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

out of Tommy instead. “I’ve been thinking about relieving you as my 2IC.”

“Two Eye See?”

“Second-in-command,” he explained. Evan explained military terminology a lot these days.

“Oh yeah. No problem, boss. I don’t care either way. No big deal,” Tommy threw a fake jab at Evan’s shoulder. Tommy was close to twice Evan’s size. “It’s all good with me. I’m just here on this recon mission to look for my brother Cameron, you know? Your call, boss.”

“But I’m not going to relieve you,” Evan continued. “Not yet. I think you’re a good dude and you’re a good second set of eyes on civilian security issues.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said.

“Please pull me aside for a word before you shoot your mouth off again. How’s that sound?” It sounded a little ragged to Evan, but he wasn’t going to take it back.

“Yeah, sure boss. I’ll keep my mouth shut until the time’s right. No problem.”

Evan stuffed his hands in his pockets. “So, could you do me a favor?”

Tommy nodded and waited.

“Could you talk to the woman—Tanya—for me? I think they should come with us and we can relocate them somewhere less Wild, Wild West than here. I don’t want to be the one to ask her. I wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

Tommy chuckled. “You mean, you don’t want her to get the right idea? Am I right, Tiger?” Tommy bumped Evan with his shoulder.

“What the hell?” Evan popped his hands out of his pockets and waved them over his head. “Is there a sign over my head that says ‘I’m Into Her?’”

“Kinda,” Tommy laughed. “It’s obvious. Why wouldn’t you be? She’s solid.”

7

“Immediately before the Black Autumn collapse, the battle of the sexes reached perilous dimensions. Women dominated post-modern culture, but they sought social gains not in their nature to exploit. While most women loved the idea of female hierarchical leadership, relatively few women wanted to lead. Most women didn’t prefer the work of formal leadership, but they didn’t want men to lead, either.

When the collapse struck, thirty thousand years of hard-wired gender programming reasserted itself virtually overnight. Men again found themselves critical to the procurement of animal fats, proteins and the protection of the family. Men fought wars and commanded military matters. Women resumed control of family and community social structures, reared children, and grew carbohydrates around their homes, encampments and survival compounds.

Men ran the show while women ran the men, as had been the case, more or less, since the dawn of human civilization.”

The American Dark Ages, by William Bellaher North American Textbooks, 2037

Beesley Grocers Parking Lot

Oakwood, Utah

Even though it was technically a negotiation, Jason Ross’ previous life as a businessman didn’t provide much of an analogy to the present situation. He’d never been to a negotiation with a gun strapped to his hip and gunmen standing beside him. But everyone expected him to be good at this type of thing, so he played the part. Truth was: guns changed everything about a negotiation.

Jeff often said, “A great leader always has an ironclad plan. Sometimes, it even works.”

Jason didn’t have an ironclad plan, but he knew he needed to get the threat from county government eliminated today.

The Mills County leadership pulled up in a silver minivan. As men climbed down from the vehicle, Jason’s stomach dropped like a rotten apple from a tree. This wasn’t going to end well.

Three men stepped out of the minivan. They were fit, all with beards, and they carried AR-15 rifles. The wore jeans and flannel shirts, every one of them. They were the security team, probably city cops or sheriff’s deputies.

Jason had come with security too: two of the guys behind him were former SOF and two were trained Homestead shooters. Chad, the Navy SEAL, stood at Jason’s left with his short-barrel Sig Sauer assault rifle.

On any other day, Jason would’ve gone right to talking to the county cop gunmen about joining the Homestead with their families. Today, there probably wouldn’t be a chance.

The next three men to climb down from the minivan were going to be a problem. If ever there was an “Old Boys’ Network,” it was the three older men walking toward Jason’s plastic negotiating table.

All three looked remarkably similar, as though related to the same Utah forebears: pallid skin, hanging jowls and protruding midsections—despite the privations of the last three months. Each wore a polo shirt pulled tight over their belly and tucked into a leather dress belt with a small, shiny buckle. Maybe it was their unofficial uniform: middle-aged suburban bureaucrat Casual Friday.

Jason wore camo fatigues and a Gore-tex windbreaker, and he suddenly wondered if he should’ve worn something less Tom Clancy. He hadn’t really thought about what the county guys would wear to the negotiation. He’d only thought about projecting strength, and camo seemed strong. In the Homestead, tough guys wore camo—and he still though of himself as a “tough guy.” It’d been a long time since Jason had been around regular people. He’d forgotten that wearing camo, especially to a business meeting, was weird. But he pushed aside his insecurities. He had bigger problems at the moment.

What bothered him most was the show of force. He'd expected to be the only negotiator with gunmen. With a security team of their own, the bureaucrats would’ve spent the drive over to the meeting making a plan to project force. They didn’t realize how badly Jason and his gunmen out-classed their security. SOF operators like Chad and Bradley trained in combat a thousand times more than even the best-trained police officers. They’d both killed men in gun battles. They wouldn’t hesitate in the slightest, and the split-second differences in experience and force-of-will would set them apart from the police officers ten-to-one. But that wasn’t obvious just by looking at them. They all looked the same, even if they were leagues apart. The police gunmen would make the bureaucrats over-confident, and over-confidence was bad for everyone in a negotiation.

Jason risked exposure to the flu and shook their hands.