ARE THEY SERVING CAKE WHERE WE’RE GOING? - TWWW PART 9

Barry was surprised to see Lynn sitting with Ramona when they returned. He thought maybe Lynn was realizing they weren’t in a position to be judging anyone. Pastor Lincoln walked in a few feet behind. He watched closely his foot steps, first his left then his right, trying desperately not to think about anything in particular.

“Lynn, are you ready to go?” Barry asked. She mouthed to Ramona to give her a minute then placed her hand on Ramona’s forearm as a gesture of comfort. Lynne took Barry aside: “Do you mind if Ramona and her son go with us up to Fresno? Her ex lives in San Francisco, which isn’t that far from my parents; she thinks he will help them. I was hoping we could drop her off or something…make sure they’re ok.”

Barry smiled; it was unlike Lynn to open up to someone so quickly. He was glad to see this situation bringing out the best in her. “Sure. That’s a good idea,” he replied.

Lynn smiled back to Ramona, who let out the big breath she was holding. She told Joseph to get his toys together, “We’re going to make a stop first, but then we’re going to see your dad”, she told him.

Pastor Wilde sat silently in the front pew, his hands clasped tightly between his legs. His head was down but he wasn’t praying. “What happened?” Lynn asked Barry. He didn’t answer. She then turned her question to the pastor, “Well…what happened?”

“Nothing,” replied Pastor Wilde giving a slight smile. She again looked to Barry who gave no more information than the pastor’s silence offered. He saw no point in getting Lynn upset. What happened at the gas station was nothing more than they had experienced already; it was only new to the pastor and he would have to deal with it in his own way.

Ramona said she and Joseph were ready. Lynn grabbed her backpack and handed Barry his. “We’re going Pastor.” Lynn called out. She said it loud enough so the echo in the empty church broke the pastor from his thoughts. “Good Luck,” he said as he stood up and turned towards them.

Ramona put her things down and walked with Joseph to the front to give the pastor a hug. “Thank you for all your help and prayers. God bless you.”

“And you too. All of you. I will be praying for your safety and protection,” he said. Lynn followed behind Romona giving the him a hug and Barry behind her, gave the pastor a handshake. “What are you going to do?” Barry asked.

“I’m going to preach as I’ve always done; whether it’s to 5 people or 500. The size of the congregation changes all the time. When this thing is all over, people will come back…everything will go back to normal.” Barry nodded. He wondered how much of what Pastor Wilde said did he himself believe.

He let Lynn drive. Ramona sat in the front and he sat in back with Joseph. Ramona’s demeanor had changed completely. Her tears had dried and hope filled out her face. She and Lynn seemed to get along quite well. They sat in the front seat chatting about all the things and relationships they’ve lost since the new way had begun. He could almost forget and imagine they were going to a park or maybe it was an afternoon outing to a museum. Joseph took 2 race cars out of his little backpack; a sleek black one with racing stripes going down the middle or a red one with the number 7 marked on both doors. Joseph held up both in either hand, offering an option to Barry. Which one do you want?



Morris memorized the list by heart. The agency knew of all the group meetings. They kept a closer watch over ones they thought might turn into resistance groups; the groups with the potential of being the most threatening were infiltrated by agents. Of the 25 group meetings in a 15 mile radius; 6 were being led by a religious sect of some sort. Of the remaining 19, 14 were considered to be a possible threat due to political affiliations, reporters or those in high positions of academia and the like. The spies in those groups reported to the agency regularly. There were 5 remaining groups working under the radar; untouched. They had no political members, none were of any high standing in the community; no particular religious affiliation or leadership roles. They were just a group of regular people.

Morris walked for over an hour to get to the groups meeting place. He didn’t want to take any public transportation. He did not want to be remembered or seen. The icepack and heat pad should be able to hold up until he got to the meeting spot, he thought; as long as he switched them out every 15 minutes or so. Morris had gotten the first models of the chip. One of the earlier faults, was the chips inability to deal with extreme and sudden changes in body temperature. It would get confused and the satellites couldn’t do a location track. He kept a folded blanket over his arm to hide his right hand. He looked like one of the many homeless now walking the streets, carrying what remained of their former lives on their backs. The stubble growth creeping around his chin also added to the ambiance. Morris walked down side streets and back ways where he could. He looked over his shoulder, making sure he didn’t see the same face twice.

“Pilot’s Wash and Dry” read the signage. Only two people were doing any washing, which was odd for a Saturday. He wondered if they were the lookouts; he didn’t remember them being on the list as part of this group. A man was meticulously separating his lights from his darks and a woman who was putting her lingerie in the dryer; she carefully held up and inspected each piece before putting it in the machine. Both seemed odd. Maybe they weren’t look outs, maybe they were agents because it was clear they didn’t know how to do laundry. They didn’t look up, which was good, but if they really were agents, it wouldn’t matter. They could recite everything about Morris down to his slight limp on the right side and based on his age, the color of his pants and the lack of squareness to his jawline, the type of underwear he was wearing. Morris knew this because he went through the same company training; he deduced the man are a boxers type and the woman was a thong type though she really should be wearing full briefs.

Morris continued to walk back into the long adjoining hallway. There was a single line of fluorescents lights overhead; they flickered more off than on. He switched out the heating pad for the ice pack then he placed the blanket back over his hand. He pulled the gun out of his pocket. He looked to make sure the safety was still on. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he wanted to be sure he had their full attention when he spoke.

************************************************************************

There was no way for Lynn to call her parents ahead of time. When they still had access to phones, she told her mother they would be making their way there, but that was 3 weeks ago. For Lynn, who had never gone more than a few days without talking to her mother; 3 weeks seemed an eternity.

Barry tried to keep his paranoia to himself. He kept looking behind them as discreetly as possible. His shifted his body to sit at an angle facing Joseph, with his back to the car door. He felt like he was watching a game courtside, his head turning from side to side to look out the front and rear windows of the car. He wanted to see where they were going and where they had been. He kept saying to himself, no one was following them; they weren’t important enough.

Joseph fell asleep during the long drive, clutching tightly his racing car in one hand and his backpack in the other. Like most little boys, it was his toys and mommy tucking him at night that made him feel safe. Barry got security from his job, his home…Lynn. The first two were pried from his hands, the government peeling back his fingers until they broke. Like worker ants carrying away the flesh of a dead slug lying on the ground, so were his things carried away. Lynne was all he had now. He thanked God, she was still with him.

It was just after dark as they pulled up the driveway to Lynn’s parent’s home. Most of the people living in the neighborhood were retired. There was a good mile, if not two, between the homes along with a long driveway or dirt path off the street. Lynn put on the high beams because years ago when the area was being developed, the neighborhood opted for no street lights. Even with the stars up above, the streets were pitch black.

Her parents’ home was hidden by an overgrowth of trees and bushes growing since her teenage years. Her father still talked about how he was going to trim them down. He’d walk out of house and down the drive and be overwhelmed by the thought. Then he’d take another sallow of his beer and turn around and walk back into the house. He joked he was waiting for his grandchildren to come and help him.



Before the doorbell had completed its first ring, Lynn’s mom opened the door.

“Oh Thank God. I’ve been practically sleeping on the porch for the past few weeks. I didn’t want to miss you.” She hugged Lynn for the longest time.

“Hello Barry,” she said as if she had eaten something that left a bad taste in her mouth. There was only a slight improvement when she noticed they brought company.

“Mom, this is Ramona and her son Joseph. We stopped by the church first and they were there. We’re going to take them to her ex’s when we leave here.”

“Leave here to go where?” Her mother asked.

“Ramona…Joseph, this is Denise, my mother,” Lynne said ignoring her mothers question. Her father was making his way to the front door. “And this is my dad, Granville.” Lynn walked in past her mom and gave her dad a big hug; nuzzled in his shoulder, she felt safe enough to cry.

They moved past the greetings, with Denise offering handshakes and Granville giving hugs; especially to Joseph who was hiding behind Ramona’s legs. Granville, who stood over 6ft tall, picked the boy high up over his shoulders. Joseph began to laugh. “Hi”, the boy said between giggles.

Denise, not forgetting her question had not been answered, asked again. “Leave to go where? Are you just going to drive aimlessly across the city…To do what?”

Granville saw how uncomfortable everyone was getting, so he stepped in. “Well let’s not just stand around, come in. Go back into the kitchen. We’ll fix you something to eat.” He leaned in towards Denise, “Leave it alone.” He said loud enough for only her to hear. “Leave it alone.”

Ramona asked if she and Joseph could use a bathroom to wash up. It was good timing, she sensed the family needed to talk. She and Joseph had spent the night in the church and they wanted to get cleaned up and change clothes. Washing her face had been a luxury Ramona had taken for granted. Granville looked out from the refrigerator, “You can have a room with your own bathroom. And take your time. Rest up.

“Are we sleeping here tonight?” Joseph asked eagerly. Ramona nodded. “In a bed?”
“Huh…yes,” she answered a little embarrassed. She had always been able to take care of Joseph before, even without the help of his father. Reality made her sad again. She took Joseph’s hand and swung it back and forth as they followed Granville. Don’t think too far ahead, she thought to herself. Just think about now.




Granville opened the bedroom door. “There you go and Lynn will let you know when the food is ready.” Ramona smiled, “Thank you” she said as Granville turned to leave.

The room was nice and neutral; cream walls adorned with pictures of people fishing and paintings of sun rises. The queen size bed had a quilt the same color as the walls which were the same color as the berber carpet. It all blended into a sea of beige abyss. Ramona felt for the bed to assure herself of her footing.

She walked into the bathroom to turn on the water for the tub. It was usually a battle to get Joseph to take a bath, but before she could ask, he had already started taking his cloths off.

“The water isn’t warm enough,” she said. Too late; Joseph was sitting politely in the tub, shivering and waiting for it to fill up.

Denise took out some ground beef to defrost in the microwave. “I know spaghetti is nothing special, but it’s quick.” She opened a bag of triple-washed lettuce, cut up a few tomatoes and cucumbers and added bottled salad dressing into a large bowl. The garlic bread has already been taken out of the freezer and was cooking nicely in the oven. It may have not been fresh or homemade but it still filled the kitchen with a welcoming aroma. Denise and Granville moved though the kitchen like a couple performing a dance for the 100th time; they reached for pots and pans without having to say ‘excuse me’ or one waiting for the other to unblock the path to the spice cabinet. It was obvious they had been married for many years. Denise gave sideway glances to Barry, who was sitting at the kitchen table looking at everything but his mother-in-law. It was always tense between them; she liked him enough but not much more.

“It wasn’t personal,” she told him at he and Lynn’s engagement party years ago, “I just had something different in mind for my daughter.” By different she meant someone with a few more zeros on his paycheck. When he and Lynn first began dating, he was an account manager at a CPA firm. In the evenings he was going to school to prepare for his license. They weren’t looking for a partner at the time and the firm was so small there was no guarantee they would be looking for a partner later. But Barry really liked the company so he waited it out.

Denise saw his patience as not being ambitious. She couldn’t understand him not setting his sights higher. Why not try for a CFO or CEO at a larger firm. Why be satisfied with an opportunity that may or may not present itself at some point in the near or distant future.

Lynn trusted him, she understood. He decided to stay. He got his CPA license and then became partner a year later and thanks to a roster of high end clients, the firm grew to be number 3 in the top 10 of their field, nation wide. It wasn’t until Denise saw the article in Forbes magazine did she lighten up a bit.
Barry may have been looking away from Denise, but he kept a close eye on Lynn; as if she would disappear from the table and leave him alone. Lynn was staring out of the sliding glass doors looking out into the backyard. Even without seeing her eyes, she was gone; her mind off somewhere out in the world.

Granville possessed a bit more tact, some grace you might say; he figured it would be better if the question came from him. It had to be asked and it was only a matter of time before Denise sunk her teeth into it again. “So…uh, where are you all going next?” Before Barry or Lynn could answer, Denise did what you could always count on her to do; butt in.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t get it. Tell me again why you won’t take the implant?”

“The chip mom!”

“The chip. The implant…whatever you want to call it. Can one of you please explain to me again why you won’t get implanted?”

“Mom, the Bible says it’s the…

“Mark of the Beast…good ole Beelzebub. Please don’t give me that crap. There is nothing religious about it. It’s the world moving forward. It’s safer; all your information is in one spot, no chance for fraud. What’s demonic about that? Every time there is new technology, people cry ‘Satan!’ You can still go to church and pray to whoever or whatever you want. There’s that big tv pastor…I was clicking through the channels yesterday, he’s still got em packed in. There had to be a few thousand people.”

“Denise, it’s just what we believe.”

“Barry please, it’s what you believe. You haven’t seen the inside of a church since your wedding day.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh. When was the last time? Easter…maybe a Christmas service? Those dates don’t count. I even go to church on those days, but you don’t hear me acting holier than thou and taking my family out on the road to live like gypsies because of it.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“What is the point Barry?”

“We are still believers in Christ.”

“Oh my God, Gran, you hearing this?” she said turning to Granville who was busy stirring the tomato sauce and trying to stay out of the way. She paused, hand on hip waiting for him to concur. He’d have to disappoint her this time.

“Drop it Denise,” he said. “Drop It!” Granville repeated, with more intention than the first time. She dropped it.

**********************************************************************

Morris held the gun up above his head. “Excuse me. May I have your attention? I don’t want to use this, but it’s important that you listen.”

The room of 9 stopped talking. There were some gasps, but silence came quickly.

“My name is Morris Penski I have worked for the Agency for over 20 years. We have been monitoring groups like yours for several months and it isn’t going to be safe for you to meet here much longer. If you’re not chipped, you will be considered an enemy of the state. I’m here because I want out and I think you can help me. I can help you…we can help each other.”

One man walking towards Morris said, “If you don’t mean us any harm, then why do you have a gun?”

“I’m sorry Morris answered quickly. I just wanted to be sure I got a chance to speak uninterrupted.” He put the gun down at his side, but made it clear he was still in control of the room. You’re Dr. Beher…correct?”

The dr. looked around the room. A few in the group moved closer to Morris. He raised the gun slightly, just to be sure they saw it.

“How do you know me?”

“I know all of you. As I said, we – the agency – we’ve been watching your group…all the groups. You’re Dr. Beher.” Morris looked around the room, “I believe you’re Abigail, you recently converted to Christianity from Judaism. Abigail was an older woman. Her husband of 27 years opted to get implanted. It wasn’t the best marriage; Abigail always reasoned no marriage of any length was. At a certain point you just stop growing. The distance between them became more obvious after their two adult children had moved out of the house. Abigail converted 3 years ago, prior to the ‘New Way’. At 65 years of age, her husband wasn’t up for life the old way. He didn’t want to be a Christian; he wasn’t really Jewish either, at least not the way she was. He never went to synagogue or participated in any of the Jewish holidays. The only thing Jewish about her husband was his last name.

There was a young black woman in her early 20’s “You’re Cassandra. You were in the People’s Army until recently. You received a dishonorable discharge because you wouldn’t get the chip.

“You really know about all of us?” Cassandra asked.

“Yes, everything; date and place of birth, family, education, blood type, criminal records.” Morris looked in the direction of man clutching tightly to his wife. The man said, “That was a long time ago. I was 16…a teenager.”

“I know Jim.” Morris answered.

Dr. Beher moved closer until he was standing face to face with Morris. “How long?”
“Not tomorrow, but soon. I’d say within the month things will began to close in. I think they’re waiting for some things to happen.”

“What things?”

“I don’t know, but they’re waiting for something to fall into place.”

“Why did you come here?” Cassandra asked.

“Because this is one of the few groups not infiltrated by an agent.”

Morris put the gun into his waistband. He reached into his pants pocket to pull out his wallet. He handed it to the dr. “It has my driver license and my employment card.” It was also time to switch out the icepack. Dr. Beher looked at the wallet checking the i.d. and everything else. He handed it to Cassandra to check out. “Does it look authentic?” he asked her. She held up his government card to the light. She knew it would have to have a watermark burned into the surface; and like military personnel, his rank would be indicated through symbols. She nodded. Dr. Beher watched closely as Morris went through the procedure of changing the packs over his hand. “This is so…”

Dr. Beher said, “Yes, I know – you trying change your body temperature so the satellite signal jams.

“Oh, you know about that. Good. Then you will understand why I want you to cut it off…my hand. I want this thing out of me.”

“This thing you are doing tells me you have one of the first models, which is good for you. The ones they make now attach to the central nervous system. The earlier models were just computer chips lying beneath the dermis. They stored information, had satellite tracking capabilities, but not much more. I may not have to do anything as drastic as removing your hand.”

Abigail looked around. She was surprised this was really being considered. “How do we trust him? Maybe he himself is a spy, like he talked about.”

Morris carefully wrapped his hand with the heating pad. Sweat was pouring down his forehead yet his body felt chilled as his body struggled to adjust.

“Cassandra?” he asked, “You served in Israel…right?

“Yes, just two years.” she answered.

“You came back to the states; they were sending you to get college?”

“Yes. I was a radar operator. I had planned on going to college to get additional training; to learn all of the new systems, however, I refused to get implanted. At my rank, we were required too long before they started subjecting civilians to it. But you know that. I got a dishonorable discharge, just like you said.” Cassandra held her head down. She still believed she did the right thing however to receive a dishonorable discharge was nothing to feel proud about.

“What was your level of security?”

She looked up, her arms folded, her lips held tight.

“I’m not trying to put you on the spot, even though I guess I am. Just humor me?

“Considering my position, I was level 2.”

Do you remember hearing about bunkers?”

Cassandra looked around. She gave an uncomfortable shrug of her shoulder, “Well sure. It was just a rumor.”

“No, not a rumor; truth. The nearest one to here is in Colorado. They just have a skeleton crew for right now, but I can get us in.”

Dr. Beher asked, “Cassandra is that true…are there bunkers?”

“Well, I guess it’s possible. I remember, we went on a short mission to secure a UN facility in the Sinai Peninsula. It was somewhat neutral; me being there was more for show than anything else. I happen to catch live missile signals from underground. It would have had to been a base or something but it was several thousand feet beneath us. I didn’t think Israelis had that kind of technology. I went to my superior officer, he told me I must be mistaken, then I was transferred out the next day. I didn’t think much of it.
Then a few months later, my superior came to me and said they wanted to promote me. That’s when I was going to go to college to get the additional training and a degree; than things started changing. They told me I had to get implanted if I wanted to be a part of the Army and if I wanted to advance.”

“There is one in Israel, as a matter of fact, there’s two. Listen, “Morris said aloud, looking around the room to be sure everyone was listening, “We don’t have much time. Let me ask you, do you have two lookouts in the laudrymat?”

Jim answered, “No, it’s just us that meets here. If people are up there doing laundry, they’re doing laundry. We come in through the back. The owner lets up meet here, as long as we don’t stay overnight.”

“Well then I believe the two I passed might be agents, which means you have no time left. I know you have no reason to trust me and you probably won’t completely until we reach the bunker and you see for yourself.” Morris looked down at his hand. The ice pack was warming up and heat pad was cooling down. “I thought I would at least have another hour with these. I don’t have much time either,” Morris pleaded. “They’ll be able to track me soon.” Morris thought of Lance knocking on his door and the third man on the porch who was probably parked a few houses down. They may not notice him missing til morning, but they might do a check before nightfall. Morris knew he couldn’t wait until the chip came online again.

Dr. Beher started gathering things together, “Everyone…after we lost our homes and jobs, we knew this time was coming. We knew they would not let us meet here forever. It’s best we be a little ahead than behind.” The group knew what he was going to say next. There may have been opposition, but no one vocalized it. At the meetings they were told to carry on them only what they would need; it was not a given they would be able to go back to where they were staying. Only come if you’re prepared to leave your loved ones behind. There may not be an opportunity to go a get them. None of them had homes anymore; they bummed nights on the couches of implanted family and friends or went to shelters. “We go now.”

Jim grabbed the keys out of his jean pocket. “Whose driving the van and who’s driving the bus?” One was a plumbing van with only mirrored windows, one on either side and it had double doors in the back. The other was a small tourist bus. The windows were covered in an advertisement silkscreen for a video phone which covered the top half. Jim began to split them up; 5 in one van, 5 in another, as Morris rounded out their number to 10. Morris rode in the same van as the dr. and Cassandra. They rushed through the tiny back room; grabbing water, food and gas containers they had been stock piling. Morris gave them the route. It was out of the way; adding several days to the journey, but it avoided the main highways and places where cameras were posted.

Jim was the last to leave. He turned the light switch off. This place had become a 2nd home, not because it was comfortable, but it was where the lost had collected. He knew it could happen any day, but he never sat and thought what it would really be like when it was time to go. He thought there would be more time to get their thoughts together. Time to plan. Time to mourn.

The room was dark except for the light allowed from the open doorway Jim was standing in. He watched how the shadows hit upon the chairs and the few tables where they had sat and sometimes prayed and talked about the way things were.

Jim Drove the tour bus and Dorsey drove the plumbing van containing Morris, Dr. Beher, Cassandra and Matthew. Dorsey was a good pick for driving the plumbing truck. He put his cap low on his head; his dark hair, badly in need of a haircut peeked out of the back. He had on a work shirt that looked as if he could been crawling underneath someone’s home doing pipe inspections.

Cassandra put out some blankets on the floor of the van. Dr. Beher was laying out instruments from his medical bag.

“You’re not doing it here?” Morris said trying not to sound panicked.

“Relax. It’s like removing a hang nail or a thorn. They’re going to be able to track you soon. If what you say is true, you’re putting us all in danger as long as you as you have that thing in your body. You are asking us to trust you. You must trust us. Now lay down.”

Morris hesitated. They were off the main streets and maintaining a low speed. It was uncomfortable lying on the hard bottom of the van, even with the blankets. The weight of his stomach kept pushing again his spine. Morris kept turning his hips in an attempt to adjust his weight; there had to be a comfortable spot.

Dr. Beher held a reader in front of his face; a very old and discontinued model. “Morris, this is going to tell me exactly where the chip is. Then I’m going to do a very small incision, well maybe not so small, but big enough to get the chip out. Then I will stitch you up.”

Cassandra was filling a syringe; she held it up, pushing liquid through the needle to get out any air bubbles.

“Why are you putting me under? You said it was like pulling out a thorn. Give me a local or just do it.”

Cassandra rolled up Morris’ sleeve to prep him. Morris moved his arm away.

“Morris”, Dr. Beher started, “There may be complications. I am 99 per cent sure, I can just remove the chip with no problem, but there is a chance things will not be as we had hoped and I may have to remove your hand.”

Morris laid his left arm back down at his side. Cassandra injected him. “Don’t worry. As part of our training we learn basic medical procedures. Giving shots, extracting blood, removing bullets.” Then she messaged his arm starting from his hand going up to his forearm and finally to his armpit. He felt bad for her; he had been sweating terribly. She said it was to help the anesthesia go through his system faster.

Dr. Beher leaned over looking into Morris’s face, “Do you know the Lord’s Prayer?”

“What? Uhhh, I use to say it in Sunday school when I was a kid.”

“Let’s recite it shall we,” the doctor said pulling the mask over his face.

“I don’t think this is very hygienic.” Morris said trying to lift his head off the van floor, but his head felt as weighted as his stomach once was. He was happy it was no longer pressing into his back, actually it felt the opposite. Like his stomach was filled with air and his body was held down only by Cassandra, who was still massaging his arm. He watched as she put her whole body into it; rolling back and fourth with every kneed of her hands. “That’s why we have lots of antiseptic,” Cassandra said smiling, as Dr. Beher shook the bottle above Morris’ head. The sound the liquid made swishing back and forth, reminded him of the ocean. “Do you see sharks or dolphins Morris?” Cassandra asked.

“I see a school of goldfish.”

“Ok Morris”, said the dr., “Say it with me... The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”