Maddie by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 2
They covered no more than a quarter of a mile which was littered with dead and dying cactus remains before they came upon the signs of former civilization. The adobe and brick houses on the outskirts of town looked as if they had been sand blasted by a machine working in the gear of overdrive squared.
What remained of the wooden trims was stripped and ready for a new paint job. Wooden frame houses fared less well. As in the aftermath of a tornado; some retained some semblance of their structure. For others the only evidence of them having been there was the concrete foundation and debris. In any of the cases, they all had one thing in common. The yards were strewn with the dead remains of that which once lived. Conk thought that the eeriest aspect was the absolute stillness and the lack of blaring emergency vehicles. Maddie showed no surprise; suggesting that she had seen it before.
Conk said; “It’s one thing to imagine it and quite another to actually see it.”
Maddie was stoic, unimpressed, and quiet.
Conk could not help but wonder what this little girl had seen. When the mental images appeared he shut them out. He started talking as a diversion. He said; “You know; I used to play for the Giants. Football, that is. Paid pretty good and I only had to work three days a week. And that’s in season. Off
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season, all I had to do was deposit the bi-weekly checks and fend off the aggressive teller with services to sell.”
“ ............ “
“That’s a bit of a joke. I liked playing the games on Sunday. There’s always someone out there talkin’ trash. Most of the guys in my area were bigger than me. They’d say some stuff.
It would motivate me to want to show them a few things they might not have previously considered.”
“ ............ “
“Admittedly; it’s hard to move somebody who weighs three fifty when you’re two fifty. But, if you spear ‘em low you can take their legs out right from under ‘em. Yeah, that’s a penalty; but the refs rarely call that one.” Conk laughed briefly.
“ .............. “
“No interest I guess? ......... Just as well. Those days are gone forever. Even LAWLESS at their best ain’t going to get that goin’ again. Not in my prime years anyway.”
Maddie’s hand tensed again and even seemed to quiver.
Conk said; “That’s the third time you tensed up when I said the word ‘LAWLESS.’ Come on. Tell me. What does this word mean to you?”
Maddie shook her head; “No,” in a quick, efficient manner.
She then proceeded to trip over a broken four by four with bent
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nails extended. Conk suspected a diversionary ploy as Maddie had successfully navigated countless others. He pulled her back up before she encountered the nails.
“Clumsy. Gotta watch it better. This dead wood can be hazardous.”
They kept walking.
Conk said; “I thought that we’d see a few people. It looks like they’re all gone. This is absolutely strange. ........ I mean like is everyone dead? Did they go somewhere else? What?
There used to be millions here.”
“ ................ “
“You were around here. You must have seen it.
“ ................ “
The silence was broken by a roar from the heavens. They looked up to see seven planes flying west in a V pattern.
“That’s an excellent way to avoid the traps. ...... They’re so fat they have to be cargo. Military? I don’t know.”
“ ........... “
Conk pointed to their left and said; “Look at that. The whole mall collapsed. No sense goin’ there. We’d never find anything in all that rubble.”
“ ............ “
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“That’s what I’m thinkin’ too. ............ Well, we’ve come this far with no problem. Might as well keep goin’ some.
Maybe the stores in town were built sturdier a long time ago.”
“ .................. “
“This is getting perversely funny. I’ve never been this chatty in my entire life. ........ Weird too. I mean because the old part of town is centered on Route 66. Whoooo. Believe that symbolism stuff?”
Maddie shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows. Conk interpreted that as; “Depends.”
“Seriously, we’ve got to be careful there. The main roads are getting all the nut jobs. And we’ll be back in mine territory.”
“ ............ “
They walked over the edges of the yards in front of the damaged, quiet houses. Some were just a bit disheveled. Some were substantially absent. And some were haphazardly lying on the ground, waiting for the renewal brought by a construction crew. An audacious, acutely triangular metal sign stood on its post as it always had. It announced that the next left was Route 66. The third six was added by a sloppy free-lance painter. The road ahead became entirely concrete.
Conk said; “Remember to stay off the patches.”
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“ .............. “
Conk held his semi-automatic in his left and Maddie in his right hand left as they made their turn. It was not what he expected. The condition of the storefronts was much like that of the houses. The four lane highway was host to the occasional moving car and some dead ones. That was expected. But, rather than a street teeming with marauding refugees out of “Mad Max,”
there were no people visible. Conk stopped in his tracks, looked at Maddie, and said; “ ............ “
Maddie fully agreed with his sentiments.
He thought; “Can’t let down my guard. They might be waiting for just that.” He kept his gun ready; up high, the barrel and nozzle pointed at the sky.
They walked past the shoe store, leather shop, One Dollar, and a men’s clothing store named Archie Gottlieb’s. They also walked past a few carcasses, which sat within their bombed out cars. Feeling more secure, Conk dropped his gun position to thigh level. He pointed it toward the remnants of a street explosion, and said; “Maddie; look at that.”
She complied.
“Don’t the guts look just like spaghetti? Aren’t you the least bit hungry yet?”
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The only sound Maddie made was actually one done through partnership. Her fist hit his shoulder.
“Ouch. I was only joking. Darn it, girl. Have you taken any martial arts training?”
Maddie didn’t speak, but Conk was certain that he detected a badly hidden smile.
“Hey, here we go. Canned goods and accessories. ‘Por Sienpre Bodega,’ and it still has a roof on it. Let me lead.”
“ ........... “
Inside, he said; “This is definitely not what I expected.”
“ ................... “
“I mean, come on. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that with food a priority, nobody seems to have taken any?”
Maddie raised her eyebrows and eyes virtually in tandem.
“Glad I’m with someone so smart. ....... Okay, I’m gonna load up. Look at this! Chicken, corn, beans, beef ........ All right, all right. I know. You take this stuff for granted in normal times. But, maybe you’ve noticed that these are not normal times.”
Maddie curled her lips into a one sided demonstration of hemispheric differentiation, incorrectly construed as partial facial paralysis. It was not pleasant.
“Artichokes!”
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Maddie waved both her hands as if she was doing a frantic doggie paddle and shook her head from side to side quicker than the waves of florid air dictated.
“It’s healthy. ....... They say. ....... Okay, no artichokes. What do you have against these little buds anyway?”
Maddie’s pupils engaged the natural, stained, low pine ceiling.
“All set. Hey, look. They got some clothes in the back.”
“ ......... “
Conk removed a ruffled, white, peasant blouse from the rack and handed it to Maddie.
Maddie recoiled and refused to take it.
Sounding something like one of John Cleese’ comedy routines; Conk said; “Ew. Ew. Is my princess too exalted for such fare? .......... Or would you rather stink?”
Maddie snatched the blouse from him. She then took a few more from the rack, added some blue jeans and stuffed them in her backpack.
“All set?”
Maddie nodded.
“We should now have enough stuff to get us all the way to LA.”
Relaxed, with his gun back in his pocket, Conk and Maddie walked side to side out the front door they had come in. The
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contented, playful luxury of being “off point” ended abruptly and all too soon. Conk fumbled as he reached for his gun when he caught unexpected movement in the corner of his eye. Fortunately his momentary lapse didn’t matter as the movement was innocuous, slow, unarmed, and randomly anchored.
It appeared to be what they had called “Homeless” almost a half century prior. In the year of 2052 the phenomenon had been politicized from all directions. The net result was that there were three times as many, but they were referred to with the dignity of the “Hygiene Defiant” moniker.
In either case Conk thought that this one looked both homeless and deranged. So, he got in front of Maddie and pointed his gun at the weaving man.
The uneasy silence was broken by Conk who said; “Do you know what happened here?”
The guy spit in apparent disgust, then laughed at something the other two didn’t notice. When he managed to become almost stationary he said; “Yeah, I know. Getting’ tired of sayin’ it.
It’s harvest time. You know; like the Grim Reaper and all of that. People been talkin’ about it thinkin’ it was a fantasy.
The cattle think that they’re at the top of the food chain until the sledgehammer meets the skull. They’ve taken them all away now. Serves ‘em right. I told them and nobody listened.” He whirled and fell to the ground.
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Conk paused a few seconds before saying; “Well, I guess he’s no threat. ......... Not any use as an ally either. Let’s head out.”
Maddie saw something of interest and stooped to the ground near the passed out man. She lifted the triangular, silver necklace he wore and stared at it. Conk crouched near her and took the necklace in his hand.
He said; “Just like yours. And it’s got his name too. Bob Pleinsaurian.”
Maddie took back the medallion, ripped the chain from the man’s neck and threw it into the street.
“I’d say ‘tell me what,’ but I know that you won’t.”
Maddie briskly walked back toward the main road and Conk followed, deep in thought, and loaded down with clanking cans.
He called out; “Maddie! Slow down and watch for the patches.
After just a few steps on the overgrown path, Conk got a better idea than he had ever had on the football field. Since they were on flat land which was only vegetated by short, shrubby, dead things; it was not much more difficult to walk alongside it. For the present this approach eliminated the possibility of stepping on a mine, as they had all been placed on roads. So far.
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“I keep thinking about how you reacted to that Hygiene Defiant guy. Just because he has the same taste in jewelry?”
Maddie seemed to almost laugh, but caught herself and remained stoical.
“Almost got ya. You know, if you don’t hold up your end of the conversation I’m going to have to drink all the water.”
“ ............ “
“All right. You’re going to get a football story. ......
I’m a rookie and we’re playin’ the Rams at home in New Jersey, last game of the season. Oh yeah, we were called the New York Giants, but the team had been playing in New Jersey since before I was born. Always thought that was insulting to the Garden State, but it wasn’t my problem. My problem was that I was an unproven rookie. Fans don’t hear the stuff that goes on on the field, but there’s a lot of trash talkin’. If they can take you out of the game through intimidation, they’ll do it every time.
No big thing. It’s just like anything else. Know what I mean?”
“ .......... “
“Anyway we’re up 20-17 with three minutes left. Rams need the win to get to the playoffs and we’re already out of it. They got it, fourth and eight on our forty. They got to go for it
‘cause if they don’t they might not get the ball back again and they’re a good seven yards out of field goal range. They gotta pass. So, I figure they’ll bring somebody out of the back field
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on a delay for a short one, and hope that he can pick it up.
It’s really a chicken s*** call from the coach as its not gonna be a criticizable zero. Follow?”
“ ........ “
“I guess it’s a guy thing. Anyway we’re not puttin’ on much of a rush, just three guys, as everybody’s back playin’ the pass. The quarterback is takin’ his time as he’s under no pressure whatsoever, hopin’ his running back will find an open spot and get there. In the meantime this all-pro guard who’s been ridin’ me all game long and gave me a couple of cheap shots doesn’t have anything to do. So, he starts lookin’around. 320
pounds of ripplin’ fat with eyes that look like a deer in the high beams. I decide that the game ain’t no big thing for the Giants, but that cleanin’ fat boy’s clock was a big thing for me. So I left the middle wide open and got a runnin’ start at him. Oooooh, baby; that blind side hit was so good that he went spinnin’ off and finally lost his balance and fell right on the quarterback. We got one first down; then ran out the clock. Mr.
Big Deal All-Pro took the Rams out of the playoffs and little by little people were learnin’ not to mess with me. That was the highlight of my career and when I got the name ‘Conk’”
“ ........ “
“Guess it’s a guy thing. ....... Yeah, it was great bein’
out there every week. People screamin’ like the game was more
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important to them than their jobs. Wide eyed little kids seein’
the wonders of the stadium for the first time. Reporters hangin’
around tryin’ to get a quote. Made you feel important, you know.
....... And the best part was those green fields. Perfection.
The crew would be workin’ on ‘em all week to get them ready.
They were greener than green. Beautiful. ........... Never again.”
Conk looked at Maddie and saw her forehead wrinkle and then she turned away and scratched it. Conk got quiet and they kept their feet moving.
After having navigating the manageable impediment imposed by 40,000 small, dead shrubs, Conk was re-invigorated and said;
“Don’t you want to know my real name?”
“ ........... “
“Well, all right then. I’m not going to tell ya. But, I know yours.”
Maddie shot him a look which might have said; “Oh yeah?”
Conk said; “Once and for all I’m going to find out if you have the ability to speak.” He crouched and tickled her belly.
Her giggling shriek indicated that the problem was not one with her vocal chords.
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A bit further down the non-road Maddie sensed something she must not have liked. She pulled at Conk’s arm and motioned her head toward something off in the distance to their right.
Conk remembered the horsemen’ warning and readied his automatic, pulling back the bolt. He said; “Lay flat on the ground while I check this out.”
Maddie grimaced and did a half squat.
“Come on Maddie. This is serious. Bullets may start flying!”
She rolled her eyes like a ghetto mama required to attend a birth control class in order to keep her government “benefits,”
and then complied.
Just like he was trained in Marine boot camp, Conk took off his backpack, got on his belly and slithered like an equipped lizard. He moved in the direction that Maddie’s motion had indicated and saw nothing other than the same old parched terrain they had been on for some time. He briefly considered turning back, but the possibility of getting a bullet up his lesser occipital mandible was not appealing.
Arms which appeared to be human popped up from what had to be a hole in the ground. Conk was cautious, as he didn’t know if there were more on the way. Since whatever was there had seen him coming, there was no risk in calling out; “Just driftin’
through. Don’t want no trouble,” while he held onto his gun.
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A head appeared. A human head. Fifty feet away. It said;
“Neither do I.”
“Any more with ya?”
“No.”
“Get out there and stand up.”
Conk heard a laugh, and the face said; “I’ll do my very best.”
“Keep your hands in the air.”
“Your gracious request may well be much more than with which I am able to currently comply. You might well recognize that this is not a matter of being willfully surly. But, it is rather the consequence of a self-induced, fleeting disability.
Might you be one of the horsemen, sir?”
“Come on. Just get on your feet and out here in the open.”
“You refrained from mentioning whether or not you are a horseman.”
“Do you see any horses, idiot?”
The head extended further from the hole with arms raised above it and the partnership appeared to be jumping up and down.
Conk said; “Jesus Christ,” stood up and walked to the hole.
He saw only this bearded, brown faced man and about thirty empty Smirnoff bottles. He put the gun back in its holster, and used both hands to pull the man to the surface. Conk noticed that his brown appearance was the result of dirt accumulation, as that of
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someone without a home, before the situation became universal.
The man proceeded to dispense with his wobbling and fell on his face.
Conk scoured the area, and seeing no other signs of life yelled to Maddie; “You can get up now.” Directing his attention back to the man with his face in the dirt, he said; “What are you doing here?”
“I’m conducting a Harvard funded study regarding the number of sand grains required to effectively and instantaneously drain thirty bottles of vodka or its derivative. ....... What does it look like I’m doing here? Idiot!
The studious one pushed himself up by his hands and rolled into a sitting position, and said; “I’m just trying to stay away from the horsemen. With the land so flat, they can’t see me when I’m down in the hole.”
Conk yelled; “Hey Maddie. Come on over.” Conk offered his right hand to the seated man and said; “Conk DeAngelo.”
The man took it, but not as an elevation device, and said;
“Jonathan Paycore.”
“Jon okay?”
“Comedian? ......... Never mind, yeah.”
“Football player. Never heard of me?”
“Don’t watch much football. Quarterback?”
“No. Comedian?”
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“No. CIA Intelligence. And that’s not an oxymoron.”
“Not a what?”
“ .............. “
“Hey, Jon. Meet Madeline Moitiesaurian; Maddie.”
Jon nodded and said; “Pleased to meet you Maddie.”
Maddie said; “ ........... “
Conk said; “Great little girl; but not much of a talker.
Jon, you were saying something about the horsemen. I might have run into two of them a while back.”
“And you’re still here. Means you must know how to handle yourself.”
“You know. Played some football and learned about guns when I was a kid.”
“Born down South?”
“Yeah. South side of Chicago. Hey, why don’t we all get down in the hole before the horsemen show up?”
“Not a lot of space.”
“Ah, if we throw all those bottles out we’ll be all right.”
The three climbed right down and Maddie made a joyous game of throwing the bottles; so the guys relaxed and let her enjoy herself. After they were all seated with their backs to the earthen wall, Conk said to Jon; “You mentioned the horsemen.
What do you know about them?”
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“Not a lot, really. The four of them have killed a few people who have passed this way and took the bodies somewhere.
They seem to be the only ones who are getting a kick out of this disaster. They kind of lull you into a false sense of security, and then pounce. How did you handle them?”
Maddie, who was sitting on the outside next to Conk, turned her head toward Jon seemingly interested.
“Well, there were only two there and I was on point the whole time. When they went for their guns I went for mine and beat ‘em to it. Said that next time they were going to introduce us to their ‘friends.’”
“I don’t get it. Isn’t somebody supposed to be dead or something?”
“Told ya I’m good with a gun, but I ain’t no killer. I shot the guns out of their hands. Got ‘em in the bag.”
“You should have killed them when you had the chance.
They’ll be more prepared next time.”
“Thought that as soon as it was over. At least Maddie and me would’ve had horses. .......... We’re headed for LA. What’re you doin’ out here?”
“I didn’t want to live in this mess but didn’t have the nerve to end it abruptly. My family, girlfriend and other friends are all gone. So, I took every bottle of vodka I could carry from town. I figured I’d either die from that or be too
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numb to feel it when somebody shot me. Haven’t eaten a thing in a week and I’ve been feeling it for a couple of days. Shouldn’t be too long.”
Maddie meant well, but also had an ulterior motive when she took a can from Conk’s pouch, opened it and handed the artichokes to Jon.
Conk said; “You’ve got to accept that Jon.”
Jon took it, said “Thank you,” and started gagging when he held it on his lap.
Maddie laughed.
Jon said; “That’s not funny.”
Maddie said; “ ........ “
Jon said; “She never talks?”
“Not in the time I’ve known her. I just picked her up at the side of the road when my car got blasted outside of Phoenix.
All by herself. Just had to help. ............ Come on Jon. This little girl needs your help. We heard that there is a survivalist group called LAWLESS in LA, who’s tryin’ to get things goin’ again. If those four guys catch up with me and Maddie, we could use some help.”
Jon said; “ ...... “
“You said that you were in CIA Intelligence. Do you have any idea of what caused all this?”
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“I was with a branch office in Phoenix. The main stuff goes on at headquarters in Langley, Fairfax County. There’s a series of inside jokes as the building they operate out of is named the George Bush Center for Intelligence. You can imagine all the Dubya stuff and there’s more. Anyway, I was techie. One of the guys writing the software to monitor communications. Key words, certain web sites, certain locations, patterns indicating possible codes, kind of easy stuff. It’s technically illegal, but it paid pretty well and what isn’t? And hey, there was an identifiable enemy. What they did with the information was none of my business. So, I was a minor cog on the wheel and couldn’t help but hear bits and pieces of some things. Around each other these CIA guys gossip like two old washer women over the back yard fence. They try to make outsiders think they are silently privy to high level stuff. Then they quit and write a book about it. Like, duh!!! Most all of the time it turns out to be completely wrong and I think that’s why it gets tolerated.”
“Er, um. You said that you were in CIA Intelligence. Do you have any idea of what caused all this?”
“Oh, yeah; of course not. That was just intended to be a qualifier to avoid saying a flat; ‘I don’t know.’ People think you’re stupid when you do that.”
“Once more ............. “
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“Yeah, yeah. Okay. ............... But, let me first say that I bear no responsibility for the accuracy of this information; nor am I responsible for any losses, charges or otherwise deleterious financial results emanating from its use, whether that be from an overt or implied statement. This is a work of fiction; and the characters contained therein in no way resemble any person, whether alive or dead ...........”
“Do you wanna get punched?”
“All right. All right. But, you have to understand that in this litigious world, a person has to protect themselves from spurious .................”
“There are no more courts!!!”
“ ........ Good point. About a month ago the whole place was in a tizzy. People were charging up and down the halls.
Smart phones were glued to ears. I heard that Rabinowitz, the head of Mossad, the Israeli CIA plus, sent an ultimatum to our head honcho, Olio Menpeko. Rabinowitz said that Mossad had determined that the US had a citizen who had the means, wherewithal and the connections to acquire a dirty nuclear device which he intended to be detonated in Israel. Unlike the standard protocol, Mossad was seeking US CIA co-operation in the elimination of this person.
I guess in and of itself that was something which could have been worked out. Problem was that Mossad wasn’t 100% sure
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who this person was. They said that they had the possibilities narrowed down to eight; some of them big or up-and-coming players in the religion Industry. They also said that their information indicated that D-Day would take place within thirty days. So, since we’re friends with Israel, Rabinowitz first cleared it with Premier Goldsack and they wanted all eight killed to ensure Israel’s safety.
Now, Menpeko has always had this independent, don’t-tell-me-what-to-do attitude and figured rather than limit his options by kicking it upstairs, he’d handle things himself. He reported to the Director of National Intelligence (DNI); Mitt Bushbaby; someone he always considered a know-nothing politico put in that spot to be the fall guy when needed. And he was kind of pissed about getting what he saw as a demand from Rabinowitz and Goldsack; when they still hadn’t paid for the planes delivered in 1968. His first approach was to question the validity of Mossad’s information and its interpretation. That’s where I came in.
There was nothing in CIA databases which indicated any nefarious activity on the part of these eight people. I’m sure that the chief considered the possibility that our work was not the industry state-of-the-art, and that we would pragmatically seek to hide that. But, since there was no one capable of refuting we techies, it had to be concluded, at least in polite
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conversation, that for the very least, step one would have to entail the disclosure and methodology of the Mossad conclusions.
Menpeko became politely livid when Rabinowitz refused to provide anything more than inconclusive ‘proof’ of cursory portions of their claims. In addition, the ‘admission’ that Mossad was monitoring data and conversations of ‘innocent’ US
citizens was unpalatable, even though the US was doing the same thing in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Haifa and other lesser Israeli locations. After all, we’re the good guys. Menpeko concluded that either there was something underhanded and unstated going on; or if they did have more, they likely did not want to share their technological advancement with the US as required or were pulling a bluff to gauge US support. None of the possibilities were satisfactory to Menpeko. Our subsequent research indicated that two of the Israeli targets were Jewish-American members of a small minority group called True Torah Jews (TTJ). TTJ’s reason for existence was their belief that the establishment of the primarily Jewish State of Israel was a violation of both the rules of The Bible and the rules of international morality. They called for a Jewish abandonment of Israel; but encouraged non-violent, voluntary withdrawal.
They seemed a much too convenient a target; though as well as one with motivation and no meaningful known resources.
Without being presented with conclusive proof, Menpeko refused
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to have the CIA a partner in the operation. Rabinowitz then inquired whether or not the CIA would look the other way if Mossad carried out the operation by itself; ensuring that they could make it look like a series of unrelated accidents.
Menpeko saw himself as being boxed into a losing position.
Seven or eight innocent American lives were not of any concern to him. It would not likely be noticed. But thinking this way, in effect, took Mossad at their much sullied word. More than that, Menpeko took it personally and didn’t like the pushy little subsidiary country’s insistence and challenge to his position as the head of the world’s most important secret society.
Menpeko told Rabinowitz; “Go ahead and do it at your own risk. What kind of crap are you trying to pull getting me involved anyway? You have my assurances that the CIA will not take any notice. Good enough? Do it cleanly and quietly, or all bets are off; Rabbi.
Here’s where I am forced to start some guessing. Out of good options and in a desire to ruin Rabinowitz’ career, Menpeko leaked this to the media. Somebody certainly did. At first it’s on like page 82 of the New York Times and disregarded as another undocumented piece of conspiracy garbage filler. But, someone looked into it and found that the specified eight people all died within two days of each other under curious circumstances.
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It hit the front pages. You must have seen that. The non-Jewish US citizenry got pissed as all hell and demanded some answers like pronto. Some radical conservative groups started to openly speak of retaliatory ‘hits’ in Israel. The general population proved to have zero tolerance for foreign intervention on US soil, even if that intervention was done by a
‘friend.’ Under pressure, President Abdul Jawaad called a nationally publicized press conference. But, the Prez really didn’t know anything and neither Menpeko nor Rabinowitz told him anything. Understandably. Bushbaby couldn’t even if he wanted to as he doesn’t know anything more than what Menpeko tells him and Goldsack is not going to help out a Muslim. So Jawaad got on TV
and registered his concern over the matter. He did the customary dance and said that he is establishing a ‘Blue Ribbon Panel’ to get to the bottom of this. He did a whole lot of the Obama patented pained expressions. Then he refused to take questions as he is so busy investigating the matter. SOS. Protests broke out all over the place as everybody now knows that this is the standard cover up formula. Then somebody, and I don’t know who, used the opportunity to set off a nuclear device in Tel Aviv; and another, less powerful dirty one in Jerusalem. My guess is that it was a well-to-do follower of the True Torah Jews, but the possibilities are endless; and I wouldn’t bet a nickel on it. The Israeli controlling Lehi Party, sometimes called the
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‘Stern Gang,’ under Premier Goldsack, went ape shit and started launching and dropping nuclear missiles all over the place, including the US. Missiles the US had given them. Since then all forms of communication have become non-existent and I think some things were set off underground.”
Conk said; “Never would have thought that something this big could start with something so small in the overall scheme of things. I could well imagine Israelis getting upset over an impending bomb. But, for the US to carry on like that over eight American lives is kind of ridiculous when compared to how many innocent lives have been lost in the Middle East. I’ve seen congressional testimony from the US military which estimates that 70% of the drone killings are innocent victims. 70%. One part of that story especially throws me. Can bombs shut off the internet and all means of communication?”
“No, I don’t think so. That’s throws me too. There had to have been somebody or something involved I don’t know about and can’t even guess at.”
“An Israeli super hacker?”
“The Lehis are pretty smart cookies and they keep to themselves. Or one from Hamas. Or one from Black Ops. Call of Duty. ISIS. Fatah. PFLP-GC. Homeland Security. An independent.
We’ll probably never know. What throws me even more is why didn’t Mossad just quietly come in and create eight ‘accidents.’
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The people were from different areas and nobody would have been suspicious. ......... The communications knockout must have been done by someone with free access to the most powerful secret stuff. Points back at Mossad or Lehi. Doesn’t matter anymore anyway. This is it for us. If they’re underground, they’re not sending out any invitations to the party.”
“We got LAWLESS in LA.”
“Maybe. I’ve heard you. Sounds too good to be true.”
“Beats hangin’ here in the cemetery.”
“ .......... Not so sure. .......... To say ‘guess so’
would be polite.”
The sun dropped behind the Superstitions. Six eyes closed as three brains felt safe for the night.
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