There has been no word from any official of the New World Collective government, that is assuming that there is a government. We don’t know if the supreme leader of the New World . . .”
Gregoire paused in mid-broadcast for a moment; then, with a sigh, he continued.
To hell with that New World Collective nonsense, he said. I intend to refer to our country, or what is left of it, as the United States. And I think I am perfectly safe in doing so, since if we do have any government left, they are totally impotent now. We have tried to make contact by shortwave with anyone in Washington, D.C., who could give us some information on the status of Ohmshidi—indeed, the status of our country. They say that there is a silver lining to every cloud. It is hard to find one to this cloud, but if there is, it is that the government, and if I may be so bold, Ohmshidi, are no longer functioning.
As some of you may have heard on our initial broadcast, the United States was not the only nation to suffer these brutal nuclear attacks. Much of Europe seems to be in chaos right now, though they are not as bad as we are. We still don’t know anything about Israel, other than the fact that they were hit by at least three, and maybe more, nuclear missiles.
America, is there any question as to how and why all this has happened? For nearly a century now, going back to the First World War, America has been the bulwark of freedom and democracy. We defended Europe in the First World War, we freed Europe in the Second World War, and we stood at their side during the long, frightening days of the Cold War.
But the first thing Ohmshidi did when he took office was pull all American soldiers back from their overseas assignments. Then he systematically disarmed us, while at the same time destroying our nation from within. Without a strong America, there is nothing left to stand between the world and the evil that would engulf the world.
I cannot but hope that there are groups of you hearing my voice now, groups of you who have taken the necessary steps to survive. And, once survival is assured, it is my hope that we will come together again, reclaim our nation, and once more be a united country under the Stars and Stripes.
And now, a word about who we are, and why and how we are broadcasting. As I am sure everyone within the sound of my voice is aware, there are no longer any television networks, or even television stations that are broadcasting. Those of us who are continuing with the shortwave ’casts are no longer employed, nor are we being compensated. But we do this because we are newsmen and women, first, last, and always. We do it because we must. And if providing news to a shattered people who are desperate for information serves a mission greater than ourselves, then we are compensated enough.
I am signing off now, but will broadcast again sometime tomorrow. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific as to the time, but for now, I must err on the side of caution.
This is George Gregoire saying, good night, America, and God bless us all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Do we have a name?” Julie asked.
“A name?” Clay replied.
“This group,” Julie said. “Do we have a name?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought of a name,” Jake said.
“We’ve got to have a name,” Julie said.
“All right. Do you have a suggestion?
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a suggestion,” Julie said.
“What?”
“I think we should call ourselves Phoenix.”
“Phoenix?” John asked.
“Julie explained. “I mean the United States of America, the country we all took an oath to serve, is dead as far as most people are concerned. Except us—we’re going to make it rise from the ashes.”
“Yeah,” Deon said. “I like it.”
“Phoenix,” Clay said. He nodded. “It does have a ring to it.”
“I like it,” Karin said.
“Me, too,” Marcus added.
“Alright,” Jake said, smiling. “Hereinafter, we will be known as Phoenix.”
“Well then, in that case we should change our radio call sign from Mickey Mouse to Phoenix,” Willie suggested.
“I agree,” Jake said. “From now on my call sign is Phoenix One.”
“I’ve got somethin’ else to bring up,” Clay said.
“Now’s the time to do it,” Jake replied.
“Major—I mean, Jake, I know you said we aren’t in the Army anymore. But the truth is, while we were in the Army, we had a standard operating procedure. And even if we aren’t in the Army, I think we still need some structure. I mean, all you have to do is look at what’s going on all around us now to know that we must have some SOP. I know you don’t want to be a major anymore, but how about you taking charge, as a civilian, of our group?”
“We are all together in this,” Jake said. “I don’t want to presume.”
“You wouldn’t be presuming, and I agree with Clay,” John said. “We do need some SOP, and you are the one who started Phoenix, so I think it only makes sense that you be our leader. We can still remain on a first-name basis.” John smiled. “I sort of like calling officers by their first names.”
“I concur,” Marcus said. “Jake should be our leader.”
“Count me in,” Deon added.
Willie, Julie, and Karin quickly added their own support for the idea.
“Alright,” Jake said. “I accept. Now, what do you say we get back out to the post and get busy?”
“Go out to the post and get busy? Jesus, give the man a little authority and he goes all power mad on us,” John said.
The others laughed.
The Dunes, Fort Morgan—Tuesday, July 30
“Ellen, where is my typewriter?” Bob Varney asked.
“It’s in the very back of the storeroom off your office,” Ellen said. “Way in the back. Why do you ask?”
“I’m going to write,” Bob said.
“I really . . .” Ellen started to say that she really thought it would be a waste of time, but she stopped in midsentence. She had lived with this man for over forty years and she knew him inside out. And she knew that he needed to write, and if truth be told, she needed it as well. She needed a sense of continuity to her life, and having her husband write books, whether they were ever published or not, was that continuity.
“I really think that is a good idea,” she said.
Bob leaned over to kiss her. “Thanks for not trying to talk me out of it,” he said.
It had been almost thirty years since Bob Varney last used a typewriter, but he had kept his old Smith-Corona portable all those years, keeping it in good shape, and keeping it in fresh typewriter ribbons. Retrieving it from the back of the storeroom, he opened the case, then blew and brushed the dust and cobwebs away. That done, he rolled two pieces of paper into the typewriter, using the second page as a pad against the platen because when he took typing in high school his typing teacher, Miss Sidwell, had told her students to do that.
Using the lever, he counted down eleven double-spaces before he typed:
Lilies Are for Dying
by
Robert Varney
Chapter One
John Hughes had what is called a very structured personality. Every morning he had one soft-boiled egg, a dry piece of toast, and half a grapefruit. He drove to work by the same route every day, and crossed the intersection of Greer and Elm at exactly the same time. That’s why he was passing Elmer’s Liquor Store just in time to see Elmer being shot.