J. Curtis - Calexit - The Anthology

The seaports were losing traffic as the business moved to Washington and Oregon. There were other ports on the Pacific Coast, and those gave less hassle to the shippers and lower taxes. Cali enacted a tariff for every container that was offloaded at their ports and then raised it (and again, and yet again) in order to raise income which just led to another decrease in traffic each time as shippers moved to other, less expensive ports. Soon the shipyards were idle, and the formerly booming ports were at a standstill. Rail yards and railroads shut down as their traffic became lower and lower Railroads moved their rolling stock across the border for “maintenance” to get it out of the state. Truckers and trucking firms simply drove off with one last container and never returned.

With no way to pay for food, and no way to pay for energy (the environmentalists had driven nearly all the electrical generating plants out of the state years ago) and with little food being produced in the state, and no way to move it, the situation became dire. Blackouts were commonplace, (daily blackouts and power rationing became the norm) and with little food, stores were empty, local produce sellers had to have armed security. People began grow gardens for produce in their backyards, and many planted fruit trees for the same reason… if they had a backyard. Chicken coops in their garages or in the backyard all hidden behind high fences. Soon, people became hungry and restless. Since there was no way to pay enough for police and fire protection, cities became terrible places. People starving and rationing… and riots were often unanswered by police, as there were few police left, most having found other professions that paid more (like private security) that could enable a man or woman to support a family. The same thing happened to other public services like natural gas, electric, water and trash collection. They needed armed security to even do their basic functions. The only place to live well was in the country, in the mountains.

The (special) elections of 2025 elected still more socialists, with their promises to “fix” things. They’d taken the time immediately after the 2022 elections to legislate the ban of all firearms that were capable of holding more than one round, except for special permits for ranchers and such. Even then, they’d limited the calibers to less than .30, and there were no firearms that were legal for ANYONE that held more than three rounds. Pistols were verboten, except for Agents of the State. No semi-automatic rifles. All were purchased by the State at a price determined by the legislators (not the owners) and melted down. If a person chose not to voluntarily turn in a firearm or firearms, then they were tracked by the registration papers and arrested by the State and jailed for one year per gun. There had been two amnesties, then the State got serious. As of July 4 2025, there were essentially no guns in the hands of the people. They were at the mercy of (and, of course, under the “protection“ of) the State of California.

He’d heard that they had begun sending teams out under the guidance of State employed “Counselors” to confiscate food and other “surplus” items from wealthy estates and rural farms and retreats; pretty much anyone who appeared to be well-to-do and/or not starving. This included cars and valuables (and whatever else the “Counselors” thought they needed to take). From the rumors, these were just thugs with a State issued ID badge and an armed crew who simply took whatever they could, and resistance usually didn’t end well. He’d also heard that the State had chosen to confiscate the federal military installations, especially the ports in LA and San Diego. He wondered how that was gonna work. What about all the Marines and Sailors and their dependents and all that equipment? He doubted that the U.S. military was gonna just stand there and let their families be arrested and their possessions be taken.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he crossed the bridge and found the trees he had in mind. Firing the saw, he cut first one, then another, then another to make a barricade that none of the trucks could cross. Then he cut several others to fall across the first trees, making sure their branches tangled. It would take time to bypass, and there wasn’t an easy way around, although it was possible.

He then went to the bridge. With a heavy heart, he wired three sets of two sticks each, ensuring that when he was ready he could drop that bridge. He’d built it himself, and he hated the idea of destroying it. But needs must. Dropping the bridge would slow ’em down. The only ford was about a mile or so upstream, and it would take some scouting to find it. The river wasn’t too wide, but the soft bottom wouldn’t make crossing on either side of the bridge easy, if it was even possible. There were rocks under the mud, but again, it’d slow ’em down. If this had been a rainier year, it would have made a formidable barrier… as it was, it was just a muddy stream, but it would slow the trucks down.

Looking at his tablet, he saw that they had all three big trucks up the hill, and were apparently taking a break before moving farther. Looked to be about forty-five minutes until they got to the trees. He set a trip wire about a hundred feet past the trees, just enough that the vehicles would be safe when the bridge blew. He connected his wires from the bridge charges to a detonator attached to the trip wires. Then set another trip wire fifty feet from the first just to be sure. He also ran a set to the tree-line, so he could manually set it off if he had to.

He was finishing his wiring of the dynamite to the second trip wire when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Daniels?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Diego Riviera. I am a Counselor for the State of Cali. Are you at home right now?”

“Yes. Why?”

“My team is here, ready to inspect your property for surplus items that can be used by the State.” “We should be there within an hour.”

Now isn’t a good time for me… can you come tomorrow?

“No, Mr. Daniels, today is the day we have scheduled for you.”

“Really, today isn’t good. Tomorrow would be better.”

“I really must insist, Mr. Daniels. I have the authority to come whenever I wish, and today is your scheduled day. Please, meet us at your gate. Again, we should be there in an hour or so.”

“Uh, okay.”

“See you then, Mr. Daniels. Goodbye.”

He remotely set his gate to locked, and made sure via his tablet and the camera that it was down.

He’d put the solar powered cameras in place several years ago, mostly to watch for folks entering his property to steal things. They were wireless, reporting to an antenna at the peak of the roof of his house. Each one had motion sensors in place to turn them on and set an alarm at the house. Now he was glad that he had, as they gave him a great advantage over the Counselor and his team. He could watch them in real-time as they made their way along the road. And the road was, really, the only way in to or out of his property. It had been expensive, but he’d done the work himself and the silver from a fairly rich vein had paid for it, along with a pocket of gold he’d found. He’d also set them to be WiFi repeaters, so he had WiFi nearly anywhere within 500 meters along the road. Made it easy to keep in touch with his family and to surveil the cameras with a tablet, or even his phone when he wanted to.

He finished with his wiring, strung a thousand feet or so out more or less parallel with the road… then he moved up the road about a thousand feet and looked into the culvert there. More dynamite and some gasoline just for show into the twenty-four-inch culvert, just about in the center. The culvert spanned a ditch that was about two feet wide and about three feet deep. It wouldn’t stop a decent driver with a 4WD vehicle, but he suspected that these folks weren’t decent drivers. Besides, the gasoline would make for an impressive fireball, and he hoped it would make the men in the trucks cautious about proceeding. He set up another trip wire and moved on.