299 Days: The Stronghold

Chapter 131 The Hamburglar (May 13)

After the meeting about the graffiti, Jeanie spent the rest of the day doing her job: spinning the government line to the media. She did TV interviews on how the FCard system was working. She worked with the public affairs officers from a National Guard unit to do a story on how civilians and the FC were volunteering in droves to help the Guard with food and fuel distribution efforts. There were smiles all around. Jeanie was surrounded by this happy stuff all day. She was starting to believe that everything would be OK.

In the late afternoon, she got a text from a strange number. It said, “Jim here. Call this number ASAP.” Jeanie was scared as she dialed.

Jim answered in a whisper. “Can’t talk much,” he said. “Not supposed to be on a phone. I borrowed this phone from one of my men.”

“Are you OK?” Jeanie asked.

Jim paused. He didn’t want to make her worry, but the answer was “no.”

“I guess so,” Jim said. “Here’s the deal. My CO,” which meant commanding officer, “came to me and said that CID found that I had some Facebook friends who are POI.” “CID” was the Army’s Criminal Investigative Division, the Guard’s internal affairs police.

Facebook friends. Jeanie froze. It felt like all the blood drained out of her. They knew about Jim’s friendship with the WAB guys. Oh crap. She and Jim were in danger now.

“What did your CO say?” Jeanie asked. She was hoping desperately for good news from Jim.

“He said that I’m getting transferred to a ‘less sensitive’ unit,” Jim said. “I’m going out to some farm in Eastern Washington to guard it. I’m done in the Guard. My career is over. I’ll serve out my time in this new unit. They call it the ‘penal battalion.’ It’s more like being in jail. The MPs watch the unit like hawks. We get all the shit work. I mean the total shit work. I’m not supposed to be calling anyone. I gotta go. Love you. Don’t worry.”

Jeanie started crying. “Wait.” She didn’t want him to hang up. “Are you going to be OK?”

Jim regretted telling her what had happened. She’d just worry now.

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s not like I’m in an actual jail or anything. Besides, we have plenty to eat and the gangs are miles away.” He was serious: he’d be fine. Because the Guard was so screwed up they couldn’t actually pull off anything nasty towards him. He needed Jeanie to know that.

“Here’s the thing,” Jim said in a whisper. He was talking quickly to get all of the information out before he had to hang up. “Nothing is going right. I mean the Guard is totally dysfunctional right now. We’re not even issued ammunition. We show the public our weapons but they don’t know that they’re unloaded. This is all a show. We don’t have radios most of the time and no one is told what frequencies to use. The political people don’t trust us; they think we’ll link up with defecting units. Half the time there’s no fuel for our vehicles. Cooked food comes sometimes. Other times we use up the MREs.”

Jim paused and then kept going to get all the info out to Jeanie. “At first, most of the men were reporting for duty. A week ago, it was down to half. Now it’s even less. People are just melting away. The next morning they’re not around. We can’t do a thing. No one can make a decision. Everything is political. We were supposed to go into Seattle last week. We were told to go, then to not go. Then to go, then not. Over and over. It was ridiculous. They were trying to figure if sending more of us would ‘escalate’ the situation in Seattle. Then some wanted a ‘show of force’ and then the de-escalators would win and we’d stand down. A total joke.”

Jim caught his breath and kept whispering. “So don’t worry. I’m probably better off at the potato farm. We’ll just sit around there and make sure the Hamburglar doesn’t steal the Fry Guys,” he said in a reference to the old McDonald’s cartoon characters advertising Happy Meals. Back when there were Happy Meals.

That made Jeanie laugh. The Hamburglar. That was her Jim, making jokes in a tough situation. He would be OK.

“So you’re not working on computers anymore,” she asked, knowing the answer. She was whispering, too.

“Uh, no,” Jim said. “They don’t want a ‘POI-lover’ like me near the networks. That’s the really frustrating part,” he said getting a little choked up. “I know that system like the back of my hand. I can stop some of the hacking that’s going on and get the system back up when it goes down. They need me. But I was a Facebook friend with someone who pisses them off. So they put me on Hamburglar duty.”

Jeanie laughed again. That was what Jim needed to hear. She was laughing. She wouldn’t worry. He could go now.

“Gotta run, dear,” Jim said in a hurried whisper. “Love you. I’ll be fine. Tell the TV stations that the Fry Guys are safe from the Hamburglar.” He hung up.

Jeanie laughed some more.

And then cried. And cried and cried.

She was worried about Jim. And herself. She knew that she held an ultra-high security clearance. It wouldn’t be long before she got sent on Hamburglar duty. Her career was over.

But, it could even be worse. They could kick her out of Camp Murray and make her live out there with the regular people. She would have to stand in line with an FCard—if they even gave her an FCard. She might go to jail. They might…

Just then Jason walked into Jeanie’s office. “Jeanie, can I talk to you?” he asked. He closed the door to her office. Here it came.

“Yeah, Jason, what’s up?” she asked as cheery as possible.

“Were you crying?” he asked. She had tears on her cheeks.

“Allergies,” she said. It’s what she always said when she didn’t want people to know she was crying.

“Jeanie, we love your work here, but we need to make some changes,” Jason said. “We’d like you to work with some of the VIPs who come out here. We’d like you to give them pep talks. We have them come to Camp Murray to get energized. It’s kind of a reward to local elected officials and others who do a good job. Hear a speech from the Governor, that kind of thing. You would be a handler of them when they get here. How does that sound?”

Busted. She knew they knew about Jim and the POI thing. Maybe they knew about Jeanie socializing in the past with the WAB guys; maybe they could tell she unfriended them a while ago on Facebook. Oh well. Giving VIP tours was better than going to jail.

Were they being nice to her because they liked her? Nah, Jeanie decided. They didn’t want her, with all her sensitive information, to just go out into the streets and meet up with the Patriots and spill her guts. They wanted to keep an eye on her. Where better to do that than Camp Murray? She was in the civilian version of a penal battalion, though it beat jail and it beat being out on the street.

“Sure,” she said with a fake smile. “Sounds great. Put me to use where I’m needed the most.”

Jason’s cell phone rang. He looked at the number and said, “Gotta go. See you around, Jeanie.”

Jeanie sat in her office and cried some more. Her whole life had been on an amazing trajectory. At age twenty-eight she had been the communications director for the next governor. Now she was a suspected terrorist sympathizer and being watched. Her life seemed over.

Tomorrow was her twenty-ninth birthday.