Chris Offutt - The Good Brother

He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, aiming his face at the ceiling. He could have been a banker explaining interest dividends.

“Maybe they got smart,” he said. “Maybe they shifted tactics after Waco blew up in their face.”

“Shifted how?” Owen said.

“They’re treating us like a third-world country. Infiltrate and destabilize. Setting a forest fire is right up their alley.”

“What’s their next step?” Owen said.

“Neutralize support systems.”

“Like firing those men?”

“Exactly. And anyone else who’s visible — Rodney, Johnny. Next they’ll disrupt communication and shut down supply routes.”

“And then?”

“Attack.”

“By air?” Owen said.

“No way,” Frank said. “Vertical envelopment doesn’t work. Six thousand choppers shot down is the lesson of Vietnam. They’ll come on the ground. They’ll come hard. And they’ll come soon.”

He turned off his laptop and began dismantling the equipment. The men were quiet. Joe watched, surprised by the effect of Ty’s news. Frank stowed the computer in a small case and walked to the window. The sunlight framed his silhouette.

“Our time has come,” he said. “The forces of evil are upon us. Owen, mobilize the men. Use the CB and the codes. Move all caches to Camp Megiddo — commo, weapons, food, water. We need to be done by dawn.”

He bent to Coop and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Coop, you can serve us best at the ranch house. You’ll be radio liaison between Megiddo and the world. Monitor emergency channels, police band, and the Feds. Owen, you help him set it up.”

Frank gazed at Joe.

“I need to talk with you.”

Joe followed him into a small room containing two narrow cots. The walls were coarse, having been painted with undercoating years ago and never completed. There was no window. A layer of grime covered every surface.

“I know none of this is your lookout,” Frank said. “You can leave if you want.”

“I have a reason to stay.”

“You’re wanted by the law somewhere.”

“Not exactly.”

“We’ve been here a long time, fighting for this land. Now that we got it tamed down, the government’s bringing back the wolf and the bear. My great-grandfather was killed by a grizzly and now I’m supposed to let them wander around my land.”

“I can see how that would be hard.”

“If a wolf takes a calf, it goes free. If a rancher shoots the wolf, he goes to jail.”

“Is that what you’re fighting for?”

“We’re not fighting anyone, Joe. The truth is, we’re waiting for someone to come fight us.”

Frank stood close enough for Joe to smell him. Dandruff lay like frost along his shoulders.

“I hate to ask you for help,” Frank said. “But there’s two things you could do.”

“No promises.”

“We got to bring Johnny in. He’s a loose cannon, and nobody knows it more than you. Eight now, we can’t afford to have him running around on his own.”

“What’s the other thing?”

“Coop’s not doing good. He’s losing weight and he’s not always there, if you know what I mean.”

“You want me to babysit.”

“It’s a noncombatant role, Joe.”

“Are Botree’s kids safe?”

“I think so.”

“You think?”

“None of this is a hundred percent. For all I know, Ty’s an informer planting disinformation. Maybe the Feds are running the same truck back and forth over Skalkaho Pass as a decoy. Maybe you’re a spy. Maybe somebody got to Johnny, and that’s why he left and hasn’t come home. But none of that matters now.”

“I’ll watch out for Coop,” Joe said. “But I don’t have control over Johnny.”

“Good man,” Frank said. “Any questions?”

Joe shook his head and turned to leave. In the corner beside the door were stacks of paper bound by haystring. He slipped the top one free of its bundle. On the cover was a drawing of Montana’s state borders filled with tombstones. At the bottom, flanked by swords and rifles, was a quote from Deuteronomy. “I kill and I make alive; I five forever when I whet my flashing sword.” He opened it to a bull’s-eye target. In the center was a picture of Uncle Sam with a Star of David on his hat. One arm was around the shoulders of an Indian and the other around a dark-skinned man.

Joe held the pamphlet away from his body like a dead snake that still scared him with its fangs.

“Where did these come from?”

“I thought you knew,” Frank said. “I thought somebody told you by now.”

“Told me what.”

“Those are what sent me to the mountain.”

“I thought you sold a rifle with a bayonet mount to an undercover guy.”

“You know how many people were killed last year by a bayonet attack?”

Joe shook his head.

“None,” Frank said, “But there’s a warrant out on me over it.”

“What’s a bayonet got to do with these damn things?”

“The Feds were going to drop the charges if I rolled over on Coop and Owen, No way I could do that.”

“Coop and Owen?”

“Sure, Joe. They print them and take them to town.”

Joe couldn’t speak. He threw the bundle onto the pile. Dust streamed away from the impact.

“Welcome to the real world,” Frank said.

“That stuff’s not real, it’s made up. It’s bad.”

“This isn’t about good or bad, it’s about politics.”

“Politics.”

“You bet. You should have seen the leafleting we did in “Vietnam, Iraq, and Nicaragua. It’s just a tool, same as my rifle and computer.”

“Those pamphlets are full of lies.”

“How do you know, Joe? How do you know the Jews don’t run the world banks? Are you sure there are no video cameras on interstate highways? Can you tell me that UN troops aren’t building detention centers in Michigan? Answer me that. Can you for sure say no?”

“It’s hard to believe, Frank.”

“Of course it’s hard to believe. Nobody believes what’s going on until it’s too late. I shed blood for this country and look what it’s become — a multicultural welfare state run by FEMA and the UN. We have to stick together.”

“Who?”

“You get blood in your face, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you blush, you turn red.”

“I reckon.”

“That’s what makes you a white man. And white men got to protect their own because the government’s busy protecting the mud people. Don’t look so funny, Joe. Everybody knows you’re on the run. Let he who is innocent cast the first stone.”

Joe stepped away from Frank. He felt smothered, as if the force of Frank’s words were a fire that had leached the oxygen from the room. He inhaled deeply but was unable to get enough air in his body.

“Let me ask you something, Joe.” Frank’s voice was conversational, as if they were fishing buddies. “Did you know that this country’s been in a declared state of national emergency since 1933?”

Joe shook his head.

“Oh, yeah. Roosevelt did it. That’s not in the pamphlets. There’s a lot that’s not. Do you have a dollar?”

“A dollar?”

“Yeah, a dollar bill. The fake currency that’s not worth the ink it’s printed with. Do you have one?”

“Yes.”

“Take it out.”

Joe opened his wallet and removed a dollar.

“Now look on the back. See the pyramid and the eye? Good, now below is some writing in Latin. Novus Ordo Seclorum. Know what that means?”

Joe shook his head.

“New World Order. This has been coming for a long time, Joe. It’s not new, it’s old. What’s new is public knowledge and armed resistance.”

He smiled and leaned close.