sorry, sir. No civilian firearms are permitted.” The whole scene made him feel uneasy. Granted, things were bad, and people had to be careful, but this just seemed—thuggish.
After a thorough pat down, a wave with a wand, like at the airport, and an ear thermometer reading, they let him in, but not before clamping some sort of metal bracelet on his wrist that blinked a dim, red light every five-seconds or so.
“What’s this?”
“A visitor’s pass, sir.”
Terry walked away, then turned back. “Say, how do you guys have power?… And vehicles that still run?”
“The government is always prepared, sir.”
----
Aisles and aisles of cots lined the hardwood floor, which just a few weeks ago, had hosted a WNBA game. Seattle Storm had punished the Phoenix Mercury. The scene was much different today. And forever?
Half of the gym was sectioned off with heavy plastic. They kept the sickies behind the opaque curtain. Six foot tall, light frame canvas walls sectioned off other areas, such as men’s and women’s dressing areas and lavatory areas. The lavs were actually five-gallon buckets with a toilet seat—the kind you might take camping. There were probably a couple of thousand refugees here—maybe more.
“Hey, man—get out of here while you still can,” a voice rang out behind him.
Terry turned to see a man in a wheelchair, dressed in an olive drab jacket, adorned with Semper Fi, POW, and American flag patches. The man reminded him of Tom Cruise in Born on the Fourth of July. “Excuse me?”
“This place is the death of America, get out while you still can.”
“What are you talking about?” Terry began to suspect this fella had ingested too much Agent Orange and LSD in his time.
“Before they inject you with the chip. Once you get the chip, it’s too late.”
The chip? Oh, fuck…. Terry wondered if Dean was right, but mostly he tried to cast doubt on this man’s sanity. “Um, okay. Thanks, man. I’ve got to find my sister now, so I’ll talk to you later.” And Terry began to walk away.
“Don’t let them give you the chip!” the old vet cried out behind him, “Don’t do it!”
Terry waved and tried to smile. This isn’t happening….
----
“Excuse me, sir?” Terry said.
The tall, stalky man (a guard?) turned slowly toward Terry and stared blankly. He was looking right at Terry, but not in the eyes. It was more like he was staring at the bridge of his nose or maybe between his eyebrows. “Hi…how would I find someone that I think might be here?”
The man looked off to his left without a word. When he saw this subtle gesture didn’t properly communicate whatever it was he was trying to say, he motioned with the tip of his rifle. He seemed to be indicating toward a door, a plain slab of mahogany with no label or sign.
Terry turned to look then back again. “That door over there? Wha—,” but the man was already gone. “Thanks, you’ve been very helpful,” Terry said to himself.
His bracelet flashed again and caught his eye. He spun it around his wrist and found it curious that it could not be removed without some sort of special tool. It reminded him of the anti-theft tags on clothing that would blast ink if improperly removed. Or something worse.
“Hey, man. Where are you going? Don’t go in there.” It was the man in the wheelchair again. “If you go in there, they own you.”
“Listen, man. I just need to find my sister.”
“Your sister? Jesus! The last thing you want to do is tell them you have a sister in here. Don’t tell them anything.”
“Okay….” Maybe Terry would get further by humoring this guy, even if he was a little short in the sanity department. “Then, what would you suggest?”
“I would suggest you turn around and leave while you still can.”
“That's not an option,” Terry said. “Not without my sister.”
“ If your sister's even here,” the man said. “If you go in there and talk to them right now, they’ll talk you into
After a thorough pat down, a wave with a wand, like at the airport, and an ear thermometer reading, they let him in, but not before clamping some sort of metal bracelet on his wrist that blinked a dim, red light every five-seconds or so.
“What’s this?”
“A visitor’s pass, sir.”
Terry walked away, then turned back. “Say, how do you guys have power?… And vehicles that still run?”
“The government is always prepared, sir.”
----
Aisles and aisles of cots lined the hardwood floor, which just a few weeks ago, had hosted a WNBA game. Seattle Storm had punished the Phoenix Mercury. The scene was much different today. And forever?
Half of the gym was sectioned off with heavy plastic. They kept the sickies behind the opaque curtain. Six foot tall, light frame canvas walls sectioned off other areas, such as men’s and women’s dressing areas and lavatory areas. The lavs were actually five-gallon buckets with a toilet seat—the kind you might take camping. There were probably a couple of thousand refugees here—maybe more.
“Hey, man—get out of here while you still can,” a voice rang out behind him.
Terry turned to see a man in a wheelchair, dressed in an olive drab jacket, adorned with Semper Fi, POW, and American flag patches. The man reminded him of Tom Cruise in Born on the Fourth of July. “Excuse me?”
“This place is the death of America, get out while you still can.”
“What are you talking about?” Terry began to suspect this fella had ingested too much Agent Orange and LSD in his time.
“Before they inject you with the chip. Once you get the chip, it’s too late.”
The chip? Oh, fuck…. Terry wondered if Dean was right, but mostly he tried to cast doubt on this man’s sanity. “Um, okay. Thanks, man. I’ve got to find my sister now, so I’ll talk to you later.” And Terry began to walk away.
“Don’t let them give you the chip!” the old vet cried out behind him, “Don’t do it!”
Terry waved and tried to smile. This isn’t happening….
----
“Excuse me, sir?” Terry said.
The tall, stalky man (a guard?) turned slowly toward Terry and stared blankly. He was looking right at Terry, but not in the eyes. It was more like he was staring at the bridge of his nose or maybe between his eyebrows. “Hi…how would I find someone that I think might be here?”
The man looked off to his left without a word. When he saw this subtle gesture didn’t properly communicate whatever it was he was trying to say, he motioned with the tip of his rifle. He seemed to be indicating toward a door, a plain slab of mahogany with no label or sign.
Terry turned to look then back again. “That door over there? Wha—,” but the man was already gone. “Thanks, you’ve been very helpful,” Terry said to himself.
His bracelet flashed again and caught his eye. He spun it around his wrist and found it curious that it could not be removed without some sort of special tool. It reminded him of the anti-theft tags on clothing that would blast ink if improperly removed. Or something worse.
“Hey, man. Where are you going? Don’t go in there.” It was the man in the wheelchair again. “If you go in there, they own you.”
“Listen, man. I just need to find my sister.”
“Your sister? Jesus! The last thing you want to do is tell them you have a sister in here. Don’t tell them anything.”
“Okay….” Maybe Terry would get further by humoring this guy, even if he was a little short in the sanity department. “Then, what would you suggest?”
“I would suggest you turn around and leave while you still can.”
“That's not an option,” Terry said. “Not without my sister.”
“ If your sister's even here,” the man said. “If you go in there and talk to them right now, they’ll talk you into
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