White Wasteland by Jeff Kirkham (best color ebook reader .txt) 📕

slowed his tirade, Jeff gathered himself. The naked truth was that he didn’t have a clear plan when it came to the Mormons, or the region. He had a sense that it was the right move to support the northern church, and it satisfied some items on his tactical wish list, such as better recon of the Wasatch Front and a bigger defensive perimeter. But in the end, it simply felt like a good move.

They’d reached the ham shack and Jeff wanted to get inside, so he wrapped up the debate. “We have incomplete intel. We don’t know what’s going on and the local Mormon church doesn’t have a standing army at the moment, anyway. There’s nothing to bitch about at this moment. We’re letting them use our radio, and that’s entirely within my purview as commander of security. Get your own shit squared away and then maybe I’ll feel like it’s worth my time to talk all this out with you. Until then, I’ll handle whatever I feel is mine to handle.”

Jeff turned and stepped through the ham shack door, leaving Jason outside under the cold, gray sky.

Ham Radio Shack - Ross Homestead

Oakwood, Utah

“You’ve already connected with the Southern Utah church?” President Thayer looked at his wristwatch as though it would tell him how the ham operator, Zach, had managed to succeed where his own operator had failed.

The President of the church had hiked up to the Homestead in what appeared to be his winter athletic pants and a fitted puff jacket. Jeff smiled. If his father could see him now, standing beside the Mormon prophet like any two guys, his dad would be very proud.

Zach launched into a technical explanation. “Your ham operator is much farther down the mountain. We built our own repeater on top of this ridge. We have six hundred feet of altitude on your guy. We’re high enough that our tower reaches over Traverse Ridge and that gives us a line of sight to the public repeater on Mount Timpanogas, which appears to still be working. We can talk to any ham in Utah Valley. This afternoon I got passed from ham to ham until I got Mr. Burnham’s head of communications. We’re scheduled to meet with Mr. Burnham on 435.5 hertz at 3:30 p.m.”

Jeff didn’t want to interrupt Zach in front of the Mormon prophet, so he rocked back and forth from foot to foot, bleeding off impatience. He desperately wanted to get to the bottom of the threat from the south. The radio conversation between the two LDS leaders would tell him volumes about how seriously he should take this new Mormon “warlord” in Utah Valley. As a fly on the wall for the conversation, he’d be able to listen for nuances and draw his own conclusion about the threat.

In Afghanistan as a Green Beret, Jeff had been tasked with gaining the trust of several Pashtun tribes, and then get them to fight with the U.S. against the Taliban. Jeff had been shocked to learn how rarely people cooperated for mutual gain and how frequently they went to war for personal reasons. Afghan warlords would often decide to become blood enemies for esoteric reasons—history, pride, slight differences in religion—no matter how much they stood to gain from working together. A world of squabbling warlords could take off in weird directions. Common sense wasn’t as common as it sounded.

The time came for the call, and Zach spoke into his big microphone. “KF7UCL is monitoring and listening for a call from Elder Rex Burnham.”

After a few repetitions, the radio man in Provo responded, “KF7UCL this J2PAL Provo, Utah returning. Ready to connect President Rex Burnham with Elder Richard Thayer. Back to you KF7UCL.”

Jason Ross slipped through the door of the shipping container they’d repurposed as their ham radio shack, and he stood in the shadowy corner. Jeff wished he hadn’t come, but they were right in the middle of the call and Jeff wasn’t going to distract.

Already he didn’t like the sound of it. The Utah Valley ham operator had called his church leader “President,” and he’d given Richard Thayer, the northern church leader the lesser title of “Elder.” It didn’t bode well for the conversation.

“W2ADL, this is Zach. Oakwood, Utah, with Richard Thayer standing by. Reading you nine by nine. Back to you.”

“KF7UCL you are seven nine. Passing mic to President Burnham. Over.”

Another voice boomed over the ham radio and Zach’s arm shot out to turn the volume down a notch. “Good afternoon, Elder Thayer. This is Rex Burnham. I’m so glad to hear you’re up and about. Who else from the Quorum of the Twelve is with you?”

President Thayer leaned over the desk to speak into the microphone. Zach jumped up and offered his chair to the Mormon prophet. After an awkward pause, Richard Thayer found the transmit button and spoke into the mic. “Elder Burnham… I hope you’re doing well. I’m so pleased to hear a friendly voice. None of the other brethren are here with me. I’m very sad to say that I believe they all passed away except for me.”

“You don’t know for sure?” Rex Burnham skipped the condolences and went right to the issue of priesthood ascendency.

“Things are chaotic here in Salt Lake City. Bands of criminals still roam the streets. Travel and communications are limited. I pray we’ll soon reconstitute the Quorum of the Seventy and then re-form the Quorum of the Twelve.” President Thayer released the microphone and listened intently, staring at the LED readouts in front of him.

Since the time of Brigham Young, there had been iron-clad procedures for replacing positions of priesthood authority after the death of a leader, and while those procedures had been maintained impeccably, they weren’t formalized in scripture. Whatever Elder Burnham said next would make or break history…and maybe Utah.

“I think we can probably agree that the End of Times has come, Elder Thayer…” the gravelly voice coming through the radio sent chills down Jeff’s spine. President