It was dawn. Now safe to leave the house. It was best to get to the store for one’s “citizen ration” early. Some rations were better than others. All I had on me was my REALIDV32 card. But that’s all I really needed. Going through the checkpoints TO the store was easy; coming home, not so. So I presented my id to the “block police” man standing “guard” at the end of the block. I trod briskly — well as briskly as an old man can — to the end of the road where I presented my id to the “municipal police”. Then it was about a mile to the highway where I present my id to the State Trooper. And, since this was a county line, next to the FEMA bureaucrat. While he let me pass, he warned that someday the terrorists might preclude allow inter county travel. I knew in a hour the line would be long. But no one in authority cared. Late comers might not even get thru the checkpoint before the dusk curfew. Did I mention that “citizen’s rations” didn’t carry over from day to day. Some thing about not allowing the terrorists to stockpile. But, I was thru an the store was closed for another 7 minutes. So I silently joined the lengthening line.

I recognized Carl, a fellow chum from the now defunct American Legion post. The Legion, as well as the VFW, were all closed by the Fraternal Organization’s tax of 42% of capital assets. It was the same tax that got the Churches after the Supreme Court decided that the First Amendment prohibited exclusionary churches (i.e., no Separation in Church was what the Founding Fathers meant to write). Carl moved back in line to me and spoke very low so the snitches wouldn’t hear. “U OK?” “Yea; no use complaining” “Sorry bout your wife.” A sob welled up but I swallowed it. “Thanks, I told her not to say anything about the Earth Day presentation at her school.” “Reeducation?” “I don’t know. Maybe worse?” I’d heard that females in need of an attitude adjustment were sent to the brothels that serviced the UN Peace Keepers now here in Amerika. To keep us safe from terrorism. “Nah, it was her first offense.” “Hope so. Store’s opening.” With that we both shuffled in.

I quickly gathered some stuff and headed to the checkout. Goods were distributed by weight. One pound seven ounces was the official standard. BUT, when the stock ran down, political komisars would ask you “Do you need ALL that citizen?” I’d heard that people sometimes late in the day only got ONE ITEM. That’s why I came early.

As I walked to the FEMA / State checkpoint I reflected how far we had fallen.

The FEMA guy tool a can of tomatoes. The State Trooper scored a can of fruit.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

The municipal police took an apple.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

The block police took the other apple.

I got home with two cans of beans.

As I sat and thought, I thought of my own run in with the police. A wild tomato grew in my hedge and the block police reported an unlicensed garden. The raid hurt. I got beaten, the wife got fondled, and the children were removed by the DYFS for their own protection. The summon’s fine was all “contraband”. Payable immediately. That was anything of value that the police could find and carry away.

I was now mad. It had been my uncle’s house. He’s always joked about the four poster garden bed as supporting us.

After midnight, I crept out to one corner of the garden and dug with my fingers. About four inches down, I hit plastic. It was a tube. Like a plastic pipe. I pulled off the cap and extracted three small plastic ziplock bags. Replacing the cap, I push back the dirt. And scattered some old leaves to cover it.

Back in the house, I used a candle in an interior room. I wanted to see the “treasure”. One was a note. “From this spot, take the first digit of the old shore house address north and your aunt’s bball number west.” The second was a gun. A very old gun. It looked like a toy. It’s note said “Liberator”. The instruction sheet had no words just pictures. It had a stick and ten bullets. The third had an energy bar, a juice box, and some tomato seeds.

As I ate the bar and drank the juice, I read the directions and loaded the gun. It was single shot.

I was afraid. But courage is just a scared person just doing what’s right.

I crept up to the sleeping block policeman. As I pressed the gun to his chest, he awoke slowly. A muffled bang. And he was dead. He didn’t have anything worth taking. So using the wooden stick, I extracted the used round. And, put in another.

I crawled down the block. I did stop to spread the seeds in the block komisar’s lot. And, down to the municipal police check point. Same process, except here I scored a real gun. I reloaded and left it on a neighbors doorstep.

Down to the State / FEMA checkpoint. I mowed down six.

I picked up all the weapons. And, dropped one on every other neighbor’s house and banged on the door.

About half answered. About half of these joined me in the street.

We couldn’t see the drone passing over. But the gaging started immediately after we heard it.

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