Orson Card - Empire

“Route 12 comes across the border at Clarkston, Washington,” said Arty. “Lewiston, Idaho, and Clarkston, Washington. Lewis and Clark. I feel like I’m in grade school again. We did a pageant about Lewis and Clark.”

“What did you play, Sacajawea?” asked Cat.

“And we’re headed for Lewis County,” said Arty. “It’s like a tour of American history.”

“There’s a road comes in just north of the river at Clarkston, so we aren’t going right through town,” said Mingo. “In case there’s shooting.”

“There won’t be shooting,” said Cole. “We’re crossing into Washington, not Iran. If they stop us, they stop us, we don’t shoot.”

“And if they try to arrest us?” said Mingo.

“Then we’re arrested,” said Cole. “Let them take the heat for arresting United States soldiers. Better than us killing U.S. citizens. In or out of the National Guard.”

“Those really the rules of engagement?” said Mingo.

“Absolutely,” said Cole. “The only time we use our weapons is at Lake Chinnereth, and then only if we know they’re definitely the rebels and we can’t avoid shooting.”

“Hell, the truck’s all yours then,” said Mingo. “Those are shitty rules of engagement. I’m not going to rot in some jail.”

“It’ll be an American jail,” said Benny. “Cable TV.”

“Okay,” said Cole, “who’s willing to go with the truck, under those rules of engagement?”

Everybody looked stonily forward. “We don’t want to kill anybody,” said Drew, “but we don’t want them to be able to shoot, and us not.”

“I don’t want to do it alone,” said Cole.

“It’s just a U-Haul,” said Mingo.

“No need two of us getting arrested,” said Arty.

“I’d go with you,” said Drew. “Except that’s white man’s country. Eastern Washington? Might as well be North Dakota. Black face with you in that truck, they’re going to look extra hard at whatever you’re carrying. They’ll be looking for drugs.”

“Come on,” said Cole. What century was this?

“You never been black in the United States,” said Cat. “Trust me on this. Drew and I travel separately or we’re a gang. We come through Seattle airport, and we try real hard not to look like drug dealers.”

“How’s this,” said Load. “The truck comes in from Genesee, Idaho, on this Cow Creek Road.”

“That’s a promising name,” said Cole.

“Not exactly a major highway,” said Arty.

“That’s what we want, right?” said Benny.

“If they got nobody on it, then yeah,” said Mingo. “But if they put somebody there, it’s gonna be Barney Fife. Real eager to inspect every vehicle to count the bolts in the chassis.”

“I look at the map and it looks like this goes nowhere,” said Cole.

“No, you pick up Schlee Road to Steptoe Canyon Road and take that south to Wawawai River Road.”

“Is that a real name?” said Arty. “Wawawawawawai?”

“What is this, the Grand Canyon?” said Cole. “Nothing crosses this river for miles.”

“That’s right,” said Load. “You backtrack almost to Clarkston before you can cross the river. But we’re not working to save gas, we’re trying to go undiscovered.”

“So what shows up more,” said Cole, “a truck on main roads, or a truck driving on back roads? We have to remember they’re watching by air, too.”

“Maybe the guys with the truck go there and see what it looks like,” said Mingo. “Play it by ear.”

“There’s no second chance,” said Drew. “The first time you try is the only try you get. How can you see how it looks?”

“Cross in a car first?” said Arty.

“And then you decide that’s a good place to cross, but when you come back with the truck, the guardsman recognizes you?” said Drew. “One shot.”

“So whoever drives, decides,” said Arty. “We can’t decide it from here, looking at a map.”

“Okay,” said Drew. “Cole, when you’re about to come through, you call me on your cell. If I don’t hear from you in two hours that you got through, then we lay hands on whatever weapons we can buy inside Washington and go on without you.”

“Okay,” said Cole. “I’ll do it.”

“Of course you will,” said Drew. “You’re still active duty, so you’re used to taking shit from everybody.”

“It’s the assignment I want,” said Cole.

“Why?” asked Arty.

“When Rube and I came out of the Holland Tunnel, the National Guard saved our butts. They did their job and they went the extra mile. I want to be there to make sure we don’t hurt any of them.”

Arty rolled his eyes. Cat coughed.

“An idealist,” said Drew.

“A pacifist,” said Mingo. “Did you join the Peace Corps and got Special Ops by mistake?”

“Just teasing you,” said Load. “None of us wants to hurt American soldiers. We all agree with you. But it’s your job because you’re the one most willing to do it. We trust you to bring us the tools of the trade.”

“Of course, you got to change your appearance,” said Mingo. “You went on CNN, people are gonna know you.”

“I went on O’Reilly,” said Cole.

“So even more people,” said Mingo.

“How fast does your beard grow?” said Drew.

“Bleach your hair?” suggested Arty.

“Fake glasses?”

“Wax teeth?”

“You’re getting silly now,” said Cole. “I’ll grow my beard, I’ll dye my hair darker. It was a month ago. Nobody’s going to remember.”

Then they got down to the serious business of choosing their weapons. Torrent had opened the whole arsenal to them—including all the prototypes that were meant to counter mechs and hoverbikes.

“Guys, it’s a candy store, I know,” said Arty. “But we got to shlep these things through the woods and over a ridge that looks like it’s, what, eight miles high.”

“Vertical exaggeration,” Drew reminded him.

“A hundred and fifty pounds on your back gives you all the vertical exaggeration you need,” said Arty.

“Want to buy good backpacks in Washington?” said Drew. “Easier than trying to carry them through airports.”

“Can we keep it after?” said Benny.

“If you pay for it yourself,” said Mingo.

“Of course we’re going to pay for it ourselves,” said Benny. “You think they’re going to take a DOD purchase order?”

Cole shook his head. “They’ll fill our ATM accounts with plenty of money. This is the United States government. Possibly the only entity with more money than Aldo Verus.”

So it came down to Cole in a U-Haul. Everything they needed for a week in the woods—including rations, uniforms, backpacks, weapons, and ammunition. Covering it: a bunch of used furniture and boxes filled with old kitchen stuff. A Goodwill somewhere had been stripped of everything, it looked like.

If somebody just looked into the back of the truck, fine. If they pulled out a few boxes and looked inside them, fine. If they unloaded the first three layers, fine. But if the search got serious, Cole was toast.

He tried to picture the truck on the lonely back roads and he didn’t like the picture. Oh, he had his cover stories—if he took the northern route, then he was moving from Genesee to Pasco, but he needed to pick up stuff from his mother-in-law’s house in Colton on the way. If he went into Washington through Clarkston, then it was still Genesee and Pasco, only he could skip the mother-in-law. He even had the mother-in-law’s name—a woman they knew would not be home, but who had a daughter the right age to be married to Cole. Just in case they got a guardsman who happened to be a local boy.

Still, once he got across the border near Uniontown, why in the world would he take that circuitous route on Schlee and Steptoe and Wawawai River Road? Obvious answer: He wanted to avoid crossing the border again. Maybe they’d buy it. But it was a lot of miles out of the way. If I were a patrolman and I heard that story, I’d unload the whole damn truck.