Servants & Masters (Watermelon Brain Trilogy Book 1)

This novel series was written with much prayer said before, during and over most of this novel series trilogy beseeching the Mighty One to bless this text; these are His words I begged Him to give me during these prayers. Divinely inspired? Anything is Possible.

Consider the following three novels in this trilogy though independent, consider them from beginning to end of all three in your memory, thoughts and considering these events, and the shadows of our own times contained within. Sojourn with me. Where we begin, will be nothing like where we end, but it will be, the same place.

Watermelon Brain Trilogy

Book One of Three

The Foyer Entry To The Main Book:

“The Watermelon Brain”

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Started: May 4th, 2022

(May the fourth be with you!)

A Fox Wild Novel.

Chapter 1

A Mind Of Mush

The waves lapped at the dingy and crusted over, trash and lake vomit filled, dank and smelly, because of the afore mentioned items, shore of the lake. Lake Fuck-a-Nut or something. The storms had subsided for now, Sophia said they ‘was a done a blowin’ fer now’ in her semi mock Norse manner. Even after we entered the hillside bunker, she prayed to Odin repeatedly, which is allowed as, he is one of the allowed g-ds now. It seemed when strangers were around, her accent increased.

The reply to my comment was that it was nerves since the Norse manner, wasn’t warm and friendly. I think she liked to have the advantage of people thinking her a rube as she spoke in the manner of one. A rube she was not. Nor was I, I knew the name of the lake, I was just pissed at her right now. Allow me to extrapolate…

Twice a year the lake ‘rolled over’ as the locals said, even a lake this large; spring was the worst; half rotted matter from deep down rose with the warming waters and came towards the surface, linger at a level of cud forming for a week and some, grouping with friends, then as the storms from the same blessed and cursed change of seasons churned the surface of these angry waters, this lake cud is thus brought to the top of the lake.

White capped waves carry this mess of reeds and loon/duck shit just below the surface, and deposit the matter and floating shells on the beaches and shores of typically the western and south western shores. The smell from this half lake digested lake cud, is bad enough freshly regurgitated, however, given a day in the sun, it percolates one might say. And we typically, depending on the direction of the storm, had to wait a week, wrong direction, much longer.

Just as a compost heap starts to cook, so does the deposit of loon shit and lake debris, with the empty shells of former snails holding water, for breeding winged monsters capable of carrying small dogs and children away. Once it has percolated for about three days, it begins the fermentation process, thus, you want to have it cleaned off the beach as soon as the storm stops and before the sun begins the baking process and the mosquitoes breed.

That is what I was doing at this time, cleaning the beach, ten days into this process; toxicity levels were ‘high’ for a few days but dropped fast as eastern rains hit us good. I lived on the homestead part of the beachfront resort like thing. My boss was Mister McGee, and he often told me he ’didn’t like my kind ‘cuz I was a bit too leisurely’. He was a bit of a Prince fan, and we both made use of that line and other Prince references.

Hudson closed the store the day Prince passed. Hudson McGee, he was alright in my book. For the funeral, the store was closed two days before, the day of, and two days after; this was well before my time here, as I would have been a girl of near fifteen then.

He never said anything, however, I saw pictures of Mister McGee, when he was in his 30’s I’d say, and he was with a very young Prince. Some were very casual and candid shots, by a lakeside in what looked to be a private lawn. Prince holding up a fish, Croppie, nice catch. They seemed a bit too personal, so I stopped looking and moved away from working in that part of the basement.

My mind drifted off, as it often does, trying to catch stray thoughts as they drifted by on the winds of dreams, carried along by feathers of memories… memories… I had some… memories.

That was the thing about my brain, my memories at times seemed… disorganized in… odd ways. It’s like there was a fog in my brain, an area I couldn’t reach… or didn’t want to. Looking off a different direction, I pondered my shattered memories. Some I was sure were mine, things that really happened; others… they felt like… from TV or something, like I was remembering a show I had watched… but… I wasn’t one for watching TV… was I? I didn’t even know if I was or was not a TV person. I’d like to think not. But my memories, were, jumbled, that fit; and some… didn’t feel like mine.

I looked at the clock, “awe fish!” I was late, not really, Mister McGee would be looking for me soon, probably not yet. My eyes locked on the stairs… thoughts flowed by, another time, the same time at times, my thoughts were odd, things I’ve done, but, have I? Didn’t seem like things… I would do, but… at times, I did. I knew I was from Florida, I knew it was destroyed, was on the news for a while, I left before it was destroyed.

My eyes moved off. But… how can I have memories from Florida, after it was destroyed, that happened… after it was destroyed, before it was destroyed, twice?? My brain was mush most of the times. My nights were the worst, I never got more than four hours of sleep; crash hard, could not be woken, for four hours, then, up and can’t sleep for at least sixteen, eighteen is better, hours or more. I’m fine with more usually, I like work, it’s fun and I enjoy it, it’s almost like it’s own reward… actually, it is a reward to me, that’s why I like it so.

I was actually glad for this ‘other’ assignment my master handed to me. That’s these pages he thinks are of some interest. About the only instructions he gave me was, ‘write down what you think, feel, write things as you perceive them, and as your perception changes, record that with the events. Have fun with it Doll Face, it could become something people will want to read about, our adventures as this happens’. I scoffed at him, but do/did as he has asked and every night, put the days in a new book that I turn into him, along with my originals, of which in three days, I get a copy of; on occasion I was told I would get an installment book in a form.

Time passed; Hudson and I ran the store by ourselves, the two other boys that had helped stock and clean before I arrived here, graduated high school and didn’t return that summer; one into the military, the other to a somewhat prestigious college. A bypass on the highway had caused the city to shrink to township size thus causing many people to move to nearby cities with more and better jobs.

Many businesses closed because of this; even the school was being considered for closure because of falling enrollment. The open school enrollment program saved, well, half of it. The bargain and trade deal worked out, closed half the building down for classes and later became regional school related offices. Small class sizes meant better education; people invested in this. All of this was before my ostentatious arrival in Split Rock though. By the time I arrived, the school itself, no longer existed having been hit by a stray standard bomb.

“Time for our annual employee picnic. What time you want to come over to the house? Have a date this year?” Mister McGee asked in his stately and calm manner.

I shook my head as I kept putting whatever crap I was unboxing away. “No date, never a date. What time you want to start? Employee picnic, please, it’s the 4th of July, and you are having a backyard barbecue, just admit it, you live for this holiday. And you usually get your annual allotment of pussy. That’s when I’ll ask for a raise.”

He scoffed, then chortled. “Oy, direct you are, lazy much, yes, but direct, always. Only redeeming quality you have girl, to work, go, now.”

I gave him the finger.

“One day, I intend to take you up on that offer, I will not reveal the hour nor the day I shall do so, for you will have to always be ready.” He retorted one time, he had his own snarky sense of humor, it rivaled mine when fully displayed. Thus, I backed down.

“Anytime sir, anytime. You want me to stock the chicken feed next? Fence posts come in tomorrow, need space.” I offered.

He looked off towards where our ‘feed and seed store’ area was. Honestly, it was the most profitable part of the store. Mister McGee bought the feed store out, what was left of it anyways; that is why he moved it into his grocery store, which was more and more like an insane department store.

When the owners of the restaurant abandoned their business, Mister McGee took possession of it. Same thing with the only fuel station in town; the owners simply packed up in the middle of the night, and left. Mister McGee kicked in the door, found all the keys, kept it open all on his own money, and was something I was here to witness.

Somehow he even managed to keep the post office open, which kept the dying village on the map. Clearly, Mister McGee had some hidden fundage, he effectively owned the town, operated it and kept it functioning at a minor level.

Many things you needed to make the 84 or 342 mile trip to one of the other two closest and large cities. Both had medical facilities, the largest and furthest away, was a major heart hospital. The only thing Split Rock has, is a very good veterinarian. He was the local medicine man; everyone kept their mouths shut, he’d stitch up your cuts, reattach your fingers when you got wild with a saw; and he was here, and cheap. Only doctor in the region you could pay with chickens, llamas, or a goat.

I’ve even seen an alligator he took in once. When it was 16 feet long, he donated it to a zoo, in Alaska. That made me smile, I hated that reptile.

“Take en these to the cafe. Then, come back here, more to do for you.” Hudson told me late one afternoon. “Tomorrow, we begin the preparations for the festivities, you will be attending.”

Sighing hard, I only nodded and moved on from there, to take the load he wanted to the empty restaurant, to the empty restaurant. Three customers a week, that was all he had there, and it was the same three. One was a trucker that passed by, we were his point to turn west, and he was also the only customer that bought diesel fuel. We kept the food that they usually bought on hand, not much else.

Mister McGee gave me the entire complex of apartments above the restaurant. As he was the mayor of Split Rock, and had made the changes required by law, he was in all considerations, potentate over the entire city, with which he annexed many lands in the expansion of his empire; with the ‘elected’ (and unopposed) officials of the council consistently voting in favor of the changes the mayor wanted to make, in the end turning all powers over to the mayor, and thus eliminating the need for their offices, due to lack of population; this allowed by law, condensing of various offices in the name of efficiency, offices the mayor had already assumed command of.

This all somehow worked into Glorious Leader’s grand plan to recover and rebuild after the global war of nations, and the primmer reason for allowing small cities and other bodies to condense and assume greater power. As Hudson McGee would say, ‘Nuff said.’

Utilizing my engineering knowledge and degree, I opened the entire top two floors of the three story building, and made my dream home. The properties of the city where people simply left, were seized for back taxes by the city, (Mister McGee) and legally transferred to whom he wanted. Or as I liked to phrase it, Mister McGee made government his bitch. His wife was an issue though. Evil, nasty, and the large thorn in Mister McGee’s side. What she did to him, from what little I saw, he did not deserve, no human being did.

Mister McGee owned the entire town. Even the police department was his, as Mayor. He hired two Marines to run that system. They also were part of the fire department, where a Navy fire chief was the chief of our fire department, and the only paid member of the fire team. The volunteers received credit at the grocery store in remuneration. Kept things off the tax pages.

Our two ‘officers’ did many things, such as operating the street sweeper, after they completed the paving of the streets that had been unfinished for nearly 25 years. They fixed the curbs as well; replaced the lights (bulbs) so the streets were bright again and ‘safe’ from a police standard. It also made the night sky light up so a town looked inviting to weary travelers. Not much help in the end; nice thought, not much return sadly; travelers were seldom and most saw us simply as the point to turn west at; north was the enemy.

The police were also the city street crew, which technically, we didn’t have, and couldn’t because of the smallness of our sweat drop on the map. This was more of Hudson’s craftiness in using the government to do his bidding. Though no city street department was allowed to be funded as we had no size to authorize one, we still had a budget for roads (intention of hiring outside crews) with no specifics on whom could be paid out of these monies, in short, we could pay a dog for shitting in the street and it would be legal. We were allowed a police department, so, hire two cops, pay their auxiliary wages out of the repair budget, it’s all good, and legal.

“What is this shit?! Why is this in my way?” Micky screamed. McKenzie, the bride of Frankenstein so to speak, accurately though.

“You’ll have to be a touch more specific McKenzie, you’re in the loading bay for the entire city, there’s a lot of shit here.” I replied.

She huffed, stomped her feet alternately and made a disgruntled noise. “Don’t get mouthy with me missy, you’ll find yourself without a job.” She offered as an empty threat.

I guffawed hard. “Right, I run this city for your husband, me, he needs, you, well, who actually needs a boil on their ass?” I returned.

“Alright, both of you, shut your holes; no one is getting fired. Unless you intend on doing everything Lydia does Micky.” Hudson injected as he came from hiding, as he often did when the whore of Babylon entered our sanity.

Crossing her arms over her ample chest, McKenzie huffed and looked off with an indignant expression. “Fuck no, keep her, she’s fit for bitch work.”

“I’d hold off on leaving Micky, storm’s about to hit, that spring change storm. Gonna get bad out there sweetie pie.” Hudson said to the bride of Frankenstein’s monster, his wife.

He never spoke bad of her, openly. His eyes said many other things that would never pass his lips. He honored his wife though she shit on him every chance she could. As the years rolled passed from when I simply stopped, looking for a safe and sound for a week or so just to collect my thoughts before moving on and ending up staying longer and longer, I became more and more aware of what his bride of Frankenstein really was. She made me respect Mister McGee more and more.

“Yeah, the resort place will need the beach cleaned up again, lake’s gonna do it’s spring roll. Could use an extra hand on a rake, especially after three days down under.” I offered to McKenzie. “I have a rake that will fit your hand perfectly McKenzie.”

Holding up her middle finger she replied, “Fuck you bitch. It’s Micky, you know I hate McKenzie.”

Yes, I knew she hated being called McKenzie. “McKenzie, you couldn’t handle me in the sack, and I don’t swing that way anyways.” I stated with a chortle.

Hudson sighed hard. “Ladies, before a cat fight starts, what do you want Micky? Why are you here? This is where work happens, you hate work, so why are you here?” She was pushing his patients, I wonder if she realized this, or cared if she did.

Now, my mouth was sealed hard, Hudson got snippy with McKenzie, this rarely happened.

She scoffed hard now. “I am leaving soon, you know this, I do this every year. My vacation from this hell hole. It’s my money supporting this village, that died years ago. Why you insist on keeping this place alive… pull the plug already.” She looked at some things as she shook her head for effect. “Bleah, this place… anyways, in the morning, I will be leaving. Have my car ready, fueled, oil changed, it’s a long drive, well, anywhere from here. Make sure its perfect.”

“Yes dear, I still think you would be wise to wait, storms are going to be bad.” Mister McGee offered.

McKenzie snorted. “Yes, I know what these storms mean, part of why I am leaving; she may like the stink…” she motioned towards me, “but I can’t stand that loon shit stink. Close this place, sell it if you can, the cities have more to offer and we could make money.” She stated, then turned and stormed off, having issued her decrees.

We both stood there, watching her as she thundered on her way with an angry walk. Several minutes passed as my mind wandered; past today, to a time when I first paused here.

“Yeah, I’d like a room, ah, for about a week, if you have anything.” I said to the desk clerk, when the resort actually rented cabins. This was Mister McGee I would learn.

“We don’t have rooms miss, cabins, $85 a night, seven days, six nights, $390, no refunds for less nights on the package. Five days, four nights, $420, no refunds.” The man had told me.

I laid four hondo’s on the counter. “Keep the change.” I offered.

He took the bills, had me fill out the paperwork, then slid a ten quid note to me. “No tipping allowed.”

Taking my key, I pushed the quid towards him. “I do what I want with my money.” Picked up my bags and headed off towards my cabin.

I heard the man chuckling as I strode off. This would turn out to be a mark in fate I would later learn, calling respect for myself from this man. Freedom and freewill were valuable things in the mind of Mister McGee. I was here about three days when we spoke again.

“What girl, are you running from?” The clerk asked me.

Looking back at him over my shoulder, “No idea what you’re talking about man, stick with your day job.” I said in a snarky tone, intending to carry the message of keep your nose out of my business dude.

“Your sins will haunt you in your dreams miss. You must face them, in order to defeat them.” He replied.

I had kept walking. ‘Sins’, interesting concept. I had been raised in the belief of ‘sin’ and the concept that we could sin against G-d. For a moment, I considered if this clerk shared in my former families belief in sin and concept of G-d? Foolishness was my thought on that. My people, my family, prayed, much they prayed. Didn’t help when the soldiers came for them.

I was away at college at the time else I would have joined them in death. I used my party affiliation to change my name, last name that is, and hide the previous records. As a ‘trusted volunteer’ I was granted much access to various abilities and records, by default mostly.

Structural and electronic engineering were the two fields I held high degree in. Mostly, I hid in college while the tribulations of my time were against many people. But this would only last so long. Finally, I was forced to leave college, the government allotted no more funding for my education having earned two doctorates. ‘To work with you’ was their demand. And here is where my first troubles began.

The government selected several positions for me, that all landed in security graded jobs, requiring advanced clearance, thus the in-depth background check. My covering my lineage was about to be uncovered, thus, I made a sudden change and moved to another region.

Lydia Blake was the girl’s name. Part of the reason I chose her, was because in addition to being nearly my perfect twin, her first name was the same as mine; I liked my name and wanted to keep it without changing it; that would be a trait that would be easy to follow, changing the name to Lydia.

She also had a nice bank account, which at the time, I was unaware of as it was in the ‘pending’ status in the manner of a trust fund. This worked well as she was yet to be rich and this was not a consideration in the investigation of her death, though, it was not her death they investigated, just a side note.

The arrest decree for myself was issued, I kept a sniffer watching for it, when it happened, the timing was good, Ms. Blake was wandering in a secured park. So was I, only, my identity was criminal, hers was not, and the two were about to conjoin. When I tackled her in a manner that looked ‘accidental’ I used my hack on the system and swapped our identities. Then I snuffed the backup system, forcing it to sync with the current system effectively hiding my change of records.

Complete swap, fingerprints, DNA, everything, only the names and history were untouched. Only the actual identities were affected, the information connected to the rest thus leaving Lydia Blake with my education. In order to find the truth, an interrogation of archive locked files would be needed; this was rarely done due to the fact that the ancient archives were somewhat unstable and using them was held to super needed and important issues, which, I was not.

The backup error reset trick, was hard enough to pull off, syncing the time, even harder, and the way I did it, to cause it under a hidden manner, during a time when the backup reset would not be recorded because the system was blind at that moment, pure genius and beyond hard. But, I did it. Got thru clean.

After Lydia Blake defended herself, confirmed on camera by the approaching guards, she made her escape, thus clearing the area for the guards to open fire on the political enemy of the nation, the other Lydia. Her religion was the reason for this, even though she no longer participated since she left her childhood home.

This made no difference because of her families prominence in their particular religious sect. ‘Leave no orphans’ was the general rule, therefore, Lydia had to die when it was discovered whom she descended from. Religion (specific ones) no longer had any place in the world.

“Lydia Blake…” The clerk had said, then looked me over. “Uh-huh. Sign here miss.”

I was on the news, well, the real Lydia Blake. She was a very naughty girl, stealing protected information, providing it to enemy agents, planting bombs, murder, she was involved in the poisoning of the water system of Southland Water Works and killing some 300 people in that slave district.

My week was almost done, I was pondering staying, this was an out of the way place. The day was drifting to night as I sat on the veranda watching the TV that was tuned to the mandated government recorded news channel. Raids were happening in many major cities. Religious groups were being smashed because they sought to overthrow the government. At least, that was the reason offered; Christians, Jews, even Mormons were being arrested for insurrection, then executed. Political zealots were also in the mix for unacceptable citizens, those typically were religious types in the conservative branch.

“World is in turmoil. Be a good time to keep away from these things.” The clerk said to me as he walked up behind me, cleaning.

I only offered a slow nod as my eyes remained on the screen. My spine electrified as the story about me came on the recorded stream. You know what I mean, the old me, not this version of me. “Lydia Goldstein was terminated after an extensive gun battle erupted when national security forces attempted to detain the insurrectionist who has been linked to multiple bombings taking the lives of many party members. In addition to being the master mind behind the planning of these attacks, she herself was involved in a plot to infiltrate the government at the highest levels.”

“This girl, she could be your twin, Blake…” The clerk grunted when he finished speaking.

“Fuck you.” I muttered.

He chuckled. “A pleasure it would be, I am sure, miss Blake, someday, I will take you up on this offer, now though, you need a job, a place to hide, I need a receptionist and a stocker for the store. You can move into the homestead house, the beaches will be your morning responsibility.”

His words took a moment to sink into me brain; he was offering me… sort of, a job. I had doctorate degrees, and he was offering me, his job. “No thanks, not interested in doing what you do clerk Kent.” I responded indignantly.

“I am Hudson McGee, you will call me Mister McGee. I own all that you see here, the resort, store, feed and seed. You go out from here miss… Blake… you’re a dead girl, and you know this.” After saying this, he dug in his left front pants pocket, pulling out a key on a fob. Holding it out, he took a step forward, dropping the key in front of me. “Oh six hundred, blue barn building, you’ll see it from the front window, to your right as you look out. I’ll show you how to clean the beach.” He said, then he turned and left.

That was my beginning here, and my end in a way. I never made it to where I intended to go; this turned out to be a good thing as the war of nations grew. Had I been at my original destination, I would have died in the missile attack on the city. Nothing survived, the area is a sea of glass now.

My only real scare was when the CG-men (or just G-men, all like these guys, are from Central something tells me.) showed up in our scant town. Electric vehicles, a van and what passed for an SUV, pulled into the station when I was there. Mister McGee came walking from the back, something beeping in his hand, alerting him to their arrival. He stowed the device in a secret place, “Stay here.” he ordered. No problem there.

Keeping out of sight, I listened in via the outside speakers near the pumps.

“Can I help you gentleman with something? Or you lost?” Hudson said in a cool tone.

The lead man held out an ID leather. “National Central Security Division. Major (redacted). We are looking for people on the run. They are being sought for acts of treason and terrorism. Please look at these pictures and identify any you recognize.”

Mister McGee twitched his head to the side and tisked. “Only people that aren’t from here I’ve seen in a week, is you people. Ain’t been anyone through here recently.”

The man held out a tablet. “Please look at the pictures. Hudson McGee, correct?”

Taking the tablet from the man, who wouldn’t have accepted any other response, Hudson nodded at first. “Yes, that’s me.”

For the first time, I looked at my master differently. I saw him, as he’d seen me in the beginning. Hudson McGee was not his anymore than Blake was mine, only, neither name fit him. I still was Lydia.

“This is Lydia Gold… something… she’s dead I thought. Why is her picture in here?” Hudson asked.

The man shook his head. “Not the same girl, that’s Lydia Blake, the girl she attacked, the Goldstein girl. Party member that went missing. Have you seen her?”

Now he was on the spot; reading the situation, he knew they were looking for me here specifically. My ping was here. Slowly he began nodding, trepidation clear in his manner. Mister McGee was rubbing off on me. “Yes, she is here, and safe.”

He knew they would want to see me in the flesh, I was unaware Lydia Blake was a party member. This would either be to my benefit, or demise. “Please summon her, I need to confirm her status.”

Nodding Mister McGee walked over to the intercom and pressed the call button. I answered of course. “Miss Blake, come to me at once, there are Central government agents here to verify you.”

Replying back, I confirmed I was coming, and left the station thru the front door.

When I arrived the lead man asked, “Lydia Blake?” to which I nodded. Then he held out a reader for my palm, to confirm I was Lydia Blake. “Please place your entire hand on the reader.”

I did as he asked. It took a second, then beeped and I removed my hand and he watched the display. It was less than ten seconds I’m sure, though it felt like half an hour. I had never tested my hack from my end; there was never any questioning I knew of regarding the late Lydia Goldstein. Of course, if there was, no mention of it would be on the news, wanting to keep me unsuspecting and… kill me where I stood, presently, under the canopy of the fuel station of Hudson McGee; that would probably necessitate his death as well. What was his story anyways?

“Do you stay kosher?” The G-man asked.

I gave him a confused look. “What is that?” He held my look a moment, then I shrugged. “Is this a recent requirement from the government? I am unaware of this requirement.”

He was clearly not amused. “No, more of the opposite. Never mind.” He returned as his machine beeped. “Why is it you are here miss Blake? You were to join a team in Seattle.”

My eyes became wide. “Ah, haven’t you seen what happened there? The entire city is a sea of glass now. Where am I supposed to go to work there? Radioactive and no people. Why I simply stopped then stayed here. Not much work in a city that has been razed to the ground.”

He held my gaze for several seconds then looked to Mister McGee. He said nothing to him though, only watching him for a moment, then he looked slowly around the area. “Why haven’t you moved to a centralized city?” He finally stated, to anyone.

Mister McGee smiled, it was a staged smile clearly. “We are a centralized city. Our structure and government are modeled after the formal models the Central Federal Divisions have mandated. We maintain this order and are ready in preparation for the great expansion Glorious Leader has promised. We remain diligently ready sir.” He responded.

The lead G-man eyed him with suspicion. Glorious Leader promised many things, delivered on scant few; the President of the Peoples, even worse. Supporting any of their many lies was something every citizen was expected to do, regardless of how improbable they were; a devout G-man would never cast doubt on a Glorious Leader or Peoples President promise. Though for these G-men coming from Central and the authority of the President of the Peoples, mentioning Glorious Leader, was not a favored thing, even though technically on his turf.

They looked around a bit for their inspection, and finding nothing, left. Mister McGee signaled me to keep quiet. They were gone, I don’t know why he was still acting like they were there. “We have passed inspection it seems, we have done well as servants of Glorious Leader.” He stated, smelling of bullshit. He gestured and I followed.

He led me to a field off property where sheep and chickens were, there he retrieved a chalkboard and chalk and wrote out some old characters that I barely remembered from my childhood. I was shocked he used them, considering what he had wrote.

“They have bugged the store and resort. Mostly audio, some video, we must be careful, they are suspicious of us both.”

No shit, I was already well aware of this. Next he erased the board, and wrote out instructions for me. Once I had read them, he washed the board and we parted ways, him going out into the woods. Before the G-men left, Hudson had tried to advise them to spend the night and charge up, since where they were heading, had no facilities for full electric vehicles. They refused.

Their bodies were recovered some two weeks later, having apparently been swept away down a river after their vehicles ran out of charge, leaving them stranded in the lows of the valley, right in the path of the floodwaters, a dam gave way, which carried them into the river going north and off to drown. Their shielded vehicles died in the worst possible place also. Curious though.

The government agents that came looking for them found them, thus leaving all locals out of suspicion. We confirmed they had visited us, and that they had left, which jived with the recordings they were able to recover; some were too damaged to view or restore. The best they had on us was we were good party members. We had no more problems from agents visiting us; we were left alone from then on, some 12 years ago now.

They came and removed their bugs on their own, and gave us a clean bill of political health and even increased our city funding as a future expansion city. Bullshit is good fertilizer Mister McGee often said.

Power for the city Mister McGee provided via two very large generators that were alcohol powered. His still was hidden, and in time I was allowed the privilege of visiting it, after being blindfolded. Now, I knew the exact path to it and tended it at times. Each of the tanks measured one thousand gallons. That would run the generators for a month, one was always running, and during the down time, maintenance was preformed. He really had the system down, just no customers in our war torn world.

“How long are we going to keep doing this? There are better locations we could move to, start over again with a general store, other people that run shops so we aren’t everything. Getting stretched a bit thin Hudson.” I said to him one Friday afternoon as we were getting ready to shut down for the night, early.

“Anything we do, we will do here. Micky insists on residing here. You know that, and she’s the money here so, here is where we stay.” Mister McGee replied.

Sighing I replied, “What is her love affair with this place?” I posed. I didn’t see anything here that would attract her based on my knowledge of the woman, which wasn’t much, she simply didn’t seem sentimental in the least and was the primary one to complain and suggest closing down.

“Where she was born, her family started out here. She wants to die here.”

Sounded good to me, her dying here that is. Didn’t fit with her demeanor. She sure didn’t love Hudson, and he merely tolerated her for the most part. “Uh-huh.” I shook my head. “So, what’s this annual trip she takes anyways. She talks about it, never says what it is, if I’m not being too bold.”

He scoffed. “Her annual pilgrimage; she hates this place, so once a year she abandons it, south to spend time with friends in tropical areas. Always around the time the lakes roll over.”

Now I had a moment of confusion. “I thought you just said she was the reason you stayed here, because she was born here, now you say she hates this place? Which one is it, why the lies?” I posed bluntly.

Hudson sighed and wagged his head some. “Yeah, right. Not lies. Complicated situation. My wife, needing something religious in her existence, after her religion expelled her, she got into cultism, witchcraft, stuff like that. Her family did when she was a little girl that is; because of this, she believes she has to live on the land her parents died on or are buried within to receive their blessing from the Seven Mothers. Witchcraft is allowed by the government so, that’s what she does now.”

I shrugged. “I don’t see how one religion is allowed while the other isn’t. Six of one, half dozen of the other as far as I’m concerned, banish them all, be done with it.”

Hudson snorted. “It’s because of the government’s hatred of Christianity and Judaism. Wicca, others, serve to destroy the concepts of and beliefs of these two, so they are allowed to supplicate the peoples need for something to believe in. They would rather false g-ds over no g-ds.”

“I’d be careful Mister McGee, talk like that might attract interest from government peoples.” I cautioned as I looked off and around.

“Are you planning on reporting me?” He posed.

I looked under the seat I was on, then to him. “Practicing caution sir.” I replied.

“Here we are clear, I have checked many times, and will continue to do so. I have other means in effect that keep our conversations private. It is a necessity.”

Yes, it was a necessity. I hoped he was as good as he kept claiming. “Are you saying we should start practicing their false religions?”

Mister McGee scoffed loudly. “Not on your life girl. No practicing anything. Let sleeping dogs lie. We have enough with Micky buzzing around right now. After she leaves, hopefully not having any excitement on her trip, we will begin a remodeling of the store.

This was something Hudson had been getting on big as of late, remodeling the store and resort; sort of making something that would attract people to visit the resort and the small town would be resort buildings. He had the vision of making the small town a historical place with reenactments of past events. Problem was, nothing actually happened around here. Anything worth reenacting, happened someplace else. We moved off and looked at other things.

“Baby Face Nelson… really? This happened where? When?” I questioned as I read what he wanted to do. “This was like… two, three hours south, and west. Has nothing to do with the Great Lakes and… ah, well, kind of boring to me.” I advised on his latest idea.

“The roaring 20’s, flapper girls, come on, you know some of history no?” Hudson asked.

Rocking my head as I looked at various sketches and pictures from the web. “Eh, not something I know much about. What’s with the chick being burned at the stake? Stockades? Showing your kinky side Mister McGee?” I riddled.

He scoffed hard with a head wag and giving me the eye version of the finger. “Salem witch hunts, a barely allowed historical event. And yes, young girls were put in stocks.”

Nodding I commented, “Ah, I see, your kinky side. Put the chicks in stocks so you can have your way with them; they’s already bent over, easy to have at ’em that way, right Mister McGee?” I said with mock indignation.

With a chuckle he replied, “Not very far off in some ways girly. Often the young girls put in this state, were subject to abuse by men and boys with nefarious intent during the night; especially if the girl is held in a remote area. Moonless night, repeated rape, leaving the girl to be discovered full of the devil’s juices in the morning and thus sentenced to death.” Mister McGee included in his dissertation.

“Devil’s juices? Semen, cum filled, that’s what you mean.” I commented blindly as the thoughts of this ran thru me head.

The sound that came from Mister McGee, was displeasing at best. “Correct, and young girls paid the price for their captors evil ways. Forcing the stomach to be filled to capacity with water then beaten, all to prove she wasn’t a witch. Drowning young girls, if they floated, proof they were a witch and then hung. Barbaric times made worse by even more barbaric men and their women.”

This brought forth another facet of Mister McGee, when he started talking like a professor instead of a shop keeper. He had a valid point though; much of our history wasn’t allowed to be spoken of anymore. Mister McGee was considerably older than I, and thus in more danger because he knew more actual history. “Why not tell the story of our present day governments’ rise to power. They’d approve that I’m certain.”

Now he scoffed. “I am not about to commemorate the worst things to happen.” And that ended our discussion of that topic.

I flipped some more pages. Again with a girl in stocks. This time, the wood was being piled around her as she was in the stocks. A bag had been placed over her head so she couldn’t curse the people that were watching her demise. This one denoted that this girl was the coven leader and could kill a man by looking at him. I snorted as I read the short line about the girl.

“Alison Barkley. Only girl to actually have used witchcraft and honestly convicted of Satan worship. She was beheaded before she was burned alive, so, not really burned alive; more so burned where she died. The story of her says she started calling in curses from the dark places of Suffering; many people developed sores on their skin, so, someone took a sword to her neck to stop the curses. Then her remains were burned, just to make sure. She was raped several times; the men that partook in savoring her plunder are said to have gone insane, except for Judson Maverick so the story says.” Mister McGee recited.

And that’s where he stopped, bastard. “Okay, continue please.” I edged on, he had this tendency on occasion, when he wanted to see if his audience was interested; by audience I mean myself, as, there wasn’t anyone else around. He seemed to have a bit of a showman in himself.

He gave me his ‘sour’ face, the one he usually gave me before he told me to educate myself by some means. “You know you could pick up one of those rectangular objects we have so many of laying around, you know, four to five inches wide, seven to ten inches high, not very thick, in or more, or less, they are called… oh, I remember, so old I know… they are called… BOOKS! Yes! Books, you can pick one, or more, up and do that thing… oh, it’s called… hrm… reading, yes, read a book!”

“Suck a dick.” My typical retort to such mocking.

“Never!” Mister McGee exclaimed as he raised his arm with an index finger pointed high into the sky. “For a modern man I am not, no dick sucking shall ever be done by one as pure as I. You though, female, you are allowed to suck dicks. Mine for instance, would be fine for you to suck, if Micky were dead perhaps. There are rules to life. Best learn them.” Then he wandered off.

He was loyal to McKenzie, for whatever insane reason. I’d pressed him on this issue once or twelve times. Only time I ever received anything that came close to a rational and honest answer, was when after I spoke, I got manhandled, hard. His grip on me twat, hard, firm, HARD! I lubricated instantly, to the point of soaking my own crotch to dripping, as he grasped the back of my head with his other hand and kissed me, hard also, tongue down to my navel I swear!

I have no idea how long the kiss lasted, or when it actually ended. I was stuck in time for a while after it ended; when I came back to reality, I had peed my pants and climaxed at least twice. That was some fucking kiss. I don’t even remember what snarky question I’d asked him.

Mister McGee wouldn’t tell me what I had said either; his reasoning, I’d thus repeat what I had said in hopes of a similar response from him. Damn straight! I wanted a repeat performance, while the first one was still happening. No boy had ever touched me the way Mister McGee had!

Now I strolled off to follow him with my thoughts on this revamp of our world. “Sir, I know you want to do something to get attention and draw people in, but why the entire town to do it? People are lazy, you’ve said so many times… why not one huge place, everything under one roof like the malls of the old world?” I rambled as I walked towards where he was standing looking at some prop he’d made or bought. “And people don’t want to learn while they shop.” I looked up from the papers in my hand, then at what Mister McGee was looking at. “What the fuck? Real stocks?”

“The point is Lydia, they won’t know they are being educated, that is the point. You might have a better idea though. People wouldn’t want to go outside once they are inside, single building with everything inside… might just be the way to go.” Mister McGee said as we both looked at the old and well used stocks in front of us now. “Yes, they are real, actually used in the time, real historical stocks. Wood is probably rotten though.”

I guffawed crassly. “Yeah, well, no way those would keep me; you could slide your wrists right out of those; not your head but still, get your hands out, open the thing.” The wrist holes were somewhat enlarged. I could have gotten out, just wasn’t willing to show off.

“You wouldn’t get out as quick as you think my dear. Those grips are a lot smaller than you realize. Care to see?” Hudson offered.

Raising my palms toward him I made an apprehensive face at him. “Ah, no thank you Mister McGee, you are not putting me in the stocks. I’m not some beaten down 14th century male dominated woman; I’d fight back; any man try to stick his dick in me, gonna find out this chick can fight back! And I would, I’d kick him in the nuts hard fast and repeatedly.”

Mister McGee chuckled hearing me go off. “Yes, most women of today say similar things, not realizing the full effects of being held in stocks; takes much fight out of even the toughest of men. Not only women were put in these, men were also. Very humbling experience.”

“Yeah, I bet, not an experience I’m going to willingly be put through, nor would I not fight back.” I asserted. “You want to hear what I think about your expansion of the store or you want to fantasize about me being in stocks some more?” I offered trying to change the subject. He looked at the stocks, then at me with an electric smile, slowly looking back to the stocks. “Okay, about the store and what to do to get people here, I’ll take that lead, there is nothing else around for miles. One huge mega store, put the city inside the store, no rain days.” I pushed.

“Get in the stocks, something I want to show you.” He countered.

“Fuck you.”

He smirked.

“Fuck you in the ass old man, I am not willingly getting in that stockade. Go fuck yourself.” I replied.

“What is this? Why are you trying to put your young assistant into this stockade? Are you trying to fuck her Hudson?” McKenzie’s voice proclaimed.

Fuck, the last person I wanted to hear, or see. The bride of Frankenstein returns. I didn’t glorify her with any retort, simply walking off; any conversation involving her, was a cause for suicide.

“No Micky, no one is trying to fuck anyone, least of all me.” Hudson replied to his wife. “This is a historical piece, actually came from the days of the Salem witch hunts and trials. It’s old, and fragile, not for use in other words. This is a museum piece.”

“Why am I spending money on this crap? No one is going to come to your museum; the government surely isn’t going to fund this derangement of yours. I’m going to ask when we are in (redacted).” McKenzie announced. She was a party member and made mention of that fact whenever she could, as though it meant something out here in the bushlands of the north American preserve.

“Not building a museum Micky, a store built around historical events.” He sighed hard now, even he was having trouble keeping this dream alive. Like me, he was simply bored and wanted to rage against the darkness. “Just something to make us different from everyone else.” He finished then wandered off in a direction McKenzie wasn’t.

“I want you to stop all this foolishness Hudson, are you listening to me?” McKenzie continued as she trailed after Mister McGee while he tried to escape her.

Me, I wandered off in another direction lost in thought; Micky made a few good points as she insulted everything we did; some of the things I said fit in this mess well also; problems were easy to define, solving them or working around them, was a bit harder.

--- Watermelon Brain ---

Another year had passed. Hudson and I were reworking out designs for the new complex we’d designed together. Oddly, our government supported his ideas and sent in addition to unexpected funding, a crew to help construct part of the structure. Enough to get us started they claimed. We were mostly just talking, no solid ideas, it was smack talk, then workers showed up so now we have a building.

“We don’t need that much in offices Mister, seriously. To take up space, make this corner part of the theater, make that huge; would eat up a lot of space fast and we can say it was designed to be usable for live action plays too.” I was saying on our present issue, not enough stuff to fill in the spaces we needed to have filled.

“And just what would we say this extra space is for? Closet space for costumes we don’t have?” He argued back. He had a point.

And I had a solution. “Dressing rooms. Big stars want special areas. Government is pushing these productions on being a good citizen, their people presenting are ego at large.”

Now Mister McGee was nodding. My arguments made sense to him, they should, I was using his logic. He really had rubbed off on me. Then there was this new sexual tension between us. It was more than the moment of the kiss, and his firm grip on the girl part of me.

Oh man I longed to feel his grip firmly on me twat again. This man knew how to touch a girl in a firm manner when she needed to be grabbed in a firm manner. I could use that firm grip right now. I was staring at his hands, wishing his left mitt was grasping my flooded juicy spot. I shook my head. “Huh? What? Sorry, mind wandered, what were you saying?”

Now he was looking at me with that bewildered look I hated, because it meant I had really mixed up. “Nothing, I farted.”

Okay, this has happened before, he breaks wind, and I think he said something. Mister McGee told me many times not to cover when me mind went for a stroll, just to admit it and recover. “Sorry, mental stroll again.” He nodded now, he was right, if I just admitted it, he let it slide right past. “If this is… what, stage one of… how many? I haven’t clue one of how many stages they were talking about. You got any idea fuck nut?” I blabbered, just letting my mouth run. He usually accepted me as is.

“Reel that potty mouth in else I’ll help you with it.” I did say ‘usually’, this was not a usually time I guess. “Government operation; step one, set a base, step two, expand and cover inset area; step three, finish what you started. That is a government operation in a nut shell under Glorious Leader.” He concluded.

I looked at what had already been built, recently. If this huge monstrosity was the ‘base’ part of the operation, as in below us, would be the ‘base’, military style with alternate access (City Guard), that would mean two more steps and based on government typical means of operation, holy shit… “They are going to cover the entire city aren’t they?” My head finally caught up to its environment; base, on top, cover the whole darn place.

“Bout time you let your watermelon ripen. Yeah, cellular living compounds.” Mister McGee began. “More convenient means of supporting communal living communities.” He looked off across the small town that sank before us as we looked out from this new structure. “Everyone under an enviro-shield, perfect living conditions, gardens for food and air in our poisoned world. Yeah, their utopia; people easy to control because they control your supplies.” Hudson paused and looked around the yard area with his hands on his hips and a bitter expression on his face. “Call someplace paradise, kiss it goodbye.” He retorted, then strode off.

I was going to follow after him, then said ‘fuck it’ to myself, then after about half an hour, more like 5 to 7 minutes in reality, I began walking in the direction Mister McGee had headed.

“I’ve had it Hudson, this fascination of yours with this place. When I am elected coven leader, I can change things for myself, then we are moving from this hell hole.” McKenzie’s voice was saying. I held back.

“I’m Mayor of Split Rock. With what Lydia and I are planning, this hell hole will be a retailers wet dream. We will be a Centralized shopping and supply area.” Mister McGee was arguing back. He motioned to where the main structure had been built. “Even the government is backing our idea. Can’t get any better than that Micky; and they’ll build out from there, you know how the government does things now, right?”

Clearly she was unimpressed as she stomped around more. “Not for long, Mayor, as coven leader, I carry more authority than you do, because I lead an entire coven! And as you well know, in this governmental District, the coven leader is the Regional Manager. Then I can correct the mistake my parents made by binding us to this place!” She motioned around here, there, indicating everything Mister McGee and I had built. “And this abomination, is history! This place is done as soon as I am elected Coven Lead Magistrate. You have two weeks, enjoy it bitch boy!” McKenzie concluded then stormed off in her victory over Mister McGee.

Once the sounds of the Bride of Frankenstein ended, and I was certain she had returned to her lair, I prepared to move away from the scene.

“You can come out Lydia, she is gone. Speak girl.” Mister McGee said clearly.

Busted! Sort of, not really, I had as much right to be there as his wife, more reason actually. I worked. Slowly I sauntered forward to where Hudson was; at least I tried to make it a saunter. “What a cunt.”

“That’s an understatement. Two weeks and she leaves for her coven meeting, convention, whatever. Wish she’d never return.” He muttered. After a long moment he stopped messing with whatever was in his hands and looked up with a bit of a thoughtful face. “Well, died on the road. If she merely vanished… shit, I’d be in a worse boat, having to wait the time out, under her families threshing fork. Killed in a natural disaster. That would be the best.” He theorized, then moved on casually.

For this moment, I held steady and said nothing.

“I like your ideas. Build a model of it. Let’s see what we can work out. Entire town… we can have an amusement park like you wanted, right in the center, where the current town hall is.” Hudson commented.

Walking up to the large table we had sketches of ideas and buildings at I started looking at it and plotting a model. “Yeah, I can do that. Design the village to use electric golf cart type transportation… everything is inside…” I was lost in pondering as I stared at the mostly empty table.

I felt the room return to me; I’d been on one of me time trips again. How long had I jumped time this time? I looked at the clock on the wall, small problem, no starting point, no day reference from before the moment of time loss. I simply faded into it. Could have been 20 minutes, could have been two hours and twenty minutes, or a day and the same. One thing I knew, I was alone here, Mister McGee was long gone. I looked at my crotch, it was dry, no piss smell, so it wasn’t long enough that I had wet myself, nor long enough that I wet myself, it dried and made me cunt rotten. I moved on from there so I wouldn’t jump time again.

“Awe shit.”

Madison Patterson, someone I’d rather not speak to, now or ever. She was outside with her white Cadillac truck. Her husband ran a sheep ranch, for the government of course, he was good with sheep. She felt this made her queen of the area since her family was hand picked by the government for this important task. Her husband had a different view, he was fucking ecstatic to be running a farm away from the city and its fraudulent people and ways.

“Well, I am sure you will excel Micky, we all are supporting you! We need our central control here, with you my dear. Do not get down, victorious you will be, trust me Micky, I know things, I really do.” Madison was saying.

Right, like voting mattered in any means; whatever the government wanted as an outcome, was the outcome. Always confirmed by the vote, which always rolled with the government’s view and opinion. It was like a hand of each of the 62 allowed g-ds was on the government at all votes and times. Amazing, simply amazing, what are the odds?

“Why there she is, sad sack in the flesh. You remember Madison, Patterson, regional advocate for the people Lydia?” McKenzie said at me.

“Yes McKenzie, I remember who the wicked witch of the west is.” I retorted as I paused and looked around the sky, pointing to the sky before the comments started, causing both McKenzie and Madison to pause and look. “Looks like a storm is coming Madison, may want to get inside so a house doesn’t fall on you, like what happened to your sister from the east.” Then I moved along my way as they scoffed between themselves.

“Mind yourself bitch!” McKenzie bellowed. “Madison is attending the coven convention this year with me! She is the envoy for our Regional Manager, you will show the proper respect!”

I flipped her the bird.

“Guard!” Madison screamed, intending her personal guard attack myself.

“Yes miss?” The man said politely.

“Deal with this person.” She demanded.

He smiled quaintly. “What would you like me to do miss?”

Madison looked ready to spit. “Arrest her, beat her, kill her, pick one, I don’t care, just don’t stand there!”

The guard looked at me, then back to Madison, then returned to me, came to attention, saluted, then relaxed as he looked at Madison and shrugged.

“What the fuck…?” She stammered.

“What do you expect me to do miss? She outranks me.” He returned.

I looked at my collar. “Oh, yeah, the corporal thing, yeah.”

That pretty much ended things, and I walked on ignoring McKenzie and Madison. Nobody messed with me after that. Best $2.50 I ever spent.

“You best hope she never checks on that Doll Face.” Mister McGee stated from somewhere as I hid out.

“Fuck me Hudson, why haven’t you dealt with that cunt bluntly by now, seriously.” I blurted out.

“First, as long as Micky is alive, no fucky fucky for you from me, you should know this by now Doll Face. Second, Micky is not my responsibility, that belongs to someone else as I am a male; her number would have to reside in the hands of another female. Thems the rules, you know this Lydia.” He stated as I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

“You know Mister…” And… he was gone. “Fuck!”

“Oh how I wish I could. Fix that for me wonder twat.” Mister McGee’s voice said from some direction that was hidden in the variable echo of the land, one of the barns.

“Fix the records so everything’s real Dude Face!” I bellowed out.

“Shut your hole cunt!” Came back.

Yeah, probably good advice, McKenzie was an idiot, she wasn’t stupid.

“Yeah, shut your hole cunt!” Speak of McKenzie, and she appears.

I started to push by her, but she grabbed me. This almost ended here. I was about to end it, then the gun the guard had was put in my face, thus, I held still.

“I did check already, and you are no corporal. That means, summary execution for you; fake records. Anything to say?” She asked as I was restrained.

Fuck. “Suck a dick whore bag, cum dumpster, sack of shit.” Best I could come up with at the moment. Then I tried my escape plan, which started with a kick to her face. That part went well, kick her in the face I did; unfortunately, she had nothing to do with restraining me, those that did, hurt me badly. I almost ended right there for trying to escape, but McKenzie wanted to do things by the book.

“Give me her index finger, right one, she is a party member. Let’s verify her identity then execute her for impersonation of a party soldier.” She ordered.

My finger was uncurled from my fist. I fought to keep it from being laid flat, and that failed. I heard the reader bleep, it had my imprint and sync. I was done for now… there were the three tones, my sentence was in.

“Mag Sargent? What the fuck?” McKenzie blurted out. “She’s a fucking Mag Sargent!” Madison’s people moved back from me.

“Release me, now!” I screamed. Seconds later, my hands and feet were freed.

Standing, I remained angered, huffing at McKenzie as I brushed myself off as I closed on her, stopping centimeters from her reddening face.

“Mag Sargent, I’m… sorry Sargent, I was never told you were here!” McKenzie stammered.

“Let it go Lydia.” Mister McGee said as he strolled past, hands casually clasped behind his back. “She works for the Mayor.” He looked to me. “Come with me please.” And that was the end of that as I joined Mister McGee.

The door to another room, one I had yet to be in, which was now commonplace, closed behind us.

“Thank you Mister McGee. I know I ran my mouth and I shouldn’t have. Thanks for covering me ass again sir.” And I meant every word I said to him; I knew it was him.

“And that right there girly, is why you remain. McKenzie would never show me the slightest respect.” Mister McGee stated bluntly. “And you always own your mistakes.” He turned and motioned to a model of the city, a copy of the one I was working on, mostly. “Alright, about this model…” and we moved on.

After I explained my thoughts on the way we should design our ‘city’ as more of a retail mecca over what the government actually wanted, Mister McGee was in very good spirits; so much so even McKenzie and her friends couldn’t bring him down. Their comments found no place to rest on him as he navigated by them and the Bride of Frankenstein’s monster.

“Where are you two going? I have friends here, important friends, you should be attending me Hudson, where are you going?” McKenzie cried after us as Hudson breezed past her, scantly acknowledging her.

“I recommend a lemonade douche dear, good day.” Hudson commented to her as he passed close by her. This caused her to stammer long enough he was able to move out of range without need of any further reply.

Briefly I pondered where he came up with the thought of a lemonade douche, quickly dismissing it considering what was available on the old internet, which the government couldn’t stop the access of for some reason. Would Mister McGee actually view content of the old web? Doubtful honestly.

We moved downstairs, thru a hidden doorway that I used often, McKenzie did not know of this doorway, nuff said, and into the workshop that Mister McGee kept. There was a new addition in the wood shop.

“Really, a stockade of your very own.” I commented as I walked up to it. “This one looks new, smells new; guess you couldn’t use the real one from the days of Salem could you. Planning on putting McKenzie in this, flogging her a bit maybe?” I stopped short of saying anything relating to fucking her.

Hudson smirked at this mention. “Ah, heh, yeah. She’d probably enjoy it though. No, she wouldn’t. Anyways, no, this is for the reenactment; and you are right, we can’t use the real one for that; that is going in the museum at some point.” He moved over by the stockade and opened it and nodded at it. “Go on, try it out, tell me what you think.”

His smile became… not like him I’ll say. Dark, powerful. Not evil, or mean, nothing like that; dominating, yes, very much so. Like your master.

I shook myself. “Ah, no chance in hell. And if you tried anything like what was done to the girls of the witch hunts, no way you’d find me passive. I’d kick your nuts in, you’d regret trying to rape me boy. I’d hurt ya.” I affirmed; and I would’ve too. Women of that day were expected to take what was dished out to them; a modern woman was different, we fought back, we did not remain silent because we were expected to do so.

Looking at the stocks, Mister McGee smiled, not in a mean manner, just thoughtfully. “Ah, yes, one thinks they would, and I am sure many of the young girls of that day thought the same thing, acted out against those that held them wrongly in contempt. In the end though, your captors hold you as they want; they do to you what they will.”

My eyes returned to the stocks. I knew what he was speaking of; I myself had felt the sting of such treatment, people doing what they willed to you. I swore I’d never allow myself to be in such a position again. “Why did they burn them?” I needed a topic change.

“Because of their religious beliefs. They believed witches stole peoples souls, made contracts with the devil for a person’s soul. They thought by killing these people, they kept themselves from temptation and attack by the dark one. Fire was the tool of the devil they believed.” Mister McGee said. “They had tests, that virtually guaranteed a guilty verdict for any girl they chose.”

Like the afore mentioned filling the belly with water then seeing if the girl floated. Only witches floated, and fat girls, or air filled girls. You know the cure for hysteria was a hysterectomy? The cause of hysteria was girly parts. Remove the girly parts, cure the hysteria. Vomit. But that’s the history of modern psychiatry and medicine. Mister McGee’s point was blatantly clear to me. And this is what Madison and McKenzie were part of, because this made them victims of the old system and being now the leaders in place of their persecutors is somehow their vindication!

Fucking idiots is what they were. It was all a game simply to justify what they did in the end, nothing more. “So, this doesn’t mean squat now then anyways, what are we going to do about the store, city, town thing if McKenzie is going to kill it as soon as she comes to power? Why bother if the queen bee is against us? Might as well just wait and move. We don’t need another dry run, heavy on the dry.” I offered.

“You talk like you think McKenzie has clue one as to what she’s doing, or whats-her-tits that’s with her all the time.” Hudson remarked.

“Whats-her-tits, you mean Madison by chance? Surprised she was allowed to get the boob job she has. Wasn’t necessary that’s for sure.” I replied bluntly.

He sighed. “I was trying not to speak its name.” He revealed. It was more of our humor in the end. “This year the swamp creature will be attending with her. They always pick this time of year, she hates the spring, if her little gathering had any value or clout, she’d go the entire week prior and take in the party conference, but they don’t have any real status as witches.”

With a snort I replied, “You’d think with the storms she’s ended up in, she’d hold off and not fight the weather every year. One of these years, she’s… going to have ah, bad luck.” I had to stop and not say what I was thinking, for two reasons; the first being, it may happen, the second being, I wanted it to happen.

“Yeah. Wishful thinking is just that, wishful thinking.” Mister McGee quipped. “Even if she gets her victory, which sadly, she probably will, it is a bit of a process that she hasn’t considered even in a trifled means. She is forgetting our government is supporting this; thus, they have already acted and she would then have to convince them to change their minds, not an easy task to begin with.

“Even if she does become coven leader and regional manager, she will have to file formal paperwork with explanations, reasons, supporting documentation, all in hopes of actually getting a review then a hearing. That alone will not be for a year as, when she is elected, she will not be installed and thus in authority for three weeks; during this time, the annual reviewing board accepts submissions.

“By the time she is in office as Regional Manager, this filing time will have closed and she is shit out-a luck Doll Face. After that, it will be a good year before she could even hope to get a review; as an existing project and approved, this will fall on lower priority. So we have two years to make this happen.” He explained.

This was an approved government project, didn’t keep that in my reasoning. Realizing this, I kicked me brain into gear. “If she… is elected… then that would put her higher on the party chain and as regional manager, she would be attending the party convention. We’d get an extra week without her.” Me brain worked out.

“Two weeks, an extra two weeks without her. After the party convention, she would then attend the regional delegates symposium after her coven convention.” Hudson sighed hard and his face wilted. “The downside of all this, with her higher position, she is going to be having a lot of government officials around, as many as she can and keep them as long as she can. She’s scheming something, and thought out well, it will not be.”

I gave a short snort at hearing this. “What would she be scheming? No way she’d make it into federal ranks. That leaves what? Shutting us down, moving, and trying for more power.”

“Acquisition, property, business, before the war of nations started, and the current governments arose from the ashes, her family was very big in the shipping market. She used to attend the finest events Duluth had to offer; ate in the best restaurants, enjoyed the company of dignitaries, and high fa-looting businessmen and entertainers. Her brother holds office in Central Command’s Department of Manufacturing, she is scheming with her brother to regain their parents empire.” Hudson replied.

“But all business belongs to the government, the people they say but… yeah, the government, operators only, well, run the place.”

“Operators usually climb the party ladder; she isn’t going to go up, her brother though, if she takes over operations of any shipping rights, that puts him in the limelight. He gains power, brings his sister along. She gets to be back in the high-life again. Despite her many shortcomings and idiocies, when it comes to running a business, she is exceptional. Not honest, just good at making money and people suffer.”

Mulling what my master had just said in me head, I returned to looking at the stockade. “So… just what is this reenactment stuff, educational stuff, entertainment stuff, going to be anyways? How does it work into a shoppers mecca?”

“That’s what I turned over to you. Why do you think I am having you put a model together? To figure this out and how to make it work; your ideas, my ideas, put them together.” He offered.

Put them together he says. Hell, I’m not even sure what I’m building! “Okay, the stocks, reenactments, a museum and historical stuff all over the place, the amusement park, rides, that will take up space.” I looked to Mister McGee with question on my face. “You really think the government will go for an amusement park in a shopping and retail mecca community? Yeah, centralized living, but, how are we going to justify educational and entertainment? G-men will say ‘not needed’ and leave it there.

“Then we have to redesign the entire thing into their market place.” I sighed hard myself now. “We don’t produce much around here, mining is shut down, trucking runs to Duluth.” I sighed again as me heart sank some. “It’s a great idea, and me believe it would do great; problem is, the governments won’t see it the way we do, they see no need for historical education, amusement parks and rides, street performers? This will be the hard sells of hard sells.”

With a grunt Mister McGee offered, “Strike while the iron is hot. Everything you said, from a surface view, is accurate. Deductive reasoning dear girl. Our world is still rebuilding. Most satellites are destroyed, falling back to earth or simply burnt out from solar activity. The governments are trying to rebuild under a new order and everyone has been under the stress from, well, everything. Centralized living compounds so they can keep track of everyone, maintain authority and control.

“Much of the population has moved this way, had to if they wanted modern conveniences. With no cellular phones and much of the power grid not surviving, they can’t effectively use the tracking chips they could be putting in people outside of the complexes. All this creates a need for the new city populace to have a place to relax, escape their trapped existence. Our government is already feeling the stress of the people; they need to do something to help cool things down more, else, this all blows up again.”

Me head started its nodding now. “And with shipping networks blown apart, interstate roads destroyed all over, having one centralized shopping location for all stuff not in peoples area for them to buy from and ship from since we didn’t get hit hard in Minnesota…” My head stopped. “Okay, don’t get it. Thought I did, but, coming up short. Shopping mecca, history and recreation, all in one place. How do we sell this as a good thing for the governments to support? We’re in northern Minnesota, on Lake Superior, no advantage, remote.” Now I shook my head as me heart sank more. “They won’t go for it master, I can’t see it. Show me what I am missing.”

When me eyes returned to Mister McGee, he was smiling exceptionally large. This was the second time I’d ever seen this smile on his face; the first was many years ago now, and seeing it, brought back a fond memory; I’d done good and impressed the man.

Mister McGee went over to a desk or table and picked up newspaper clippings he’d saved. He placed them in front of me. “Read these. Put that deductive reasoning you need to work on to work girly.”

I followed my orders and began reading. The first article was about how the tensions between the Peoples Republic of America and the Russian province of Canada had eased to the point, shipping was returning to the Great Lakes. This ease of hostility interestingly coincided with the completion of repairs to several locks on the chain of lakes that had once been a major shipping lane. The next article was about block fights breaking out in living compounds, destruction of hydroponic systems, release of animals and even some riots, which were block fights, only bigger basically.

The final article was about the issues of supply as many areas had surplus of one thing that others were lacking; and the inverse was true, that the lacking compound had abundance of other things. Part of the problem was that it wasn’t a simple exchange between the two locations, as, one didn’t need anything from the other and had similar surplus.

Due to the destruction of much of the coastal states on both ends of the nation, survivors moved towards the middle more, away from radiation, toxic gasses and other war remains. Now, I would be expected to reason out me master’s path of thought, including the rabbit trails.

Shuffling between the articles, looking at a picture or two, I started sifting through what I knew, what was going on, everywhere, what we were planning, yeah, I 42’d it hard; life the universe and everything. Mister McGee stood patiently and waited me out. This was another of his exercises in critical thinking.

Me eyes wandered over the article about shipping returning to the Great Lakes; this caused McKenzie to filter into me brain. Wish there was such a thing as brain wash, in a bottle, to remove unwanted thoughts. Her family had been big in shipping… she had to play into this somehow, master did mention she wanted to obtain operation rights from the government for her own shipping lane. However, she wanted this place razed to dust… rabbit trail.

The one about the riots and people getting uppity, was clearly the point master made on peoples need to be able to travel and relax. That one is a gimme. As to everyone living in inland areas now, away from the coasts, still put us out in the toolies. Why here? What was his logic on that fiasco? We were basically, north of everyone. “Map, current, I need a map.”

Mister McGee pointed to the table the articles had been on, I went, there was a current map, go figure. Opening the map I noticed, it wasn’t just a road and travel map, it was a government issued map, for government offices only. I wouldn’t ask.

In addition to displaying passable and impassable routes, it showed the locations of all centralized living compounds and cities with population. Some of the remaining and serviceable electric lines were displayed. For about 10 minutes, I surveyed everything on the map with what I knew in mind and worked me master’s logic paradigms.

“What’s wrong with the train?” Mister McGee’s question breezed through me brain.

’Drivin’ that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones you’d better watch your speed…’ Nope, not that train song, the other one. Me brain sometimes.

Why he figured I ‘needed some learnin’ on critical thinking’, not a clue; at first, I merely played along, figuring I’d humor the old guy. After a while though… He challenged me one time, said I was lacking and wanting, a bit of a dim bulb when it came to reasoning things out without needing to be told everything. He’d commented once after I asked him to explain what he meant, “What are you, an apostle of the Christ or what?” What’s that was supposed to mean? Not a clue, nor a care at first.

What’s wrong with the train, this question comes from an ancient band known as The Grateful Dead, a singer named Jerry Garcia and the mind of Hudson McGee. It has nothing to do with a switchman sleeping, and that train hundred and two, is on the wrong track and headed for you.

There is nothing wrong with either of these trains, and the fireman screams, because he sees the other locomotive charging towards them, not much to think out in those lyrics outside of, don’t do drugs? Even if Casey wasn’t high on cocaine, he still would have died, two locomotives do not pass each other on the same track. As Mister McGee would say, and I picked it up from him, ‘Nuff Said’.

This comes from a much later album, as Mister McGee educated me on, called ‘In The Dark’. To say Hudson McGee is a bit old school, would be an understatement. He has a Marconi radio, tube type, works even. No radio stations though, nuclear fallout still. The song is titled ‘Tons of Steel’ and is a story, song, about a man whom operates a train, something Mister McGee has a fascination of sorts about, trains, on a stretch of track he has traveled many times as he says, ‘I know these rails we’re on, like I know my lady’s smile.’ This is supported by the next statement of ‘Re-see a dozen dreams in every passing mile.’

If you listen to the song, Jerry sings about many things relating to the train, that they are going down a grade, her brakes don’t work, that this locomotive is temperamental, to the point of calling it a bitch rather than a machine and comparing her to a roller coaster. ‘These wheels are bound to jump the tracks before they burn the ties.’ Jerry sings everything you need to know to figure out what is wrong with the train; I’ll give you one hint, it isn’t the brakes.

You should try, see if you can figure it out; I’m not telling you, Mister McGee wouldn’t tell me, so I won’t tell you. Tons of Steel by the Grateful Dead, I’m sure you won’t have to listen to it the way I did, on an Old School phonograph record, LP, 33 1/3 RPM, yeah. Mister McGee says vinyl sounds better. I think I agree.

So that’s where I was at as I surveyed the maps, articles and pictures, with the question of what is wrong with this train in my mind. How does McKenzie fit, shipping lanes, supply chains, the universe and everything. Outside of worker bee, how do I fit in this? I don’t.

“Want a snort? When your done that is.” Mister McGee asked me.

Me mind was moving into detail mode. “Yeah, yes.”

Mister McGee started to stroll off. “Meet me in the gazebo. Breaking out the good stuff, make it worth it… please.”

When I failed to respond, he picked up his pace and moved out. I was actually unaware of this as I was in a time jump at the moment, but I knew how Mister McGee acted, and had seen this many times so I knew he knew I was in a jump, and he left me there. I think Mister McGee has his own time jumps.

Shipping was returning to the Lakes, Duluth was the harbor city, we had nothing. Roadways, destinations, routes and paths. What is wrong with the train… rumors fly fast, and she wasn’t built to travel that fast, was she? The central part of the nation, was largely either farming areas still, or where the prison compounds were for war prisoners. Travel was highly restricted thru these areas. Parts of the south were impassable due to radiation and other issues. The southern border, secure now. If you tried to cross from old Mexico, you wouldn’t be able to get within a thousand meters of the actual border before you died. The room returned to me; this time, it was only 28 minutes; I’d solved the riddle.

My master was sitting in the gazebo, feet kicked out, and the large pipe I favored in the stand, and loaded, the good stuff, yeah. I’d make it worth it, he’d see, I hoped. I was mostly certain I had worked this through correctly; and if I didn’t, my master would correct me.

“Hey there Doll Face, should I hand you this or you need more time?” He asked.

Normally, I’d gild the lily a bit, make some pomp and prestidigitation leading up to my revelations of logic, reason and just being a smart girl. I was working on this, as, sometimes, usually, it bit me in the ass. This would be new for Mister McGee, he would be expecting some dissertation on my thought process. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure, nor the ammo.

Reaching out, I picked up the pipe, yes, the cannabis was premium stuff, I could smell it as I walked up to the gazebo, a hundred yards back. Looking to him, I gave him my award winning smile, yarp, creeped everyone out. Except Mister McGee. Grabbing the lit candle he had for smoking the buds, I hit the pipe with… like a locomotive!

Me lungs were filled to capacity, I laid my head back and relaxed me body, holding my hit long and hard, letting the cannabis work its magic. When my body was about to explode and I could no longer hold me hit, I righted myself towards Mister McGee standing near attention, like.

“It’s all about the shipping lanes.” I began, talking to release my hit. “Southern and central areas, restricted or impassable, everything comes across the northern border, and down, forms a big L and we’re right at the corner. Everything goes thru us. Shipping, steel, taconite, all the heavy stuff coming into Duluth, takes time to truck, we’re close for storage. The big government and political people will want this for themselves, not the people, the amusement park I…” I had to stop, out of air and I pushed it as long as I could. “mean. They will all want to come here, shop for their factories and stores, that’s what you are building more so than a shopping mecca, which it will be also, but the big shots are your goal. Central distribution and resource storage.” I handed the pipe to Mister McGee.

“Take another.” He said as he gestured at the pipe. “You’ve earned it.”

And I did just that, after sitting down to better enjoy my reward, now that I knew I’d done good. There was a glint in his eyes I rather liked when he looked at me as I recited my assessment of things. Slowly after a few minutes, I released my hit as I anticipated the next question was about to come. I looked to me Master.

“What else is wrong with the train?”

I wasn’t quite expecting that, but, it worked. “Nothing. McKenzie is irrelevant. Her brother is the key. He’s in the manufacturing division, this would make him a big shot when it works, and it will. Na, she’s toast, he’ll support this. She’s only his sister, this is his career.”

“Spot on Doll Face.”

Staring at my Master, another revelation came to me brain. “You are manipulating things, aren’t you? Causing things to happen, your way.”

A smile broke onto his face, not a toothy one, a satisfied smile. “Of course. Why you are here.”

That hit me brain and stunned me a moment, long enough for Mister McGee to rise and leave me.