I said. The skeptic. The one
who must see to believe.
Hank nodded. Whos at the 32rd?
Peter, I said. The first to draw a weapon in defense of
the Founder of Civilization. The cornerstone of our
Resistance.
We wouldnt be taking you in if we didnt need fighters
so bad, Hank said.
Thanks for your vote of confidence, I replied.
Its true, Hank said. I dont care if you do know your
lines. You dont have a clue as to whats coming at us. You got
the money for your equipment?
I have more than enough, I said. You want it now?

163

Well take it when the stuff gets here, Hank said. Just
dont spend it on leather pants for Ricky.
+
Business at the bar was dead that afternoon.
Liz and Ricky worked the front. Aisha and I were in the
kitchen. But nobody was coming in, so Ricky and Aisha
started fooling around on the piano.
I sat on a bar stool next to Liz and watched President
Egesta give a speech on TV and it was really getting on my
nerves because he had this stupid refrain going (Let my
people vote!) and his audience was jumping on it.
And my opponent says you need to prove who you are
at the ballot box! To him I say LET MY PEOPLE VOTE!
It was such a joke. Everyone knew Egesta used voter
fraud as a campaign strategy. Now they were trying to make
fraud a civil right.
Liz shook her head. We waited too long, she said.
While the left bred an army of idiots we wasted time listening
to Glenn Beck on the radio. She looked out the window at a
panel truck pulling into the parking lot. Now its come to
this, she said.
+
I went in the kitchen and gathered up some food and put
it in a bag.
Im locking the door, I said to Ricky and Aisha, but
they were thumping on the piano so I was dismissed with a
backhanded finger flourish.
Walking in the shadows with the bag of food, I could see
Liz and Dad and Hank in the brew-thru talking to the guys
who came in the panel truck. I went into the barn and put the
food in the saddlebags of the 883. I pushed the bike out
through the field to the road then coasted down the hill for a
good quarter of a mile before I started the engine because Dad
didnt need to know I was gone. Just before I got to Route 50,
I came upon a Fairness Union road block.
The FU stopped people on the road for a safety check,
then theyd siphon out half your gas for a Fairness Tax.
I slowed down. There were three of them with an old van
pulled across the middle of the road. So I just crept up on them
real slow like I was going to stop.

164

Yo-yo-yo! one called.

He reached out to take my handlebars and I turned hard
and twisted the throttle back, shooting around the van on the
berm.
Yo-yo-yo!
I was on the throttle the rest of the way. I pulled into the
field next to the school and brought my bike around behind
Vonhunds barn. D.B. swung the door open and, as I coasted
past him, he stood at attention and quickly drew his right
thumb across his waist in a fast jerk. The movement was
quick, but so stylized that I knew it was intentional.
What was that? I asked, shutting off the bike.
What was what? he said.
I made the same gesture, a gesture Id been taught at the
10th gate.
Something I learned in prison, D.B. said.
I made the first part of the gesture of the twentieth gate.
D.B. completed it. I didnt know if I should trust him or not.
Youre right to be doubtful, D.B. said. The secret
signs and passwords of the Resistance are anything but secret.
The temple is full of money changers and Judas was once a
trusted member of the inner circle.
He made another gesture, so fast and faint that someone
seeing it wouldnt think twice.
Im not there yet, I said.
But you are going there?
Yes, I said.
Then well talk about it then, D.B. said.
I brought you some food, I said, And a sleeping bag.
We walked to the stomp floor and sat down. D.B. had a
bunch of papers paper spread out, filled from edge to edge
with tiny handwriting.
Whats this? I asked.
I write, D.B. said, gathering the papers and stuffing
them into the expanding folder.
What do you write?
Novels and short stoires, he said. Beth brought me
blankets and food too. Ive got so much food I dont know
what to do with it. Are you hungry? Will you eat with me?

165

I never know what to say to someone, but alone someone

whod just gotten out of prison for trying to kill a guy. So I sat
down on the stomp floor and had a very uncomfortable
sandwich with D.B. Wells.
Youre the Feather Boy, D.B. said.
Usually those were fighting words, but D.B.s biceps
made me think twice. And besides, he didnt seem to be
insulting me. It was just a statement of fact. I was the child
filmed stomping the floor while shaking feathers. There was
no way around that. I was featured in the films trailer.
I was the one who filmed you, D.B. said. I was at the
service that Sunday and I had the camera in a ball cap Moore
had given me that fat bastard. I was supposed to film
Separatist stomping and I got you. He paid me to do it. He
paid me money and he paid me attention. Two things I had
none of. Im sorry I did that to you. But Im not that person
anymore. But if you hate me But I want you to know that
were alike I mean the feather thing Its something in our
genes like we were bred too close or something though I
never used feathers
I looked at him and he was avoiding direct eye contact
while watching me with his peripheral vision.
How are we alike? I asked.
You cant lie, can you? he said. I mean you dont see
the social reasons for lying. And you hate groups. You
couldnt fit in if you wanted to, which you dont. Chit-chat is
like a foreign language and you never know when its your
turn to talk. You probably got some weird thing with numbers
and you cant bear to have strange people touch you. You cant
fake empathy and the few people you care about can be
counted on one hand. Right? And then theres the stimming.
You still do it, dont you? You dont have to answer. I know
how close thats held. But its such a a
Outlet, I said. Its a way to purge all the shit that
normal people lay on you.
We were quiet for a moment.
Look, D.B., I said. Weve got a campground with a
latrine and running water and showers and a barn with a wood
burning stove in it. If you want to sleep over there no one will
bother you. Ill see to that.

166

Thanks, he said. But I prefer being here. Im sure

you understand.
I started my motorcycle and D.B. held the barn door
open. I rolled up to him and stopped.
Seven, I said. I care about seven people. But one of
them is dead.
+
I rode home on the gorge trails so as to avoid
redistributing my wealth to the FU goons on the road. When I
finally coasted into the parking lot of the Bluegrass, several
guys were waiting on the steps and I knew what was about to
happen.
So I stood before the 33rd Gate that night and swore upon
pain of having my body opened and my entrails burned to
ashes before my eyes should I ever compromise my beliefs,
retreat from fight unless I was outnumbered by more than four
to one, or surrender on the field of battle.
Then I was cut just above my belt on my right side and
my blood added to the noose that was taken from my neck. It
was then that I was shown the gesture of the 33rd gate, the
same gesture D.B. Wells had shown me not two hours earlier.
+
The Resistance assumed the government would infiltrate
our ranks. Thats why no one got in unless another member
vouched for that candidate. Beyond that, every squad of
twelve had a Doubting Thomas whose job it was to constantly
be on the lookout for a Judas. Two squads made up a platoon,
which also had a Doubter to doubt everyone else, including
the squad Doubters. Three platoons made up a company,
which was the largest combat unit in a cell, consisting of less
than 100 fighters, who were each responsible for supplying
their own boots, beans, bullets, guns and armor.
Beyond the company level, there was no structural
coordination with other Resistance cells. The Resistance was
decentralized, with no single leader to assassinate, no
headquarters to raid, no master list of members. In practice,
every cell functioned independently, tied together by core
beliefs, first and foremost of which stated that members would
do whatever was necessary in defense of the Bill of Rights,
Western Civilization and the free markets of produce and

167

ideas. In short, we believed the founding fathers of the United

States got it right.
+
I didnt respect the leader of my squad. He was supposed
to be in charge of my training and I knew I could outperform
him with any weapon in our arsenal. I could outrun him and in
a fist fight I would have him down and out in less than a
minute, guaranteed.
How am I supposed to take orders from a guy like
that? I asked Dad back at the bar.
People are imperfect, Dad said. You have to start
somewhere and this is the place youre starting. Youll soon
reach another place. Youll have your own squad. Then youll
have your own company. I followed his gaze up to the clock
over the bar. 11:20. Were almost out of time, Dad said.
The Resistance needs to grow and grow fast. We need allies
but I have no idea who they will be.
I went to my room and Ricky had a text waiting for me
on my phone. Aisha and I printed business cards tonight!
They are so cool!
+
We ran a little late the next morning. First, we packed up
the 883. Then Ricky decided it smelled like rain and we
should take the truck. So when we finally pulled into
Vonhunds barn, the Zeisbergers and the two Jessis were
already there. D.B. must have stayed up all night because the
place was spotless and he had put the other sections of the
stomp floor together.
I kicked a little and the reverberation was something
else.
Beth and Sue came in with Levi and some kid who
blinked too much.
Thads fucked up, Levi told Ricky. Hes in his fifth
foster home because no one wants him. He wants to get
healed.
Fucked up, Thad said, blinking. Got problems.
Well getting healed is up to you, Ricky said. Youve
got to want it.
Want it, Thad blinked. Ready for a change.

168

Well can you come back after school? Ricky said.

Thad blinked and nodded.
I made business cards, Ricky said, giving everyone a
stack. Pass these out to likely converts.
On one side the card said Resist Now!
The other side was filled with a big plus sign.
And we gotta get the plus sign painted on the side of the
barn asap. She turned to D.B. If we gave you money, could
you go to Bainbridge today and get paint?
Yes, D.B. said. I can do that.
Whoa, I said. You cleared this with Sister Vonhund?
Ill take care of Sister Vonhund, Ricky said. You just
give D.B. the cash and figure out the best way to get that plus
sign on the barn. Its gotta be big and its gotta face the school.
I saw all this stuff in a dream last night so dont even question
me about it. And we need t-shirts too. With big plus signs on
the front. Im putting you in charge of that Beth.
Beth nodded. She was sitting next to D.B.
Anyone hungry? D.B. asked. Beth had brought a
dozen glazed donuts and he still had the stuff Id brought him
from the night before.
Ill say the blessing, Faith said.
We joined hands like the Separatists do and when Faith
was finished praying, Beth and D.B. still held on to each other.
I wish we could stay here instead of going to school,
Levi said. Its good not to have people picking on you and
saying mean things.
Thad blinked. Good here, he said.
We ate the donuts and passed a bottle of grape juice
around. It started raining and we sat there listening to the
water wash over that big tin roof.
+
We opened the barn door and saw the flashing red lights
of the buses reflecting in the puddles of the parking lot so that
it looked like a lake of fire.
What now? Ricky said. There was a line of students
backed up from the door to the bus lot.
We walked across the field to the school under an old
tarp that was in the barn. We took our time because the line
wasnt moving. Kids just stood around in the rain without

169

umbrellas or raincoats or anything. But we had that tarp so we

went to the back of the line and let the rain pound down. Matt
was in the middle with his hands up acting like the tent post
and Jessi White had her arms around him. Hannah Nickels ran
over and got under the tarp with us.
Youre our newest member, Ricky said, handing her a
business card.
Hannah looked at the card. Resist what? she asked.
The Hollywood/Washington shit show, Mark said.
And their useful idiots who believe socialist
authoritarianism is inevitable, Luke added.
Hannah turned the card over and looked at the oversized
+.
Whats the name of your club? Hannah asked.
No one knows, Faith said. Its the club with no
name.
Sounds like something Id be interested in, Hannah
said.
We were having a good time under the tarp. The girls
smelled good and they looked great. Even little Faith. Shed
become just as cute as a delicate little flower and you could
see she was really enjoying her life.
We were carried along by the crowd until we could see
the Fairness Workers dividing kids into lines. The kids dressed
like Gaias waltzed through; other kids were getting the rough
hand job to see that they werent trying to sneak in something
that wasnt permitted. It wasnt hard to predict who the
Fairness guys were going to pat down. Just pick a girl youd
like to feel-up and thats who the Fairness Workers were going
after.
So this guy tried to put Ricky in the feel-up line.
I dont think so, I said
I gots ahtority, he said, patting the helping hand on his
t-shirt.
Touch her, I said, and Ill knock your teeth out of
your ass.
He didnt want to mess with me so he waved us through.
These Catholic guys, who thought they were hot shit
because theyd played football for Bishop Fenwick High

170

before the school was closed, stood in the lobby watching

Peepers Potok fondle Maria SanJorge.
You guys like to watch your girlfriends get felt up?
Jessi Gipson said. She went up to the guys OConnor and
DeMarco were their names and stuck business cards in their
shirt pockets. OConnor threw his card on the floor but
DeMarco read his.
We went down to the BDU room and Ms. BrownButtafuoco was watching the highlights of the recent
presidential debate on TV.
Egesta spouts some worn-out platitude about justice for
all and the audience goes nuts.
Then Senator Milquetoast counters with his own
platitude about liberty and freedom and an embarrassing
silence ensues.
Egesta shakes his head in pity. My plan is to supply
every citizen with a portable, wireless work stations that will
provide income and education for all Americans at an
unprecedented level! Egesta says, and the studio audience
erupts.
That sounds good, Senator Milquetoast says, but how
are you going to manage full employment when the power
grid keeps collapsing?
The power grid is a thing of the past, Egesta declares.
This is the dawning of a Brave New World! And everyone
cheers.
Egesta says he has a plan to give everyone a job, and it is
something anyone can do from his or her own apartment, from
his or her own bed if he or she wants, in his or her pajamas,
working as much or as little as suits him or her. Egesta says
that after an initial investment, his plan will bring forth a
cultural revolution that will fundamentally change America.
He says his plan will cut down on carbon emissions, close the
education gap, and once and for all make everyone equal. He
says its something all Americans will be involved in together,
making us a single community, with the same goals and the
same group experiences. The age of personal methane
reclamation is upon us! he exclaims.
The audience stands and cheers.

171

My fellow Americans, Senator Milquetoast says when

the applause finally died, I want a Brave New World just as
much as you do, but personal methane reclamation is a pipe
dream. The technology is simply not here yet.
Not true, Senator. Not true! I am here to announce an
astonishing breakthrough that will fundamentally change
America. I am wearing methane reclamation briefs as we
speak!
President Egesta stepped out from behind the podium, a
long, black, tube dangling from his open zipper.
Bring it out, Toure, the President said.
Toure LeMay, the Presidents new husband, brought
out a small computer and placed it on the podium.
Insert this tube into the fuel portal of the work station,
Egesta said, inserting the tube, and anyone eating a Federal
Food Service diet will be able to power their own work
station.
President Egesta plugged in the tube and the computer
came to life. Slip your EBT card in the slot, Egesta said,
pushing in a card, an sit back an earn while ya learn!
Earn while ya learn! the debate audience chanted.
Earn while ya learn!
Even Senator Milquetoast joined in with chanting.
Dont tell him I said this, the Senator said to the studio
audience, raising his hand to the side of his mouth like he was
sharing a secret, but hes a very impressive fellow in many
ways!
+
The class settled into their plasma bags and put on their
sensory helmets. I tried to read but I couldnt concentrate. I
kept looking over at Ricky. She was like a magnetic. She
pulled at me like the moon pulled the ocean.
Its really hard for me to study when you stare at me
that way, she said. She was working on a plan to spread
resistance study groups throughout public schools and
colleges.
Sorry, I said, but kept staring.
She sighed and looked up with those weird green eyes.
Lets bug out, I said.
Whats that supposed to mean?

172

I leaned forward and picked up her smell, that

intoxicating scent that got under my skin and made the blood
race. We dont have to deal with this bullshit, I said. Lets
build a cabin out in the woods. Lets grow a big garden. Have
bees and goats. Just go away someplace wild and be alone.
But we do have to deal with this bullshit, Ricky said.
If we dont give Western Civilization something to believe in
were all going to end up as Soylent Green.
Then the fire alarm rang.
+
We go this-a way, Brown-Buttafuoco said, pointing
against the flow of the students in the hall. No, she said.
We go that-a way.
Whats happening? students wanted to know. It cant be
a drill. During a drill, all the crippled kids are taken from the
building before the alarm goes off and those kids are
obviously in the hall now because no one is moving. Is it a
real fire?
Then students became charged with panic as they
learned from their phones that the school was being evacuated
due to toxic contamination. They pushed for the exits but had
nowhere to go in halls clogged by wheelchairs, gurneys and
the motorized carts of morbidly obese teachers.
Something happened behind us. Someone screamed and
the students pushed harder. I dragged Ricky over to a
classroom door marked Social Studies and pulled her in.
Those who do not learn from Social Studies are
doomed to repeat it, Ricky said as we climbed out of the
window and dropped to the wet grass.
Fire trucks rolled up with firepersons with respirators
over their faces, and right behind them came a Fairness News
crew in a van. The crew got out and students and teachers
immediately began falling to the ground, convulsing for the
cameras.
Oh, for crying out loud! one older fireman said,
throwing his respirator on the ground. A few other firemen
were obviously disgusted as well, but a couple of the younger
firepersons wanted the older guys to put the respirators back
on.

173

Were not letting you turn your back on these children!

one of the younger guys declared dramatically. He was
Fairness Union guy, one of the millions Egesta hired to work
in fire departments, schools, and police departments, even
though they didnt know anything about fighting fires,
teaching, or police work. Egesta did it, he said, to combat
unemployment and fight racism, but everyone knew the FU
was there to report anyone who spoke against equality,
fairness or Moloch Peor Egesta.
Then I saw them: Newly made American citizens
marching from Diversity Estates, shuffling up Bainbridge
Road on bad feet shod in run-down house slippers, advancing
slowly under the burden of their great girth. Toddling,
wobbling, sweating profusely in gamey, sauce-stained sweat
pants, and extra-large Fairness t-shirts stretched over globular
torsos.
The order had gone out and this army was on the move,
marching against hate, inequality and privilege. Like a great
glacier of adipose tissue, these soldiers advanced across the
land until they were before the cameras of the Fairness News
crew, whereupon they carefully lay down, twitching, jerking
and farting.
+
I looked out over the schoolyard. The Zeisbergers and
the Jessis were easily found since so many kids were on the
ground, thrashing.
Someone found a peanut in the hall, Jessi Gipson said.
Thats what this is about. A fucking peanut.
Everyone standing gets a business card, Ricky said.
So we walked around getting the word out, telling kids they
werent alone, that is was alright not to go along with the
crowd, that it was good to be an individual, when I saw Dr.
Alinsky coming out of the school.
He was a schlumpy guy, Alinsky. Most of it was how he
walked, the way his feet paddled out to the side. In the past, he
wouldve been eaten by a wolf before he could pass his
paddlefoot mutation along. Now he lived in luxury in
Servants Quarters with other essential government workers.
Can I see one of those cards, he said.
Sure, I said, handing him one.

174

You know I could charge you with hate speech for

passing this out.
You can charge me with hate speech for anything, I
said. Isnt that the idea behind hate speech laws?
Alinsky laughed and looked out over the bodies lying on
the ground.
It looks like the aftermath of Picketts charge, he said.
Do you even know what Picketts charge was?
It was a failed Confederate infantry assault at the Battle
of Gettysburg.
Wow! Check out the brain on Dr. White! Alinsky said.
None of these kids know anything about Picketts charge, he
said, gesturing toward students on the ground. Theyve never
heard of Gettysburg and couldnt tell you what the Civil War
was about if their lives depended on it. Ask them about the
Federalist Papers and they havent a clue. See how well
Americas educators have done their job? Gluttonous low-info
voters by the bushel! Care for a nut?
Alinsky opened his palm, revealing a single shelled
peanut.
No thanks, I said.
Alinsky laughed and threw the nut in his mouth.
Youve got the whole package, dont you? he said. Youre
witty, handsome, and have a cute little girlfriend. And thats
why I am going to enjoy destroying you. Thats why Im
gonna smear your reputation and paint you as a crazy
rightwing, hypocritical religious nutjob.
He was looking for some kind of reaction so I gave him
none.
You really dont think I care about people, do
you?Alinsky continued. I dont. I dont care about niggers
or spics or retards or queers or anyone else. I dont care if
America goes bankrupt and every baby is born a povertystricken bastard enslaved to debt and ignorance for the rest of
their miserable lives. Western civilization could be submerged
in piss for all I care. But its you and people like you that I
hate most. The smart boys. The handsome boys, who never
looked my way, who always won at games, whove never
been laughed at, or felt the bitter humiliation of failure and
shame like I have. Youre the reason I became an educator,

175

see. Youre the reason Im an official in the Fairness Union.

Because I want to see people like you destroyed! I want you
crushed under the weight of an all-powerful state, a state that
will be run by people like me, for people like me, and that will
not tolerate anyone having one jot more than I have. There! I
said it! And if you tell anyone, Ill call you a liar and Ill be
the one whos believed!
Beads of sweat had broken out on his upper lip and a
blue vein was bobbing in his forehead.
Youre bitter because of the victimhood youve
embraced, I shrugged. Youre caught in the feedback loop of
your own self-fulfilling failure just like all of these losers
wallowing on the ground. Youre no different than them.
Except for vocabulary, youre exactly the same.
Alinskys face grew red. For a minute I thought his head
would explode. Then he thought of something to say: You
killed your mother the day you were born, he said. Of
course, she was just a child herself. But how does that feel,
Feather Boy? To rip your mother so badly that she dies?
Behind Alinsky, across the parking lot, D.B. Wells was
up on a rickety ladder, spray painting a huge blaze orange plus
sign on the side of Vonhunds barn.
+
They shut the school to decontaminate it. That was the
excuse anyway. Schools across the country were closed for
one reason or another. Teachers were on strike, or mold had
been found in the HVACs, or the power was off, or nuts had
been spread by nut terrorists.
We met at Vonhunds barn every day me, Ricky, the
Zeisbergers, Aisha, the two Jessis, Levi and Thad, Beth and
Sue, and D.B., who we called the Night Watchman because he
lived there. We kicked it out on floor and other kids began to
show up, mostly White kids, or Separatist kids. Then there
were those who showed up because they wanted to rebel and
they heard we were Christians, and because being a Christian
was the most non-conformist thing a person could possibly be
and would really upset their parents.
Ricky made up quotes from The Gospel of Able,
whose eponymous author was forever trying to persuade his
brother, Disable, to give up bitter jealousy and do something

176

useful with his life rather than sitting on his ass all day
bitching about what a victim he was.
Disable was the worlds first socialist, she said to a
couple of hundred kids one morning. He was the first thirdrater. A lousy leftist loafer. He put this shitty product in front
of God and expected to get the same reward as Able, who
brought his A game to the table. God told Disable he needed to
raise the bar. Instead Disable sought to bring his brother down,
and that, ladies and gentleman, is the essence of socialism. Its
equality through mandatory mediocrity. Its the meaningless
plastic trophy everyone gets for showing up.
Jesus wants us to make ourselves stronger, Ricky
said. He wants us to be healthy and he wants us to be brave
and defend people who are getting bullied so we can bring
them to Him, so He can make them stronger so they can go
out and get others and make them stronger. He doesnt want us
to be victims; He wants us to be victors. He doesnt want us to
be whiners; He wants us to be winners. He didnt give us a
spirit of timidity, but one of power. He doesnt want us to
conform to the ways of this world. He wants us to fight against
it.
But what about 1st Peter? Faith asked. What about
being submissive to authority, even if the authority is
unreasonable? What about turning the other cheek?
Good question, Faith, Ricky said, and right away I
knew the question was a plant. The early church Peter was
writing to was flying under the radar in order to avoid
persecution. Keeping a low profile was good advice in the
Roman Empire when no one had religious liberty. But our
forefathers gave us liberties the early church could only dream
about, and we have the responsibility to defend those liberties
from lying politicians who claim to take our freedom away for
our own safety. Think of Jesus going head to head with the
Pharisees. He sure wasnt being submissive. Or when he ran
the money changers out of the temple with a whip! Or Moses
standing up to Pharaoh. Or Shadrach, Meshach and
Abednego refusing to bow to the king of Babylon. Christianity
isnt a religion for pussies. Its a religion for rebels!
Now, if anyone wants to learn how to defend
themselves and others, weve got two of the best fighters in

177

Adams County right over there. D.B. and Josh can show you
what you need to know! And if you need to learn how to read
the Great Books of Western Civilization because the public
schools have filled your head with PC BS, Faith is a great
teacher! So wherever youre weak, we want to make you
stronger! Jesus wants you to be stronger. He doesnt want us
to be fearful. He wants us to be powerful, loving of one
another, and smart.
Thad and Levi were our first students and I thought it
was a waste of time trying to teach them Krav Maga. But they
applied themselves and exercised like crazy and pretty soon
two muscular little guys stood before me where puny little
twerps stood before. They transformed themselves, and that
encouraged other little twerps to join our ranks and take up
Krav Maga.
Then Ricky said that we should build a fitness course in
Vonhunds field with stations along the way where runners
would have to do push-ups and situps and climb a rope and
things like that.
Therell be thirty-three stations in all, she said, and
each station will stand for a principle of Western Civilization
and Christianity and Krav Maga, which course runners will
have to know. And there will be a shooting range where well
practice with slingshots and bows that well make ourselves.
Well going to start a Resistance cell? D.B. said. I
love it!
Were going to start resistance cells, Ricky said.
Were going to spread them to every high school and college
campus across America.
Howre we gonna do that, Marks asked.
Ricky shrugged. Facebook. Youtube. Well plant the
seeds and God will make them grow if He wants them to.
+
Soon we had a pretty good collection of free weights that
kids had dug out of basements and garages. Then we made
exercise benches with the old tools and scraps of lumber that
were in the barn.
So kids were studying martial arts, and pumping iron,
and reading books and building things. And these were kids
whod never done anything but play computer games before.

178

And it changed them. And other kids saw the change and
wanted in on it. So our numbers grew.
Then one day, Matt and I were timing some girls who
were running the course when this car load of Catholics pulled
up.
What do those assholes want? Matt muttered.
I dont know but Im gonna find out, I said.
Inside the barn, OConnor, the DeMarco brothers and
Maria Sanjorge were watching the girls kick out a new song
on the stomp floor. As usual, the tune was derived from a
Hank Goins song, but the words were, They wouldnt bow!
They wouldnt bend! They wouldnt tremble!
What do you want? I said.
OConnor turned to face me and I squared my stance. I
had sworn to the rule of no first aggression at the 33rd gate but
considerable latitude is permitted when it comes to the
intentions of those clearly identified as enemies. I mean,
youre not expected to stand there and take a sucker punch.
Remember what we came here for, Danny, Maria said.
She was a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty and she was
getting into the song, moving a little to the beat. Remember,
she said, one love, one heart. She ran up on the stomp floor
when Ricky motioned her to come.
I asked you what the hell you want, I said to
OConnor. He sized me up with his dead blue eyes. He was
the type of guy whod come at my face with his fists. I would
block the blow and smash his nose with my forehead. Then Id
go for the biggest DeMarco if D.B. or Matt wasnt already on
him.
Im not afraid of you, OConnor said. Dont think for
one minute Im afraid of you.
Knock it off, Danny, said DeMarco. We dont want to
fight.
Thats not exactly true, OConnor said. We want to
fight. We just dont want to fight you. But its not because
were afraid of you.
We want in, DeMarco said.
You want in what? Matt asked.

179

This, DeMarco said, gesturing vaguely to barn. We

want to be part of what youre doing. Youre the only ones
fighting against whats happening so we want to be part of it.
You cant be part of it, I said. If youre in, youre
all in.
All in, OConnor said, extending his hand.
I looked at the hand. The singing died up on the floor. I
turned and saw Ricky and Maria Sanjorge watching.
+
DeMarco and OConnor had a band. They had amps and
microphones and an electric guitar, a bass and a drum set and
a keyboard that Maria SanJorge played. They werent any
good but Ricky told them they were and we started a fund to
buy a top notch video camera so they could become stars on
YouTube. We all kicked in a couple of bucks and OConnor,
whose parents were wealthy, kicked in the rest. So D.B. would
videotape all the songs and load them up to Youtube where
theyd get a few hundred views until D.B. decided we had a
better version. Then hed take the old video down and post the
new one.
The band practiced every day and slowly got better.
They learned how to play with the stomping and not to
overwhelm the vocals. I give them that. So when school was
finally called back into session we had a couple hundred
stompers on the floor and we cranked the speakers up and
blasted music out the barn door as the buses came in.
I even walked over to the bus lot to listen and it was like
one big booming voice was rolling across the field and all the
kids in the lot just stood and stared.
Freedom! Freedom! Raise your hands! Praise the
Lord!
The loft door swung open at the top of that big blaze
orange + and the Jessis and Aisha were up there stomping in
the loft. And, oh, the Slobbs! The sight of Aisha laughing and
dancing with her baby in her arms really set them to
jibberjabbering.
Alinsky came paddling out into the bus lot. What?
What? he ejaculated, white foam in the corners of his mouth.
Well something reached out from the barn and touched
me. It made me laugh because I knew what I was going to do

180

next and it was hilarious. Or maybe it wasnt hilarious, but I

sure thought it was at the time.
I started kicking it right there in the bus lot. Right there
in front of Alinsky. I started kicking it and singing along with
Ricky Jesus! Jesus! and just stomping it out like crazy on
the asphalt.
Stop it! Alinsky screamed, his flabby face turning red.
Stop it right now! Youre not allowed to say that! Do you
hear me? Stop it!
Raise your hands! Praise the Lord! I danced around
him with my hands up in the air. Je-sus! Je-sus!
Stop it! Goddamn you!
Other kids were laughing now, clapping along to the
throbbing beat.
Ei-chana dap khnan shwiq-gan, lkhava ween ween
ween, lkhava! Ricky sang into the microphone. And the
Separatist kids really thought that was funny. And they werent
laughing at it. They were laughing with it. It was just
something freaky and weird and in-your-face. It was just
something the Holy Ghost would do to get a rise, because Hes
like that. He has this ironic sense of humor and can be
sarcastic as hell. People who dont know have no feel for this,
but its true. God is quite the jokester really. Just look at a
zebra or a giraffe.
Alinsky doubled up his puffy little fists and hit me in the
jaw with all his might.
Hit me again, you Commie cocksucker, I said, tapping
my other cheek. And I laughed so hard I could barely stand up.
And all around me kids had videotaped the whole deal with
their phones.
+
A few days after that, a group of Slobbs showed up at the
barn after school.
No bones, DeMarco told them.
No bones, the biggest one said, pointing to the empty
hole on the side of his nose.
It doesnt matter if youve got them in your nose or in
your pocket, I said. We dont want them around us.
Understand? It doesnt matter if its legal or not. We dont give
a shit what the law says. We wont have it around us. Period.

181

They dont understand a word you said, OConnor

snorted. Lets kick their asses.
D.B. Wells walked up with a brand new + tattoo on his
neck. Whats this? he asked. The tat was raw and bloody.
Were trying to tell these idiots to shove off, OConnor
said.
D.B. looked at the Slobs. Youve come here for a
reason? he asked.
They looked at D.B. and swallowed hard. He was a hard
guy to look at, especially with that bleeding + on his neck.
We taked da bones, the big one said.
You helped give the girls abortions? D.B. asked.
Ya, the Slobb said.
Lets get em outa here, OConnor said. Whatre we
waiting for?
D.B. shook his head. Theyre taught from childhood
that abortion is a good thing, he said. If they dont go along,
theyre ridiculed. Then, once they have blood on their hands,
self-justification takes over. They have to believe its okay
because if its not, my God, what have they done?
What makes you such an expert? DeMarco asked.
I had a Slobbovian cellmate, D.B. said. Their culture
is total shit but theyre human like everyone else. No better,
but no worse. And redemption is just as possible for them as it
is for you. D.B. turned back to the Slobbs. What happened
when you aborted the babies?
Dey move, the big one said.
Yes, D.B. said. They move because theyre babies.
We call them fetuses to try to hide that fact, but we know they
are really babies. And the babies move because theyre alive
and they feel pain.
The Slobbovians looked down at the ground.
And you came here, D.B. continued, because late at
night, when the bullshit lifts, you know that murdering babies
is one of the worst things a person can do. And youve heard
there might be a way for you to be forgiven. Right?
The Slobbovians nodded.
Well there is a way, D.B. said. But youll have to
completely lose the person you are now. Youll have to go all
the way. No compromise. No retreat. No surrender. You have

182

to become a radical. Do you understand? You have to become

a radical revolutionary from the inside out. Got me?
The Slobbs nodded. Yes, they said. They understood.
Thats what they came for.
+
A few more Slobbovians made their way to Vonhunds
barn, where they gravitated to D.B., going so far as to imitate
the + tattoo D.B. had carved into his neck. And like D.B., they
were fanatically protective of Ricky and the stomp floor, even
before they understood anything of our theology. They still
had EBT cards and D.B. knew a way to get cash out the cards,
so he bought better computer equipment, which he tirelessly
used to promote what we were doing. So a lot of kids got
involved with building the website, and managing the social
media, and getting the word out that way.
We set up a Resistance School and studied the great
works of Western Civilization not just the Bible, but Homer,
Socrates, Shakespeare, Salinger the stronger readers helping
the weaker. We took our books to the classrooms of the
school, where wed stopped playing Gaia Dancing, choosing
to read or write instead. We rewired our minds so that we
werent conformed to the nihilistic bullshit of political
correctness and cultural Marxism. And a few kids got up out
of the plasma bags and joined our ranks, even though what we
were doing was hard.
Certain teachers convinced the Gais that they should be
frightened by what we were reading and should demand a
safe place where they wouldnt be threatened by some kid
reading The Odyssey. Alinsky happily granted that demand by
turning over the gym to the Gais.
Then the Fairness Union declared war on anyone who
wasnt in the safe place, using humiliation as their weapon of
choice. They cornered this one kid and tried to make him say
something on video. But the kid wouldnt say it. He wasnt
even part of our group. He was a skinny little scared guy
named Jim Castle, with arms about the size of pencils, but he
wouldnt say what they told him to say. I wont tell what they
did to the kid. Its too disgusting. But they recorded video of
what they did and sent it around like they were proud of it.

183

Weve got to strike back, I said. If we let this pass

things will only get worse.
Okay, but lets take time to think, Ricky said.
Think about what? I asked, It seems pretty clear to
me. We find the guys who did that to Castle and make an
example of them. I know, I know. We love them and forgive
them, yadda-yadda-yadda, but if we dont extract stern justice,
there will be no end to this stuff.
Thatll look great on video, Faith snorted. Thatll
make us look like fine young Christians.
You know why Jesus used a whip to clear the riffraff
from the Temple? I asked. Because He didnt have a Glock.
Heres what we do, Ricky said, then told us her
ridiculous plan. Okay, she said, taking out her phone. Lets
rally the troops. Well meet in front of the gym in ten minutes
with The Declaration loaded on our phones and ready to go.
+
This is it? OConnor said, looking at the handful of
stompers whod showed up to invade the Gaia safe space.
This is all we have whore willing to fight?
Remember Gideon fighting the Midianites, Ricky said,
pushing open the gym door.
+
We started reading The Declaration of Independence
from our phones but the Gaias were so into their vid lids that
they didnt hear us.
Then, just as we got to that part about it being the duty of
the people to throw off abusive governments, the Gaias in
their plasma bags began removing their sensory helmets.
Yo! spat an angry Scat, looking up from his/her grimy
plasma bag. Whatever was going on with Gaia Dancing must
have been very sad because he/she was weeping profusely.
Yo-yo-yo? complained a nearby Shaneeka, equally
affected by the virtual soap opera that had been so rudely
interrupted.
The big screen at the end of the gym came on and there
was Alinskys flabby face.
There is no need to finish this installment of Gaia
Dancing! he declared. If you want to know who killed Baba

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Looeys unicorn, look no further than the invaders of your safe

place!
Collective sorrow became collective rage as the Gaias
lumbered out of their nasty plasma bags and started coming at
us from all directions.
Guys up front! I yelled.
Then they were on us and we were fighting for our lives.
+
We fought our way to an exit and spilled out into the bus
lot.
Girls go! Guys stay! Stop em up! Stop em up!!
And the front line of the defunct Bishop Fenwick
football team held its ground at the door until the girls, with
Faith riding Jessi Whites back, made it to the cast down rock
fence that separated Vonhund field from school property.
Retreat! Retreat! And we ran across the bus lot toward
the barn, the outraged Gaias waddling after us, seeking
revenge for the death of Baba Looeys unicorn and the micro
aggressions perpetrated on oppressed and marginalized
peoples world-wide.
We let them cross over on to Vonhunds property before
hitting them with the first volley from our slingshots.
+
Jesus doesnt want you to just sing songs and pray,
Ricky said to the crowd gathered at the barn. He wants you to
do things. He wants you to feed people. He wants you to make
those people Christians too so they can feed themselves. Then
they start feeding other people and bringing them on board
and so the whole thing grows and grows. Thats what the plus
sign is all about. Its about addition. Its about making this
idea grow.
How are we supposed to feed other people? someone
asked. How are we supposed to feed ourselves?
Everybody start a compost pile right now, Ricky said.
Come spring everyone is going to have a garden. And were
going to plant fruit trees and raspberries. It doesnt matter if
you just have room for a couple of sage plants and some
spinach. Everyone has their own garden. Everybody adds
something. Everybody makes a start. Right now. And

185

everybody lays some stuff aside, even if its just a couple of

cans of beans.
Ricky said some people would become beekeepers. And
others would keep chickens or rabbits, and some people with
big yards would even have goats. And she said people should
plant their yards with clover for those rabbits and the bees.
The whole thing fits together perfectly, Ricky said.
The plants are going to feed the bees and the bees are going
to pollinate the plants and theyre both gonna feed us.
Everyone wins! Of course well have to build a whole bunch
of rabbit hutches, chicken coops and bee hives. And thats
great, because Jesus was a carpenter and now well learn to be
carpenters too.
It all sounded crazy, but it was something to do. It was
something to believe in, and deep down, thats what kids
wanted. They wanted to do something other than lay in a
plasma bag and be programmed. They wanted to build things
and grow things. Then in early October, the Federal Food
Service collapsed and some kids at the barn said Ricky had
predicted it.
+
For a week the food trucks continued to service the
government workers at Servants Quarters, but by the time
they got to Diversity Estates they only contained a handful of
goods.
Then the trucks stopped coming altogether.
Egestas finished, Hannity said one night at the
Bluegrass. Hes gonna lose this election in a landslide.
It stood to reason that Egesta would lose since he was
the architect of the Food Service. Hed convinced people to
rely on the system and now people were going hungry. But
Egesta went on TV and incredibly came out against the
hunger his policies had caused.
They are still eating, Egesta said of the Americans who
had opted not to depend on the Food Service program. Ask
yourself why they have so much when you have so little? Ask
yourself if that is equality. Ask yourself if that is fairness. Ive
asked myself those questions and I know the answer, he said,
tearing up. That is why Im running for re-election!
+

186

Later that week, when Market Day rolled around, the

buying and selling was going on as usual when a Fairness
Union bus rolled into the parking lot full of chanting people
from Diversity Estates.
EBT! EBT! EBT feeds you and me! they chanted,
shaking their welfare cards in the air like they could buy
something with them.
We tried to form a perimeter around the food, but this
fat mama in a muumuu snagged the handle of a Coleman
cooler Luke was carrying and yanked it from his hands so that
dozens of eggs and a couple of gallons of milk spilled out in
the entrance of the drive thru.
A cheer went up and the mob pushed forward.
Then the weirdest thing happened: Mama Muumuu fell
on all those broken eggs and spilt milk. Then some guy was
pushed over on top of her, and the woman behind him went
over too. Then they all started going over, slipping and sliding
in the mess theyd made. They just kept pushing each other
over into this big thrashing pile of flabby arms and legs. And
the funny thing was the look on the faces of the people who
were about to be sucked into this whirlpool. They could see
what was happening, but couldnt prevent it. Help us, you
fuckers! this guy in dreadlocks yelled as he was pulled into
the fray.
It was like watching dogs fight. You knew you should
stop it, but it was interesting as hell because of the sheer
viciousness of it. The men in the pile were stepping on women
and children. And the women and children were scratching
and biting and screaming. One guy would rise and almost fight
his way out, only to be pulled back down by some other guy
trying to pull himself up.
Get em out of here, Dad said. Put em back on the
bus!
So we started pulling them from the edges and they were
calling us names and cursing us. It was like they were from
some strange planet where, when someone helped you up, you
blamed them because you fell down. But we put them back on
their bus until all that was left were mismatched house slippers
and Mama Muumuu, her wig askew, coated in milk and eggs.

187

We loaded her onto a stretcher but when we got her to

the bus, there was no way we could get her through the door
without her help. But she refused to get up, so we just rolled
her out on the ground.
There was no one in the drivers seat of the bus, so
Wayne climbed on and asked who was in charge, but all he got
in reply was some stupid chant. So he collared a guy who
looked half way intelligent and dragged him off the bus.
This woman needs medical attention, Wayne said.
Hey-hey, yo-yo the guy started.
Stop it, Wayne said. Youve got to get her some help.
Understand?
But no one was home in the guys head. We walked
away and he started chanting again.
+
Anyway, some kids said Ricky knew the food service
was going to collapse because she had the gift of prophesy and
thats why she was telling people to learn how to feed
themselves.
Well of course she knew the food service would
collapse. It was a lead pipe cinch that it would collapse
because what cant go on forever wont. But some of the kids
who were coming to the barn thought Ricky had a special line
to God when all she was doing was repeating what shes heard
Resisters say for years. It was just common sense that,
somehow, had become uncommon. Of course she did nothing
to correct the rumor that she was a prophet, just like she did
nothing to disabuse kids of the notion that theyd been healed
of ADHD.
Lets stomp it out! shed say to the kids who gathered
in the barn before school. Everyone would sing and dance and
before you knew it the floor would come alive and start
kicking back and kids would be up in the air like they were on
a trampoline. Theyd work themselves into a frenzy, then
Ricky would take them down again, slowly, slowly and end in
a prayer asking Jesus to center their minds so they could learn
something that day that would be useful and good, so they
could be a good example to other kids at the school, so they
could lead other kids back to the barn. Then those kids who
had stomped would go to school and sit there and diligently

188

decipher books on gardening and animal husbandry and

beekeeping and carpentry.
So changes occurred in the kids who came to the barn.
Big changes. Maybe it was the real food they were eating or
the physical activity in the great outdoors, but kids lost their
pasty flab. Boys built hard muscle. Girls found their curves.
So they started liking themselves more. And they started liking
each other. So love was in the air big time. And there was
Ricky telling them that Jesus wanted them to love themselves,
and to love each other.
Give your neighbor a big hug, shed say. And youd
look at some other kid you didnt like or didnt know. But
youd open yourself up to them and give them an honest hug
where you had them in your arms and squeezed them tight and
the next time you saw them in the hall they werent a stranger
to you and you looked them in the eye and they looked back
and you saw each other. You knew each other. And in a way, I
guess, you loved each other. So you knew what Jesus was
talking about and it really wasnt that hard to love your
neighbor as yourself.
It was the weirdest thing. And all you have to do is open
yourself up to it.
+
Then the Safety and Security Agent came to call.
You cant just have kids doing things, the S.S. agent
said, one afternoon when we were building bee hives. What
if someone got hurt? You all have to stop this and go home
where its safe. Go play Gaia Dancing like youre supposed
to.
Safety and Security agents had degrees in Sociology or
Gender Studies and their job was to find some regulation or
policy to keep anyone from doing anything on their own.
Whats your name? I asked, videotaping him with my
phone. Where do you live?
No fair, he said. You arent allowed to do that.
The S.S. agent reached for my phone, but D.B. put the
grip on the agents hand.
Ow! the agent said. Youre hurting me!

189

D.B. extracted the billfold from the agents back pocket

and OConnor kneeled on the ground and went through the
wallet, photographing this and that.
Youre in big trouble, the S.S. officer said.
You dont even know my name, OConnor said. But
weve got your name, your address, your social security
number and a picture of your boyfriend. So I wouldnt be
making threats if I was you. They dont even let you live
inside Servants Quarters, do they?
Strip him naked, D.B. said to his Slobbovian friends.
Paint his penis, ass crack and his tits orange and dropped off
on Bell Hollow Road.
WhaWhaYou cant do this. I work for the
government.
Compared to what Ive done to others, D.B. said,
youre getting off easy. But if you come back, or there are
any repercussions due to you getting your dick painted, itll go
a lot worse for you. A whole lot worse. Now you need to
understand that we love you as we love ourselves, meaning
that if we were creepy little pieces of shit trying to take away
peoples rights of free association through the subterfuge of
safety regulations, we would expect no less than the corrective
measures youre getting. Now quit crying, you big pussy, and
let this be a lesson to you.
I was concerned about the power D.B. Wells was gaining
with the Slobbovians in our group. He told them they were
Gods shock troops, and they were training themselves
accordingly. Then, one night just before the Leaf Festival
began, D.B. photographed the face of Christ on the side of the
barn and splashed it all over the internet.
+
The image was nothing but stains and shadows on
warped wood, but the next night traffic was bumper to bumper
from Rainsboro to Greentree with people lined up to see the
image.
I couldnt see Him myself, but Ricky said He wasnt
handsome in the way the actors who always play Him in the
movies are.

190

Hes weathered and rugged, she said to a group

gathered under the eerie illumination of the sodium-vapor
lamps of the schools bus lot.
They looked and nodded. Yes, they agreed. This Jesus is
a tough looking dude. You wouldnt want to mess with Him.
Hes a total badass, Ricky said. But look at his eyes.
Thats an intelligence born of an experience that we cant
touch! He was who He was, where He was, for a reason. And
now Hes on the side of a barn on the Route 50. And now Hes
on Facebook. And Twitter. And YouTube. And a hundred
million emails passing each other all over the planet!
Then Alinsky turned the lights off in the bus lot and the
image on the barn was gone.
+
Copyright D.B. Wells LLC. May be downloaded from drafts,
dbwells777@gmail, password: Luke22:36.

+
The Leaf Festival started and the old Resisters came to
the campground to hear Hank sing one more time and they
were a depressed and downtrodden crew because it was
certain that Moloch Egesta was headed for a landslide victory
on a wave of a bunch of newly made Slobbovian voters.
But there was this other group of campers whod seen
the face on the barn and who not only acted like victory was
possible, but like theyd already won. The old Resisters had no
idea who these new campers were who were spending so
much time at Vonhunds barn, which was open 24/7 now,
manned by D.B. Wells and Slobbovian converts whod been
thrown out of Diversity Estates.
And those videos of Ricky singing on the stomp floor
that had been sitting on YouTube with 300 views? They
suddenly took off. One day there were nearly 60,000 views.
The next day there were over a million.
So Ricky was the star around the Bluegrass now. If she
walked across the campground she would get mobbed. So we
protected her as best we could. And there were other guys who
stepped up as well. We all stepped up. We became men and
women.
There were still plenty of people who wanted to pump
Hanks hand and buy him a drink, and Hank put up with it as
best he could, but his heart wasnt in it anymore and one night

191

during the Festival, when he was supposed to play at the bar,

he just didnt show.
So Ricky jumped up in front of the Neer Do Well Band
and started singing her own songs. They were all set to Hanks
tunes so the band had no trouble backing her. The electricity
was out so they were doing an unplugged set by candlelight
and it became apparent right away that something very odd
was happening. You could see the crowd moving around,
shifting its weight in strange ways, somewhat uncomfortable
with the new words, which werent about getting drunk and
cheating on the ones you love or giving in to the very darkest
parts of your heart. Instead, Rickys words were about
conquering personal weaknesses, forgiveness of others and
yourself, and getting a new start in life.
Go check on Hank, Dad told me. So I drove the truck
up the hollow to Hanks trailer. The door was open so I walked
in.
Hank? I said.
His cigarette moved in the dark.
You okay, Hank?
Im just listening to the music, Hank said.
I sat down and listened to Ricky and the band down the
hollow, thumping out a tune Hank had written for Kitty so
many years before.
I would sue her for stealing my songs if I hadnt stolen
them myself, Hank said.
Yeah, I said. Beneath the sound of the instruments I
thought I heard someone stomping.
Listen to that girl belt it out, Hank said.
Shes good, I said.
Shes more than good, Hank said. Shes got it. Kitty
had it too. I thought when she died, it died with her. But now
its back and Ricky has it.
The electricity came back on and I saw that Hank was
dressed to play and had his old Gibson on his lap.
Im finished, Josh, he said, handing me the guitar.
Give this to Ricky. Tell her its hers. Tell her Im down here
listening and I wanna hear her burn it up.
+

192

Everyone was jumping when I plugged in the guitar and

handed it to Ricky.
Kick it! someone yelled.
So I did. I jumped in the air and came down stomping.
And it felt good. Dad and Liz could have long faces all day if
they wanted to but I actually felt like there was a way forward.
I was optimistic. We werent going to let the rest of the
country drag us down into some collectivist quagmire. We
were not only going to survive, we were going to prevail.
I jumped off stage and Jessi Gipson put her arms around
my neck, her lips to my ear. Can you believe this? she
yelled. Can you believe this is happening? And I looked
around and people were coming alive. Even old farts whod
done nothing but hang around the bar for years. They felt it
too. There was an answer. There was a way forward. And it
had been there all along in words long written down.
OConnor pulled me away and yelled in my other ear.
We got company, he said, nodding to two guys at the bar.
They were about thirty years old, and they must have
thought we were total idiots because they each wore the same
model of Google eyeglasses.
What do you want to do? OConnor yelled.
Lets get to know them a little better, I said.
+
The next morning Hank came down to the bar and said
he was feeling better so I asked him if hed like to meet some
new people before he started drinking. So we went walking
through the campgrounds and right away a little entourage
gathered around Hank as we knew it would. We walked over
to the bus-sized camper that our two Google guys were
staying in.
One was sitting on a camp chair strumming a guitar. The
other was trying to whittle a stick.
Im Hank, Hank said.
Glad t meet ya, Hank, the guy with the guitar said,
trying to sound like a redneck, I guess.
Howdy, said the whittler, touching the brim of his new
cowboy hat with the dull blade of his new pocket knife.
Mind if I sit a spell? Hank said.

193

Well, the guitar player said, getting a little nervous,

we don have another chair
One of Hanks fans produced a folding camp stool and
Hank sat down and lit a cigarette. It helps if you tune it,
Hank said, taking the guitar from the strummer and adjusting
the pegs.
Hank played this down and dirty blues riff. Just a flat
throb. Then he turned it into Love In Vain, and sang the words
with his eyes closed.
The fingering was pretty simple for a while, then he hit a
spot where he stopped singing and a bunch of notes poured out
of that cheap guitar and it sounded like it was crying, like it
was trembling, like it had just lost everything in the world and
was about to eat a load of buckshot.
People moved around so they could see Hank play,
surrounding the two campers with the Google glasses. Then he
turned the song into Carrickfergus, and you could just feel the
sorrow and regret in his ruined voice. You could hear every
single cigarette and shot of whiskey in that old song and you
knew everyone around you would talk about this for the rest of
their lives, because theyd been there and heard the great Hank
Goins turn Love in Vain into Carrickfergus.
I watched the two Jessis walk up to the camper pushing
a wheelbarrow, wearing latex gloves and hair nets theyd
taken from the kitchen. With a flat crowbar that beekeepers
use to pry hive boxes apart, the Jessis opened the camper door.
I inched away from the crowd when I saw them pushing the
wheelbarrow away, loaded with stuff theyd taken from the
strangers RV.
+
The Jessis had taken computers, phones, a camera,
notebooks and a file folder, which I leafed through while the
Jessis worked on the electronics.
The folder contained FBI files, the first of which was
thirty years old and concerned Hank and Kittys support for an
anti-tax organization Id never heard of. There was a short file
on the death of Kitty and another on Hanks growing
radicalism. Then there was a file containing photos of my dad
and Hank, dated two years after my birth. There was Dad the
roadie setting up speakers on stage while Hank sat on a stool

194

with the Gibson on his knee, pointing at something outside of

the photos frame. Dad the bodyguard behind Hank in a crowd
of fans. Dad and Hank shooting rifles in the desert with some
other people, one of whose face is blurred.
Then Liz showed up in a document and she was so
young. In one photo she sat between Hank and Dad at a
restaurant table. Then the photos were only of her and Dad.
They were in a motel swimming pool and she had her arms
around his neck. Then they were walking across a parking lot
holding hands, but Dad had spotted the photographer and was
giving him the snipers stare while aiming down the pistol he
had made with his thumb and forefinger.
I sifted through the text of the document and it detailed
Dad and Lizs every movement for a year as they traveled
around the country with the Hank Goins Band. Except Liz
wasnt called Liz in any of the documents. She was
Magdalena Nguyen. Then she was in a hospital bed, exhausted
but proud. And Dad was sitting beside her, smiling and
holding a newborn baby identified in the caption as Lillith
White.
Most of these pictures are of Ricky, Jessi Gipson said,
looking at the camera the girls had taken from the RV.
Theyve got Ricky singing in the barn walking in the hall
at schoolrunning on the trail Ricky Ricky... Ricky.
This is creepy shit.
A couple of hours later, the two strangers fired up their
RV and tore out of the parking lot.
+
We tightened security around Ricky after that. We
figured she was safe at the Bluegrass, which was generally full
of armed Resisters, but whenever she was at the barn she was
surrounded by bodyguards while D.B. and his squad of
Slobbovians checked people at the door.
Security at school was not a problem because we quit
going. Technically, school was in session but every room was
full of newly hired foreign Fairness Workers who slept in the
classrooms at night and lay in the plasma bags playing Gaia
Dancing all day. This swelled the number of kids who showed
up at the barn, which kept Ricky busy directing the
construction of chicken coops and beehives and teaching kids

195

how to stomp. So she didnt even notice that I was keeping my

distance from her at first. And that, too, pissed me off.
There was a lot of activity at the Servants Quarters, so I
volunteered to keep an eye on it. Mostly, I hid in the woods
and counted military vehicles that entered the gate in the dead
of night. They were up to something. We just didnt know
what.
+
I was supposed to work with Ricky in the kitchen that
afternoon and I looked forward to it because I wanted to show
her how much I hated her. I know it doesnt make sense, but
thats how I felt. I hated Dad. And I hated Liz. And I hated
Ricky most of all.
But I really didnt hate any of them. You see, thats how
messed up I am. I loved them. I just hated the truth. And I
hated myself for not seeing it sooner.
Then, when it was time for Ricky to show up for work,
Jessi White showed up instead.
You wont believe whats happening at the barn, Jessi
said. Its a mass conversion! People are throwing their F.U.
shirts in the fire and going down to the river to be baptized.
And as soon as they come up out of the water they get
communion! Theres even a Resistance News girl there whos
doing a report on the whole deal.
+
Late that night, the Bluegrass filled up with people.
Sheriff Bondhaver was there wearing a cowboy hat,
sunglasses and a fake beard. It was a ridiculous disguise
because anyone could recognize the sheriff by his big belly
and bandy legs. And Deputy Collins was also there, but he
wasnt in disguise. There were other people there too men
and women Id never seen before.
Hank called, Liz told me. He wants you to come
down and help him. Take the truck. I dont think hes up for
the walk.
In the parking lot, there were other guys standing close
to their vehicles. I could tell a lot of them were ex-military and
I knew there were pistols under their coats and rifles in their
Jeeps. They looked me over and I gave them the sign of the

196

33rd degree but then I felt stupid about doing it out in the open
where anyone could see.
I drove the truck down to Hanks trailer and as soon as I
opened the door the smell of death hit me.
The place was a mess. Dishes piled up in the sink and
bloody clothes everywhere. The whole trailer smelled like
blood. Old, rotten blood. And there was Hank, naked but for a
diaper made with a bath towel.
Damn, Hank, I said. Whats this?
Its a miracle, he said. I think its called stigmata. Im
bleeding out my ass.
We have to go to the hospital, I said.
Sit down, Josh.
I looked around and there was no place I really wanted
to sit because it was all so stained and smelly.
Sit, Josh, Hank said. I have to sit so you sit too. I
dont want you looking down on me.
I pulled up a wooden kitchen chair away from the table
and sat.
Tomorrow is election day, Hank said. Moloch Peor
Egesta will win and sometime after the election, there will be
a false flag attack that will be blamed on the Resistance and be
used as an excuse to try to exterminate everyone even vaguely
connected to us.
I know what youre thinking, Hank continued. Just
some more of old Hanks crazy conspiracy theories. You think
it cant possibly happen because it hasnt happened yet. But it
has happened. Many times. You see, history didnt begin with
the birth of Joshua White.
Hank closed his eyes and his face twitched in a spasm.
The point is, he said. Very soon medication is going
to be at a premium and shouldnt be wasted on someone whos
dying anyway.
Youre not dying, Hank.
Oh, were all dying, Hank said. Im just dying faster
than most. I have that on good authority. But I need to live a
little longer and I dont need anyone feeling sorry for me. I
dont intend to go out with a pity party. And I need you to help
me. Strictly secret stuff, just between us. Can I count on you?
You know you can.

197

Good, Hank said. Well heres what I need. I need

sanitary napkins. Like girls use. Dont we have some in the
drive thru? Didnt somebody barter some last market day?
Yeah, I said.
Id watched Ricky walk out with them the day they
came in.
+
I drove up to the rock house, flashing my lights three
times as I crested the ridge. Wayne, in a fortified shooting
station at the corner of the house, lowered his AR and got on
his phone, sending an OK to his brother Dwayne, who was
positioned in the trees.
Hank needs something from the house, I said.
Its open, Wayne nodded.
I went in through the kitchen and walked up the stairs to
the bathroom. I looked through the cabinets until I found the
stash. I took a box labeled Overnight Extra Heavy Flow.
Now leave, I told myself. Dont even look toward her
room.
I stepped into the hall. Walk down the steps, the voice
within me said. Get in the truck and drive away.
But her door stood wide open.
+
That scent hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold. That
crazy smell. There was no sense fighting it, so I surrendered. I
sat on her bed and soaked up that fecund, feminine odor.
This is crazy, I told myself. Hank is at the bottom of the
hill waiting, bleeding out his ass.
On the night stand was the Bible Ommi had given her. I
opened it to the Song of Songs.
Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister. Milk and honey
are under thy tongue. The smell of thy garments is the
smell of spice. Thou art a garden enclosed, a spring shut
up. How beautiful are thy feet in sandals. Thy navel is
like a goblet which wanteth not liquor. The seams of thy
thighs are the bejeweled art of the Master Craftsman.
I knelt at the side of her bed and buried my face in that
place where the seams of her thighs had lain.
+

198

What took you so long? Hank said. He was still

wearing that towel.
I had to find them, I said.
While Hank got dressed, I cleaned up the trailer a little. I
helped him put his coat on, then helped him out to the truck.
I cant get in there, he said. I cant make the step
anymore.
Ill put you in, I said. And I picked him up and set him
in the seat. It wasnt hard to do because he weighed next to
nothing. I drove him to the Bluegrass parking lot and jumped
out of the truck to help him. But Hank opened the door and
slid out on his own.
A couple of the guys who were standing guard in the
parking lot did a double take, then walked over.
Mr. Goins, one of them said timidly. Im sorry to
bother you but I just wanted to tell you how much your music
has meant to me over the years and what an honor it is to be
standing with you here tonight.
Thank you, Hank said, shaking hands. But Im the
one honored to be here with you boys.
Hank walked across the lot on his power, but when he
got to the steps leading up to the porch of the Bluegrass he
stopped and looked up like he was gazing at the summit of Mt.
Rainier.
Im gonna have to lean on you, he said.
So we got up the steps together. Then Hank had to catch
his breath.
Okay, he said after a minute. He straightened, stepped
up to the door and announced himself with three distinct
knocks. The door cracked a bit, then opened to allow Hank
entrance.
I walked across the parking lot and the guys who had
been standing guard were in our barn painting that white panel
truck with brushes and buckets of flat green paint. They were
even painting its bumpers and headlights.
The next day, as I sat at the bar watching the election
returns on TV, Ricky came over and hooked her little finger
around mine. Whats wrong? she asked.

199

A young mother was on the tube.Moloch Peor

Egesta! she said, holding a baby and an EBT card. He my
man!
Joshua? Ricky said. Did I do something wrong? Tell
me if I did.
Millions of new police have been hired to keep our
country free and safe! Egesta said up on the tube. Millions
of new educators are in our schools, helping our children
learn! Millions more are now working as healthcare personnel,
opening over ten thousand new residential rehabilitation
centers for those who are off on the wrong track! Everyone
who wants a job will soon have a computer work station in
his/her apartment, powered by his/her own methane emissions,
which will allow him/her to earn while he/she learns!
I turned to Ricky You dont even know how much of a
phony you are, I said, and walked out the door.
+
It didnt come out right. It wasnt what I meant to say.
But I didnt know how to explain it to her because I couldnt
explain it to myself. I just needed to get away for a while so I
figured Id take my bow and sit in my tree stand and try to get
my head right. I was on my way out to hit the woods and I
didnt really want to talk to anyone when Matt Zeisberger
came riding this big black horse into the parking lot. It was a
big deal, Matt riding Blackie because Blackie was three and
hadnt been ridden much before. Normally, Id climb on and
let him buck me off. But I wasnt in the mood for fun and
games.
I got some medicine for Hank, Matt said, hanging on
as Blackie reared up on his hind legs.
Jessi White came running out of the bar and Blackie
threw Matt about ten feet in the air.
I grabbed the bridle and Jessi got down on her knees and
showed Matt her boobs.
Are you okay? she said, stroking Matts hair.
Take the fucking horse, I said. Im going hunting.
I had no patience and the way they were acting was
getting on my nerves.
+

200

Most of the trees along the river were bare but there was
beech that was hanging on to its leaves and beneath it were
Dad and Liz and these guys I hadnt seen before. Dad and Liz
were there talking real low and I didnt want to think about
what they were talking about or why they were hiding out by
the river bank. I didnt want to hear about what was happening
in the cities, or who was missing, or any of that stuff. I just
wanted to go sit in my tree. I didnt want to kill a deer. I just
wanted to get away for a few hours.
Bring a deer back, Josh, I heard Dad say, and it made
me feel like what he said was already a memory, like one of
those inconsequential things you remember someone saying
after theyre gone. I looked over at my dad and he looked so
old. So did Liz. So I gave them the thumbs up and walked on
up the hill.
I walked past the rock house and on up the trail to Fort
Hill and the White family cemetery, stopping in the far corner
to send a little prayer up to Mom, to ask her to help me figure
things out. I know theres no reason to pray to the dead, but I
always had prayed to Mom when I was little. I stopped at
some point, but on this particular night I took it up again.
I climbed up into my tree stand and it was breezy up
there so stepping onto the stand felt like stepping into a canoe.
I snapped the carabiner of my harness onto the safety belt
cinched to the tree trunk, then pulled my bow up the thirty feet
to my stand, nocked an arrow on the string, and sat there
collecting myself for a while, looking around in the autumn
sunset.
Hoots and hollers drifted over from Serpent Mound
across the gorge. The Wiccans were at it again. They flocked
to the Serpent on Halloween, and again on the solstices and
equinoxes. They were there tonight for the election of all
things. So I guess the vote had been called in favor of Egesta,
which was no surprise since the polls were run by the Fairness
Union.
I sat back against the tree, closed my eyes, and tried not
to think. Out on Bainbridge Road, a siren approached, coming
closer and closer until it turned into the parking lot of the
Bluegrass Bar and Brew-thru.
+

201

I stowed my bow in the bushes and double-timed it down

to the Bluegrass. When I got there the EMT was wheeling
Hank out into the parking lot on a gurney.
Dad, Liz, Ricky and I followed the ambulance to the
hospital in Dads truck, but when we got there people were
looting the Emergency Room. A few guys gathered around the
ambulance and the truck, looking at Liz and Ricky but Dad
stepped out and chambered a round in his twelve gauge and
the guys backed off a few steps. But they were still studying
us, looking for any opportunity. Liz held up her nine
millimeter, dropped the fifteen-round magazine out of the
handle and installed one containing thirty bullets.
The EMT driver ran back to Dad. Its pandemonium in
there, he said. The doctors and nurses have left. What you
want to do next is up to you. Weve got him stabilized for now,
but were leaving.
Can you take him back to the bar? Dad asked. Well
call ahead for an armed escort to meet us and theyll provide
safe passage for you to go home.
Deal, the EMT guy said, and ran back to the
ambulance.
So we were speeding through the night when a fiery
mushroom bloomed in the distance, growing and growing. My
first thought was that wed been nuked, then it came over the
CB that it was the United Dairy Farmers in Bainbridge.
It was the last store in town that sold gasoline and food
and those looting in celebration of the re-election of President
Egesta had just blown it up.
+
Things went crazy after the election.
The government reported 100 percent employment, but
no one was really working. The schools were full of newly
hired Education Specialists, who agitated for the hire of still
more specialists, which Egesta, vacationing in the Virgin
Islands with his husband Toure, was happy to supply via
executive order.
Its an investment in Americas children, the president
said from the beach at Megan Bay. My opponents say our
kids are losers but I say theyre tops!

202

So the schools were packed with even more Fairness

Union members, but students stopped going because of the
sexual assaults.
It was the same with the police and the fire departments.
Their ranks were swollen with new employees but it was no
use calling 911 unless you wanted your house robbed.
But everyone had a job and the media made a big deal
out of what a great leader Egesta was, with such a neat crease
in his slacks and such an attractive partner in Toure LeMay.
Everyone was getting paid by the government, even people
who couldnt leave their apartments because they were too
obese, or suffered from anxiety, or just couldnt manage to get
up in the morning. The methane reclamation briefs that were
supposed to power the laptop computers turned out not to
work, but that wasnt the fault of the stay-at-home workers.
Egesta was sure they would work if they could, so it was only
right to pay them until the technology was sorted out.
The price of bread doubled. Then it quadrupled.
Egesta, vacationing on Marthas Vineyard, blamed the
inflation on currency manipulation by his political opponents.
I will fight this cabal of Wall Street fat cats and
international Zionists with every fiber of my being, the
President announced from the Chappaquiddick mansion he
was staying in. In the meantime, I will tie weekly EBT raises
for working Americans to the weekly rise in this criminal
inflation!
Not long after that, a bottle of beer cost a thousand
dollars. Then it was five thousand. Then twenty thousand.
Then Egesta, with Toure LeMay standing next to him in a
billowy white kaftan, appeared in the Rose Garden to
announce that Americas 77 trillion dollar national debt had
just been paid off.
We did it! President Egesta said to the cheers and
applause of the gathered media.
But Egesta had yet another announcement to make.
Were expecting a baby, the President said, taking
Toures hand and staring into his eyes.
The Rose Garden audience jumped to its feet once more.
Journalists cried.

203

America, unto you a king is born, NBC anchor Brian

Rather intoned into his microphone.
Wait a minute, Ricky said. She and Aisha were sitting
at the bar trying to fit a little white bee suit onto Tony. Do
those journalist think Toure is pregnant? Because they sure
act like they think hes pregnant?
Dad turned the television off. Egesta has issued an
executive order allowing Fairness Union workers to seize food
from private homes, he said. Iranians have blocked the Strait
of Hormuz.
+
But we were alright. There was fighting all over the
country but the local Fairness Union left us alone and we
returned the favor.
The harvest had been good. The bees made honey,
chickens laid eggs and cows gave milk. Gommi killed a deer
and while it hung in the barn, I built a smokehouse under
Gommis supervision no power tools allowed. We had lots
of help because a bunch of kids who stomped the floor at
Vonhunds barn wanted to learn about smokehouses. Then
they took notes while Gommi butchered the deer. Gommi even
showed them how to use an animals brains to tan its hide.
Classes like this were held all over the Exchange.
Separatist farmers studied solar panels. Women who knew the
mechanics of foot-powered sewing machines learned
ammunition reloading and gunsmithing. Everyone was
expanding their skill sets and it was all due to Ricky telling
people to use the special talents they had to provide for one
another.
Pass it on, she said. Pay it forward. Work to make
yourself useful.
+
I went in to check on Hank one day. He was staying in
the Bluegrass in an old storeroom that opened into the kitchen.
He liked it there because it was warmer than his trailer and he
didnt have to walk far to get to the bar. I pushed the door
open and he was sitting up in his bed strumming the Gibson.
Why didnt you ever learn to play? Hank asked.
I dont know, I said. I guess I was never that
interested.

204

Thats too bad, Hank said, continuing to play. Women

always go for the guy who plays guitar. See, that was the
problem between me and your dad. I played the guitar and he
didnt. You better learn to play before Ricky finds someone
else who does.
What about me? Ricky asked, coming into the room.
I was just asking Josh about God, Hank said. I asked
him why God created us if He knew we were going to do all
of these awful things. Josh said I should ask you.
No one understands God, Ricky said. Our minds
arent capable of it. If you try, you end up limiting Him.
Mocking him. See, Hes at the first moment of Creation right
now. Just like hes also at the last syllable of recorded time,
right now. But on this level, with our brains, we cant
comprehend that. We see through a glass darkly. And thats
putting it lightly.
The children of Israel are no sooner free from bondage
than they want to go back into the safety of slavery. They
dont want to be responsible. But God gives everyone freewill
and He will hold everyone accountable anyway. No excuses.
Ive been bad all my life, Hank said.
But youre still alive, Ricky said. Thats the deal with
Christianity. It says you can come clean. You can go home
again and all is forgiven. Didnt you hear what I just said
about freewill? You have a choice. The prodigal son made a
bad choice and he was wrong. Then he made a good choice
and he was put right again. The same deal is open to you.
This seemed to catch Hanks attention.
What are the specifics? he asked. What are the terms
of the contract?
Ive only studied the theology of the Old Order
Moravian Society of Separatists, Ricky said, so thats all I
can speak to. They take communion and practice adult baptism
by total immersion in running water, but they dont believe
any of that is necessary for salvation. They believe salvation
requires you to repent of your sins. You have to believe Jesus
is God, born of a virgin, crucified for your guilt and
resurrected from the dead for your eternal life. And you cant
just say you believe. You have to really believe. And that
requires the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. See, you cant

205

really save yourself. God has to do that. Faith comes from

God. And you have to forgive others in order to be forgiven.
Do you really believe that stuff? Hank asked.
With absolutely no reservations, Ricky said. If it were
proven beyond a shadow of a doubt to be false, Id still believe
it with all my heart.
Then, that very day, something happened that was so
awful that I couldnt see how anyone could possible believe in
a merciful God.
+
Aisha was pulling Tony in a wagon through a field of
corn stubble at Gommis farm. She was walking through the
field looking for ears of corn that had dropped from the picker.
It was a rough ride for Tony in the wagon but he liked it.He
was just a happy little guy who loved being alive.
Aisha pulled the wagon out to the old well on the fence
line and pumped water into the trough. The cows, hearing the
squeak of the pump handle, began lumbering toward the fence
while Aisha threw the corn to them. No one had to tell me
how this happened. I knew because Id done it so many times.
As she was pumping, two young men stepped out of the
woods. One was Peepers Potok. The one Peepers called
DeMarquise had a gun.
Dere where dey pu au de waer! DeMarquise said.
Dey pu i all i da hole!
No one puts water in there, Aisha said. Its a well.
Do you want a drink?
Shadup! DeMarquise said, pointing the gun at Aisha.
Don loo a me! Show speck, bitch! Bow dow!
Dey gots foo? Peepers said, nodding his head to
Gommi and Ommis house. Ya get it. Gib it us.
I cant steal from them, Aisha said. But they give
people work and pay them with a meal. You could ask and
they would probably find something for you to do.
Dat baby fat, DeMarquise said, pointing the gun at
Tony. Dat baby get foo.
Go-wan, DeMarquise, Peepers laughed. Shoo de
lil fucker n da face!
Dont shoot my baby, Aisha begged. Please dont
hurt my baby.

206

+
Luke Zeisberger bought the story to us. Hed been
helping Gommi at the farm when the shooting occurred and
was in the hayloft when the police came.
There were a bunch of Fairness Workers, Luke said.
And Feco and Peepers were with them in a police uniforms.
They put Aisha in the cruiser and when Gommi and Ommi
tried to pull her out Peepers shot them. Then they shot all the
cattle and the chickens and started hauling stuff out of the
house.
+
Dad called a Resistance meeting, but only about half
showed.
Fairness Workers have blocked the road from
Gnadenhutten, Wayne said. Theyre going house to house.
How do you know that? Hannity asked. I mean, how
do you know? Thats just hearsay.
Shut up Hannity, Hank said. We have to use the bomb
on Servants Quarters. We shouldve used it weeks ago when
the other cells started fighting.
Maybe things will settle down, Hannity said. Maybe
if we keep our heads down things will get back to normal. I
mean, maybe we should share our food with them that aint
got it. Maybe thats only right.
If we dont use the bomb well lose it, Hank said.
Theyll take it and execute us for having it. Theyre going to
execute us anyway. Theyve made first use of violence. Its
time for a squadron charge. Its past time. Ill drive the bomb.
Get me through the wall at Servants Quarters and Ill take it
the rest of the way.
+
Tommy Gibson ran into the bar. Theyve ringed the
trees in orchard, he gasped. Theyve set the beehives on
fire. We caught one and made him talk. Tommy looked at
Ricky. Theyre coming for her, he said. They have a
warrant for her arrest.
I looked at Ricky. She was so close that I could reach out
and touch her. But the time for that already seemed a million
miles behind us.

207

Okay, Dad said. We go with what weve got.

Decapitation squadron charge. We hit them as hard as we can
and try to throw them back.
Weve got more than this, I said. Theres another
Resistance cell at Vonhunds barn.
Slobb boys with slingshots? Hannity snorted.
How many? Dad asked.
A couple of dozen, I said. But Hannitys right. They
have slingshots. Clubs. Bows.
Dad thought. We can give them my guns. Do you have
any way to let them know were coming?
If Facebook is up, Ricky said, taking out her phone.
Dad and I went down to the basemen with Wayne and
Dwayne and we started carrying guns and ammo up and
loaded it in the truck. Others were putting air in the tires of the
panel truck, or loading up Molotov fire bombs.
We need to take as much ammo as we can carry, Dad
said as we put our Kevlar on.
I went up to the bar because I had something to say to
Ricky. But she and Liz had already been evacuated to the
basement of the rock house. Thats how Wayne said it. Theyd
been evacuated.
Okay, I told myself, this is unbearable, but I have to bear
it. I tried to text her, but there was no service.
The parking lot began filling up with more Resisters.
They were gunned up and ready to go
See ya later, Hank said, giving me the thumbs up. He
smiled but it didnt last. He gave me a hug and I felt him
crying. Then he turned and walked away.
+
As the other guys loaded up, Dad and I double-timed it
on foot down along the river until we came to the bridge on
Bell Hollow Road. The Fairness Union had set up a roadblock
consisting of a car and six thugs, only one of whom had a rifle.
Start on the left and work your way to the middle, Dad
whispered. Get him in your sites and shoot when youre
ready. Ill start after you.
I put the crosshairs of my scope over the chest of the
Slobbovian. He looked lonely, sitting apart from the others
like an outcast and as much as I tried to work up some feeling

208

against him, I couldnt. I felt sorry for him because he was fat,
stupid and about to die.
Do it! Dad hissed.
I shot the Slobb on the left and Dad shot the other five.
You okay?
Im okay, I said.
Were gonna need you to pull the trigger today, Dad
said.
I know, I said. Im sorry.
We walked up to the bridge and the Slobb I shot was
dragging his intestines across the asphalt.
I got it, Dad said, and shot him in the back of the head.
This is where we are now, Dad said. Its an awful
thing, but this is what it has come to.
We no sooner pushed the car into the ditch than our
convoy of pickup trucks arrived, loaded down with guns,
ammo and gasoline.
The Separatists are coming up, Wayne said. Should
we wait?
Dad looked back at Hank driving the panel truck at the
end of the line. I could tell the tires were losing air fast under
the heavy weight. Hank pointed his finger to the sky. Theyre
gonna hit us any minute, he shouted. He gotta go now!
Right now!
Were going, Dad said.
We drove up Route 50 to Vonhunds barn and there were
a bunch of kids there and I could tell Dad was skeptical
because they were so young, and so many of them were
Slobbovians who had carved these bloody plus signs on their
necks to look like D.B., who was armed with a single shot
shotgun. Levi Cohen was there with Thad, and they had cut
six pointed stars into their necks.
Get it, Dad said, nodding to the beds of the trucks.
Give em guns, Dad told the Resisters. Show them how
they work.
+
We smashed through the gate of Servants Quarters with
surprising ease. It was like they never thought wed come. It
was like they assumed that we would go quietly into that good
night of the residential rehabilitation center.

209

You know what to do! Dad shouted to the others. Im

going up there. He pointed to the Barack Obama Memorial
Bell Tower. So Dad took his Barrett M-82 and the rest of us
fanned out to burn the beautiful buildings of Servants
Quarters to the ground.
Heres something you need to know: When you fight,
fight to win. Dont fight for a tie. Dont prolong things in the
nave hope that your enemy will see that youre really nice
guys.
Win!
Do whatever it takes, but win. Rapidly. Decisively. Its
awful work, so get it over with.
We burned the houses of Servants Quarters in teams.
Once guy would knock a window out with the butt of a rifle,
the other guy would throw in an open milk jug of gasoline.
Then the lit Molotov would go in.
Get the children out of daycare! we shouted. Take
them down to the soccer field and lay down!
We worked our way up the main street and the essential
government workers offered no resistance. They ran from the
burning houses and we let them go.
There was practically no resistance at all until we got to
the center of the compound where the medical clinic, the pool
house and the daycare center were. There we came under
heavy fire and a bunch of our guys took cover where ever they
could. The FU troopers took aim at our vehicles. Then they
turned their fire to Dad up in the bell tower.
Get up! I screamed. Weve got to get this done!
Bullets were whizzing around me but all I could think
about was Dad and how we needed to get this done, so I
grabbed a backpack of Molotov cocktails from Hannity, flung
it over my shoulder and charged the pool house, because that
was the nearest place where I could see enemy resistance. It
was a crazy thing, charging like that. But Dad was up in the
bell tower laying down suppressing fire so, miraculously, I
made it to an open pool house window.
I lit a cocktail and tossed it into the pool house. A flame
licked up and I heaved the entire backpack through the
window. The explosion blew the door open and an FU trooper
came staggering out, pants on fire, with an assault rifle in his

210

hands. Levi Cohen was suddenly there, pushing a knife in

between the troopers helmet and flak jacket. D.B. Wells took
the gun from the troopers hands and ran into the burning
building spraying bullets, Levi right behind him with the
troopers side arm. Government workers, streamed into the
pool area and tried to climb the security fence but were ripped
to pieces by buckshot fired by the Slobbovians, who had
charged after me and now surrounded the pool area.
Hank drove the panel truck through the smoke, tires flat,
his windshield shot out, his face covered with blood. A few
seconds later I was knock unconscious by the force of the
blast.
+
And I awoke to see something like a star fall from the
sky. And my father was firing into the pool from the tower.
And there arose flying machines, screeching like locusts. And
we tried to shoot them, but their number was legion and they
darkened the sun as they turned to fly in the direction of the
Bluegrass Bar and Brew-thru.
For a moment there was silence as the drones were
beyond the range of our guns. Then there was the clatter of
hooves and I turned to see Ziesberger and his sons, rifles slung
over their shoulders, cantering down the burning street on
horseback.
+
I pulled Tuckers body from behind the wheel of his
jeep, climbed in and headed home. I pulled into the parking lot
of the burning Bluegrass Bar and Brew-thru and sped up that
gravel lane to the smoking ruin of the rock house my ancestors
had built.
I called and finally got an answer from Ricky, whod
managed to pull Liz into the underbrush. Liz had been wearing
plastic body armor, most of which was fused to her internal
organs.
Theres nothing we can do, I said. We have to run.
We cant leave her, Ricky said. Shes hurting, Josh.
Shes hurting.
Liz opened her eyes.
Im here, I said. Ill take care of Ricky.
She smiled, nodded and closed her eyes.

211

+
Ricky and I moved through the underbrush, keeping an
eye on the sky. There were shots in the distance in every
direction but we kept moving with our guns at the ready,
straight to David Davis cave.
Its the same story over and over, and you think you
know the meaning of horror, but you dont know. Theres no
way to know until it happens to you. People go to work in the
World Trade Center and have to decide if they will jump to
their death or burn, when just a few minutes before they were
drinking coffee and making small talk. It happens in a
moment, and theres no way to prepare for it.
I dont want to kill anymore, I told Ricky as the gas
filled the cave. I just want the bees and the woods. And I
want you most of all.
+
I dont know how long they interrogated me, drowning
me, then bringing me back to drown me again. It could have
been hours or it could have been months. I thought I heard
Alinskys voice but I couldnt say for sure because I had tape
around my eyes. Then they took the tape off and told me I was
on trial for terrorism. Ricky was there and she was on trial too.
And for all the horrible things theyd done to me, it was plain
to see theyd done much worse to her.
We need to do this fast, the judge said. She was a
nervous little woman who kept glancing around the burned out
basement like the walls could explode at any minute. In the
distance, I could hear gunfire. Will the prosecution present its
case?
A Fairness Officer stood, his arm in a bloody sling.
Case MT 6- 910: The People vs. the American Resistance
Movement, et al for terrorist treason. The prosecution rests.
The judged pounded the tack hammer that served as her
gavel. Guilty as charged, she said. You are hereby
sentenced to death.
She hurried from the room in the company of the
Fairness officer with the bloody sling.
Lets get this over with, someone said. We need to
bug out of here, but we can leave a pretty sight for the
Resisters.

212

The Fairness Union men took Ricky and me out to a

courtyard where two steel reinforcing rods had been driven
into the ground, rusted but for their gray ends that had been
sheared to a sharp slant.
Hold his eyes open, one of the union men said. I
want this to be the last thing he sees.
+
They made me watch what they did to her.
They made me watch and I saw her lips begin to move. I
couldnt hear her because the men were laughing. But I could
read the words on her lips because I knew the words. Because
Ommi had taught them to me when I was a child kneeling at
the bed where I had been born and where my mother had died.
+
Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump.
The old 883 climbs Fort Hill and at the top is the rock
house, and my Grandpa is in the doorway with my Grandma,
and theyre smiling and waving and I wave back and want to
stop and get to know them but they point on down the lane and
that old bike keeps rolling like it has a mind of its own.
So I ride on through the earthen gate of the ancient
Indian Fort, where the old Scotsman, David Davis himself, is
holding court with all his women and theyre laughing at
whatever hes saying, and all his kids are running around
whooping and hollering like a bunch of wild savages. There
are black kids and white kids and Indian kids and theyre
running around in the woods digging holes and building things
and just having the time of their lives. And right in the middle
of them, laughing and shaking his little fat arms around, is
Aishas Tony. And theres Liz, teaching them all about plants
and animals, and I want to stay with them and be part of the
class, but they smile, shake their heads and point down the
lane.
So I ride to the cemetery, and right there in the middle is
Hank and Kitty and Hank is young and handsome and playing
a brand new Gibson guitar and Kitty is wailing a song and
they both look at me and smile and Hank gives me the thumbs
up and winks and it is so plain that theyre so happy to be
working on music again and bringing it to life.

213

And all the other Whites in the cemetery are up and at it,
doing whatever it was in life that gave them pleasure, whether
it was making moonshine or hunting in the woods or whatever
it was. They are all living and doing what they love most and
theyre just going at it. Theyre raising crops and raising
livestock and raising hell because that was what they were all
about, that bold, reckless pursuit of individual happiness, for
better or worse.
Then I see her, a tiny figure slumped all alone in the
Separatist corner of the cemetery. She is small and when she
looks up I see that she is young and shy. But she lifts herself
and shows her full belly, and she is so proud. And she puts her
arms around herself and smiles, and I can feel her arms around
me. And Gommi and Ommi step out of the woods smiling and
Im glad my mother is not alone anymore, and I want to go to
her, but they point down the trail and so I ride on down
through the shadows of the gorge.
I ride up to the Serpents Promontory, where the
earthwork lay in pristine perfection, untouched by a thousand
years of erosion. I look out over the American plain and its
like time goes into overdrive. Forests rise and fall. Droughts
and floods sweep through in an instant. A glacier slides in
from the north and dwarfs me, its cold blue face inches from
mine, then melts and becomes a warm tropical sea, and closes
over my head, and I begin to drown.
Loaded down with all my guns and ammunition and
armor, I sink further and further into that liquid dark. It makes
no difference how hard I struggle. I keep sinking, pulled down
by all that weight.
Fear of the grave overtakes me. Death has me by the
throat. My lungs fill with water and theres no air left inside of
me to fight for. Its finished. Silt covers my body. I disappear
into the mud.
+
The universe is without form, void and dark. But
somewhere a small, still heart beats. Tha-thump. And thats
all. Just a single beat standing between something and
nothing. And I remember everything Ive ever done. All the
good things, all the bad things, all the things Im ashamed of
that I wish I could change.

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And Im sorry for it.

And Im sorry I had to come to this dark place before I
could know it.
So I remember it all. All that stuff I just laid down in this
story. And the last thing I remember is Ricky, and how they
made me watch what they did to her, and those last words I
saw on her lips. So I say those words. I say them in my dying
heart because there is no breath left. I can say them because
Ommi taught me them when I was young. So I say those
words. And I mean them.
And thats when I begin to rise up through the water.
+
I see the sky above me, dark blue at first, then brighter
and brighter until I break through the surface of the water and
the light is blinding. I take a breath and the air is full of the
scent of unknown flowers and the shrieks of strange birds.
Treading water, I shiver at the size of the trees and the
sheer fertile density of the mountainous shore that lay before
me. Anything could be there, hiding in those dark cleavages.
So I tread water and watch, afraid to go ashore in my naked
vulnerability.
Then a bird flies out. Its a silly creature, an absurd thing,
with long, thin feathers extending from its head and tail. Its
fantastic, like a bird a bright child might draw on a particularly
happy day. It swoops down, cuts a tight circle around my
head, fans my face with its bizarre plumage, then heads back
to the forest.
And as it goes, it leaves that familiar scent, that wayward
fragrance, lilting in the air.
At first I cant believe it, so I breathe it in again and its
really there. A breeze blows out from the shore and the air is
thick with that delicious, errant odor.
Suddenly Im laughing. Im laughing at how I had things
so wrong and at the sheer unexpected joy of it all. I just cant
stop laughing because I know that land before me, with its
dewy clefts and crevices, was designed just for me. Im finally
on the right planet. And the trees laugh with me. The water
shakes with hilarity and the very sky thunders with wild
ecstasy.

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The riverbank sings with a crazy primal life-force. It

calls to me, asks me to come and take my place, a place thats
finally right.
So I reach out to that green shore.
Just as I am, I reach out.

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