John Barnes - Directive 51

It seemed like a good time to do it, so they voted, married, and were put on the list for jury duty. “You could be caught in the draft, too, Jason,” Suzee warned. “There’s some idiots around here talking about the town needing a militia.”

“And there probably won’t be enough paper to make a card for me to burn,” Jason said.

She laughed. “Glad to have two more liberals in town,” she said. “That makes three of us.”

Harrison Castro looked over the assembled population of his Castle, everyone except the sentries who had voted earlier. He drew a deep breath, reminded himself that he had no mike and had to project , and began. “We have formed a bond, you and I. I am feeding and housing you; you live by my protection; you have brought your families in here to live, and I am the freeholder of our Castle here. In the last forty-eight hours you have all helped me turn away mobs who would have destroyed everything. By now we all understand—we are in this together. We are engaged in a titanic struggle to make a new civilization. I hope that a fully Constitutional, free, and sovereign America will be part of it, but I know for certain that a strong and free Castle Castro will be, because together, you and I will make it be.”

Loud cheers broke the silence; Castro noted that his four selected claques had all hit their cue perfectly, and almost everyone else had followed. He was not particularly displeased that Special Agents Bolton and Carlucci were among the few not cheering wildly; that was their privilege, and owing to their occupation, they were thoughtful men, not easily swayed and very inclined to consider things for a long time. Besides, many things would be easier if the Feds departed sometime before spring; they were handy men with weapons, and good counselors, but next summer would be easier without Federal eyes watching.

“So,” he said, “as the freeholder of Castle Castro, I would prefer that you vote in the following way…” He read off his list of intended votes, beginning of course with Norcross for president. “But again, it is your ballot. Let me offer you two options: Vote your way, if it disagrees with mine. Keep your ballot secret, if you wish. Place completed ballots in the red box to my left, and I swear upon my loyalty to my country and my family that I will report your votes faithfully and accurately to the California Secretary of State in Sacramento.

“Or, I would take it as a personal favor if you do this: Sign your name to your ballot but do not mark on it otherwise, and place it in the blue box to my right. In other words, acknowledge that because you have freely taken my protection and given your loyalty, you owe me your political allegiance, and you give over your political power to me for my use, just as you give me your bodies to use in fighting to defend Castle Castro and doing the work that must be done to house and feed us all.

“If you choose to give me your unmarked ballot, with your name on it, I will fill out your ballot for you and report it, with the others. And I will enter you into a list of people I will give preference to in any appointments or openings that may come up, because loyalty should be rewarded. All right—” He saw Carlucci trying to get his attention; the man might decide to be difficult, so Castro hurried somewhat at the last, spoiling some of the effect. Damn Carlucci anyway. “All right, all right then, now everybody vote !”

Later, as he sifted through the blue box, he discovered that Carlucci and Bolton had each signed their names, and rather than put an unmarked ballot in for him to mark, they had voted exactly opposite his desires on everything. Carlucci had added, “I do not think you understand what it is to be an American, sir, and I will leave your protection tomorrow, grateful for your help but unwilling to further give you mine.”

A man of honor. Good. And not sticking around. Even better. I’ll miss his gun. Oh well.

Bambi was charmed when, for the uncountable time, Quattro asked, “Do you think setting out the food and all is too much?”

She looked into his eyes and rested a hand on each of his triceps, dragging downward with her fingertips, willing his tense shoulders to descend. “Jenner is a tiny town, and it’s all laid out to be accessible to the road, the beaches, and the hills; nobody would ever have given any thought to defending it, it’s a place meant to welcome people. So they know that they depend on you in case of real trouble. You’ve shown them where they’ll bunk, trained their militia and armed it. It’s your canned fruit and tomatoes that’ll bring them through the winter without scurvy. They’ve gratefully accepted all of that; why would they think you were trying to buy their votes with a few sandwiches?”

“Okay. I’ll try to stop worrying. I just hope they’ll like what I could set out. I wish I could throw a real all-you-can-eat, too, you know, ’cause I’m pretty sure a lot of them are going hungry.”

Larry Mensche smiled. “Hey, truth here, Quattro? Relax and let people enjoy what you’ve done.”

“Yeah. People are just so difficult for me.”

“Just think of us as really fallible machines,” Mensche said. “Can I ask one strange question? Should we let Ysabel vote?”

“Well,” Bambi said, “she’s never been convicted of anything, she’s an American citizen, and her one vote isn’t going to change anything.”

Mensche nodded. “That’s what I think. Quattro?”

“Dude, she’s your prisoner.”

“But it’s your Castle.”

Quattro shrugged. “After all my years of wanting to be the freeholder of my own Castle, I found out I’d rather be an American citizen. Let’s let everyone vote today.”

In Lincoln, the governor sat down with her secretary of state and poured a glass of whiskey for each of them. “We won’t have the ballot results from the back corners of the state for at least a week, will we?”

“If we’re lucky. If there’s another big storm, could be two weeks before people on foot carry all the reports in.”

“But the only ones that need immediate reporting are the ones for the presidential race, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The Nebraska Secretary of State was a quiet man who generally let people arrive at their own conclusions, but he feared his governor’s nerve might fail her. He said, gently, “Nebraskans are not crazy—it’s going to come in massively for Norcross.”

“But if it takes weeks to report—”

“Well, exactly.” He drew out a sheet of typewritten paper, and said, “We got a radio link working, thanks to the physics kids at the university, but they’re having a hard time keeping it from crusting up, and they think they only have a couple hours in the battery they built before that goes, too. So it’s now or never. As it happens, what I have here is a copy, from a paper almanac, of the numbers from when Reagan carried this state, adjusted upward by either five percent or ten percent per county, re-proportioned to the last census. And if we report it, the only difference is everything that needs to happen can happen a couple of weeks early.”

She played with the pencil in front of her, pushed her glasses up her nose, and finally said, “You know, I don’t believe any of the eight states that have already reported had it any easier retrieving ballots than we did.”