Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

I unfolded my cloak. The fabric was stiff, like one of those space blankets they sold in sporting goods stores, but instead of having a silver side, both sides were a dark green. “Sergeant, what are these for?”

“Drones,” said Meyers.

“Even the most basic Predator drone has a full night vision and infrared surveillance package. We want to keep these positions and the positions of individual soldiers on patrol hidden from the Fed,” said Sergeant Ribbon.

“Speaking of the Fed,” said Sergeant Meyers. “Everybody take out your Rules Of Engagement card. Standing orders. Every soldier will keep this ROE card on his person whenever on duty.” He held the laminated card up and pointed to the bold letters written across the top. “This here is the number one thing to remember. Your primary mission is to protect the state of Idaho by preventing the unauthorized entry of armed soldiers or law enforcement personnel. Does everyone understand that? Sparrow, that means that no matter how handsome you think some Fed soldier is, you cannot let him enter the state.”

Meyers laughed, but Sparrow acted like she’d barely heard him. “Yes, Sergeant,” she said coolly.

Meyers continued. “Let’s go through the steps of graduated force. It’s simple. All you have to do is remember the four S ’s.” He went on to explain, in as lengthy and crude a way as possible, what took me about thirty seconds to read.

“Any questions?” Sergeant Meyers said when he finally finished reading the ROE card.

“Kick-ass,” Specialist Stein said. “The Fed better not come anywhere around here!”

Everybody in bravo team except for Sergeant Ribbon laughed. Luchen thought it was funny too until Sparrow elbowed him. I caught Sergeant Kemp’s eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing I was. We were all hoping this situation would remain peaceful. That was looking less and less likely all the time.

—• Mr. President, can you confirm reports of a firefight in northern Idaho between federal soldiers and members of the Idaho National Guard?”

“I’ve addressed this issue several times already. There was no firefight. It is true that US soldiers were conducting movement in northeast Washington, but the explosion that occurred on the Idaho border was an ill-advised and deliberate effort of the Idaho National Guard to bring down trees. Despite whatever rumors you may have heard, the explosion was absolutely not the result of any armed conflict or missiles fired from Predator surveillance drones operating in the area. In accordance with the Safe Skies Act of 2017, there are absolutely no armed aerial drones operating in US airspace.”

“Hart Wibley, CNN. Mr. President, why were federal soldiers on maneuvers in northeast Washington in the first place?”

“I’m afraid the answer to that question is classified.”

“Is this a preparation for an armed mission into Idaho?”

“I’m not going to answer that, Hart. That’s what classified means.”

“Nikki Aberall, Fox News. Mr. President, how do you respond to Senate Majority Leader Griffith’s criticism that you are being too lenient with the Idaho crisis? Is this a sign of a larger split in your party?”

“I spoke at length with Senator Griffith this morning. I certainly understand her sense of urgency in resolving this situation. However, I think she misunderstands the delicate nature of what we’re dealing with here. Yes, this standoff cannot be allowed to continue forever, but it’s important to remember these are Americans we’re talking about in Idaho. We cannot simply charge in there, guns blazing. I want to assure you and the American people that I am working constantly toward a peaceful resolution to this situation. However, if necessary, in order to make sure Idaho is in compliance with federal law, no option is off the table, including the use of force. •—

On Monday morning, everybody was talking about either the football game or the awesome things they’d done over the weekend. Randy, Brad, and Brad’s girlfriend, Crystal Bean, walked by. They stopped. “Wright, did you have a good drill?” Brad asked.

I could have told him about the explosives or about how I’d spent all the rest of the weekend helping to build Fortress Idaho. I could have told him about Lieutenant McFee. But I didn’t want to talk about any of it. “A boring training exercise.”

“That sucks you couldn’t make the game. We took Grangeville down , bro!”

Randy pulled both hands to his chest like he was snatching a football out of the air. “TJ had this great catch. You should have seen it.”

“That’s great.” I made myself look really impressed so I wouldn’t seem jealous. The three of them went off and were lost in the morning crowd in the hallway.

I bit my lip. The problem was that I was jealous. Not of TJ — I could handle that idiot. I was jealous of the other guys who had fun beating the snot out of Grangeville at the game, and then afterward making it with their girlfriends instead of being stuck out in the woods. I was jealous of everybody in this whole damned school whose biggest concerns were homework and sports and parties and having fun, while I was trapped in the middle of the so-called Idaho Crisis.

I started walking toward Mr. Shiratori’s class. Becca popped out of the crowd and laid her hand on my upper arm. “You okay? I know you have to be down after missing the game. And JoBell said you had to set off some freaky big explosion?”

“JoBell worries too much and then exaggerates,” I said. “It was a big boom, but not freaky.”

“Oh” — she shrugged and elbowed me — “you just blew up a forest to bring down all the trees. No big deal. You’re crazy, Danny. And you know, we all worry about you. Me especially.”

“Well, don’t. There’s nothing to worry about. Drill’s over. Things will start to calm down soon.”

JoBell came around the corner and started walking alongside us. She took my hand in hers. “Becca! There you are. I’ve been thinking. We need to get to some of these real protests like the ones they’re having in New York or San Francisco. The little local rallies are pathetic. Maybe we could road-trip to Seattle for the big demonstrations there.”

Becca put her arm around JoBell. “Gas costs a fortune.”

“I know. But I feel so helpless, so disconnected from the people who are trying to end this crisis. And it’s important, you know. I want to do something about it.”

“So study hard,” Becca said. “Become a lawyer like you always said you would.”

“I will,” said JoBell. “And when I’m a lawyer, I’m going to specialize in bringing scumbags like the Butchers of Boise to justice.”

I hurried us along to class without saying anything else.

That Wednesday, I was in Mr. Cretis’s advanced woods class. The shop was in the back of the school next to the weight room, facing the football field. Not many people made it through the first two classes to take the advanced level. Today there was just me on the belt sander, Dylan Burns over on the drill press, a junior named Chase Draper who never seemed to be able to measure stuff right, and Cal, who was down the hall taking his usual third-hour bathroom break.