09 October 2010

Chapter I, part 8

There were only a few pictures of the couple from the border ranch, found dispersed amongst several sites that would probably cease to exist in the near future. They looked like typical 2nd or 3rd generation western ranch owners, maybe in their late 50's or early 60's. Definitely parents, probably grandparents. What they did not look like were terrorists. Of course, the definition of "terrorist" was no longer synonymous with bearded middle eastern men brandishing AK-47s and RPG launchers. The characterization of the  "new" terrorist was subjective. It really depended on which party was in power at the time.

Neither party was into being questioned, even from within their own ranks. Those that didn't tow the line could count on a visit with a prosecutor, or at least an investigative committee. Sometimes they fell victim to airplane crashes in remote areas, as well. "Pilot error" or "bad weather" had silenced more than a few naysayers over the past few years.

Currently, both parties seemed to be vehemently anti-gun, which was a departure from past policies. It played well into the blossoming "domestic terrorism" surge quite well, though. Mike saw it as the only move they could make to maintain any Federal control over the never-ending downward spiral the US had taken over the course of his life. Certain states had tried to buck the trend, and had seen significant funding cuts. Most had gone along with a rash of permit laws being passed. Open carry states of the past were going to "permit carry" or "permit ownership". Concealed carry was a thing of the past. Except Arizona, which was reverting back to frontier land. Too bad they were all but shutting down their state borders.

Mike got up from the computer, figuring that it was time to formally start the day, even if it had become just an extension of the previous day. Hopefully less eventful, he thought, as he covered Darcy with a blanket.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

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