Update!
[FONT="]DUCK AND COVER[/FONT]
[FONT="]PART VII: California[/FONT]
[FONT="]While Columbia’s attention was gripped by the growing war to their south, most were unaware of the battle being fought within their own borders, the war against starvation.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Departments of Agriculture and Strategic Resources, with the cooperation of local CERT teams, law enforcement, and refugees, began a serious of dramatic and risky programs in the hopes of quickly restarting what was left of agriculture in the Provisional Government. Unusually the path to caloric freedom began with the refugee relocations.[/FONT]
[FONT="]In Columbia, refugee relocations would be different than many found across the other states. Unlike Texas there was little land for the refugees to be spread out on. Unlike Nevada there wouldn’t be any OPERATION INTERCEPT. Unlike California there was no fascist army for them to be drafted into. And unlike Cleveland there were few industrial jobs for the refugees to fill. But the Columbians had an advantage. The Corpse Crisis had delayed any organized efforts of relocation, giving them time to learn from the other Fragments’ mistakes and successes.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Yet, the problems that refugees caused in camps far outweighed the ease of management that the refugee camps posed. The Corpse Crisis further outlined the diseases that would surely follow the refugees if they stayed in camps. In short, the choice became relocate the refugees or the problems would only get worse.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The relocations in Columbia were to be complete in progression. The refugees would initially fill civic centers and schools, public buildings clearly in control of the government. Next the Department of Housing asked for volunteer rooms in hotel and apartments. Finally refugees would be housed in private homes. [/FONT]
[FONT="] While the initial relocations were just getting started, a large debate broke out in the Supreme Court. The argument broke out over the constitutionality of one of the clauses of the Relocation Order. Specifically, that the refugees could find housing in buildings owned by private households.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The argument against the settlement of refugees in private homes was based upon the Third Amendment of the Constitution stating that “No soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.” The dissenters (mostly prominent businessmen and owners houses who were angered by some of their new ‘tenants’) argued that with the near universal conscription of refugees into work battalions, combined with the ease of volunteering and enlistment in the local militias, would cause almost any refugee to become a soldier at a moment’s notice. Thusly they could be forced quarter a soldier without their knowledge. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The large debate which broke out in the newly reinstated Supreme Court, communicating with Columbia from their bunker by means of the MARS network, was not about the constitutionality of quartering refugees in private homes but rather to what degree should break or bend the Constitution. The Justices were divided roughly in half into two groups. One group believed in a slippery slope argument that if they broke the Constitution just once, they would lay precedent that would quickly render the foundation of their country irrelevant in a matter of months. The other faction argued that the Constitution should be bent if not outright broken, and could be if the divergence was supported by one of the clauses in the first sentence: “to form a more perfect union,” “establish justice,” “ensure domestic tranquility,” “provide for the common defense,” or “promote the general welfare.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]Eventually the more conservative section, those who feared the slippery slope, won the argument in a 6-3 vote (with a last minute switch by Justice Rehnquist) favoring the private owners. The Court’s opinion clearly argued their fearful stance that “by no means, and at no time, even under a national emergency should the Constitution be ignored with such blatant disregard."
However, when official militias were established, the volunteers had to OK the decision with their landlord if they could join. The caloric bonus given to all members of a house with at least one militia member inside generally swayed the argument in favor of the militiaman. Soon private homes, and the militias were swelling with refugees.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]While the Court’s decision was the law of the land, the referendum would prove to be hard to enforce and in many places most notably in Cleveland, the Constitution would be a foggy memory of the golden days of the past.[/FONT]
[FONT="]After the relocations the next step in stemming the tide of starvation fell to the Department of Agriculture. Working closely with the Department of Housing and Relocation, they divided much of the provisional territories into agriculture districts. Agriculture districts divided the territory by a variety of attributes, including population, terrain, and water sources. The refugees were spread out in order to make the populations, and thus the calorie burdens, as fair as possible.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Agriculture would take two forms. Futilely, over the course of the next year people would plant winter wheat, corn, barley, and other grain crops in droves only to see the plantings collapse into nothingness. In many of the areas where these crops were planted, the local government planted these crops with the full knowledge that they would fail. They sought two goals, to keep the refugees busy and to preserve/experiment with forms of hand tool based agriculture that had vanished centuries ago.[/FONT]
[FONT="]However crop agriculture would survive through roots and tubers. Potato, beets, and other root crops would prove to survive the lack of sunlight better than their grain cousins. Across the continent, and the world in general, the potato became one of the few crops that grew in any quantity above the 2% survival average for domesticated crops. The potato thrived unusually well, in pre-strike conditions potatoes usually did not survive above 80 degrees Fahrenheit, rendering them a “cool weather” crop. With the layers of ash in the upper atmosphere blotting out the sun, the cool season was extended, replacing summer, allowing more areas to grow larger and healthier potato crops. As long as the top soil was properly disposed of, the potato could be grown without absorbing large amounts of radioactive strontium or cesium.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Animal agriculture, particularly smaller animals, would prove to be the growing backbone of resurgent agriculture. Chickens were the cornerstone of the new agriculture system. With a gestation period of roughly 60 days, chickens have one of the fastest generational cycles of any animal of the planet. Combined with their ability to lay dozens of eggs, which could then be fertilized and hatch new chickens, and the wide variety of farming styles, the most efficient being battery caging allows for chickens to thrive in most any situation.[/FONT]
[FONT="]As many were raised in rurally located factory farms, chicken supplies survived relatively intact and became vital to the emerging food supplies post strike. Besides chickens, other animas with low gestation periods and high litter sizes would fill the gaps left by grain based agriculture. In many areas rabbits, dogs, cats, and rats would supplement the survivors’ caloric needs. Food was food.[/FONT]
[FONT="]But the War on Starvation was not the most important war being fought in Columbia.[/FONT]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[FONT="]*
The Child Soldier wrenched the slide thingy on the side of the gun. A rusty bullet found its way into the chamber. He warily eyed the huddled masses along the far wall of the room. A pile of dirty dishes sat next to a spackle bucket filled with ... Poop. Combined with the fact that none of the Baddies had showered in days; the smell was making him want to throw up. Yet he stood guard. Like all of the troops, children or not, he wanted to follow the Colonel’s orders. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The door to the root cellar creaked slowly open. As the clomping of feet coming down the stairs grew louder the Child Soldier threw himself as tall as he could. The first rule of the Wave was “Strength through Discipline!” and he was proud of his discipline. Of himself and of the Colonel and of the food in his belly and of…[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Colonel tousled his hair as he walked past. “You’re doing great son” a warm smile broke out on the Colonel’s face. The Colonel handed the Child Soldier a small candy and motioned for the form behind him.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Militiaman stood on top of the Supermarket and looked south. As the most southern tall building in the town, he could easily see across the border into California. Peering through the binoculars he looked closely on a figure at the edge of the forest. Something about the figure puzzled him. The way he carried himself just wasn’t right. When more figures appeared out of the forest he sounded the alarm. [/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Chief of Staff was listening to the Colonel, or more aptly trying not to. She tried distracting herself by watching the Doctor working on the other people in the basement. He was currently working on MAILMAN. The old man was having a hard time, but compared to a majority of Columbians in the basement he was pretty well off. [/FONT]
[FONT="]But she couldn’t pull herself away from the Colonel. Something about his personality, his affability even with his enemies, was completely engrossing. In some other situation they could have possibly been friends, not enemies sitting across from each other in a basement. [/FONT]
[FONT="]“You see I didn’t want to end up as a dictator. One of the most important parts of my life revolved around that specific concept. Dictators are bad, they manipulate, they lie, and they steal. But somehow I find myself here. Wearing fatigues, and talking to you in a basement with people with guns following my every command. It’s surreal.[/FONT]"
[FONT="]"When I was a sophomore in Palo Alto High School, I had an unusual history teacher. He was loved by all the kids, and frankly I felt that he liked us back. He always treated us with respect and was the most lenient about rules and regulations. He always seemed to have an answer for any question. No matter how big or small he had an answer. [/FONT]"
[FONT="]"But one day he was stumped. [/FONT]"
[FONT="]"The topic of the day was Nazi Germany and we were wondering how come no one did anything about the Holocaust. Surely your average German would be horrified by the thought of slaughtering their neighbors by the millions, even if they didn’t like their beliefs.[/FONT]
[FONT="]He couldn’t tell us so he showed us. He showed us why the Germans could do it.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Militia assembled in front of the court house at the sound of the alarm. A mix of local police officers, state troopers within a few minutes’ drive, and civilians too old or too young to join the army the militia assembled as fast as possible. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The Militiamen quickly spread out among the buildings on the south edge of town. Barricading themselves behind piles of crates, boarded up windows, and pre created firing positions, their one goal was to hold the town to give the civilians time to flee. They were not there to win the battle, but to stem the defeat for as long as possible.[/FONT]
[FONT="]The figures began to attack out of the darkness, their inhuman screams echoing across the town. Firing from the hip, dozens of the bandits swarmed across the field. The Militia began to fire back. A battle had begun.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Colonel was pacing now, gesticulating wildly as he talked. His eyes grew far away.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“The teacher ran an experiment on us, the kids in his class. He started small, asking us to sit in a posture he designed. Then the rules became more dramatic. All grades in the class became a massive average. Everyone got the same grade on everything, based on the class average on the assignment. We had a salute, a slogan, a motto, and armband and soon more and more rules. Don’t rebel, don’t fight, stay calm. There were meetings for the class before and after school. Soon other kids wanted to join, we created an initiation ritual and soon more and more kids joined the experiment. And at the end of the week, what started with a class of 40 sophomores became a 200 student movement. We called ourselves the Third Wave, the strongest wave in any chain of waves on the beach. We were strong! Strength through Discipline!” [/FONT]
[FONT="]The Colonel shouted the last statement his fist bursting into the air, a smile crossing his face.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“Children from other schools would show up and ask to join or create their own chapter. It had gotten wildly out of hand. But the teacher ended the experiment. All 200 or more of us piled into the school auditorium for a rally to support a candidate for president from our movement, and then he broke the news. There was not National Third Wave movement, we had been scammed. Then he showed videos of the Third Reich, comparing what we had done over the past week to what the Nazis had done. Some of us threw up out of shock, others ran out of the auditorium crying, the counselors were trying to comfort us.”[/FONT]
[FONT="]The Colonel stopped pacing and crouched right in front of the Chief of Staff. He began to talk in an almost rhythmic conspiratorial tone.[/FONT]
[FONT="]“After that my life became boring. I was drafted and went to Vietnam. There I learned to fight, I learned to survive. Later I went into small business, I got elected to the local school board, distinguished citizen etc. I was normal. But somewhere in the back of my mind the Third Wave still sat. Waiting.[/FONT]"
[FONT="]"When the bombs fell, I was up here on vacation. In the following chaotic days I saw such horrors. Refugees fighting each other, military units killing refugees, raping and pillaging all around. There was nothing I could do. Until I came across a band of refugees, like me, alone and leaderless. [/FONT]"
[FONT="]"Then it all came back, the chants, the unity, the strength, the calm, and the community. I realized no matter how bad it was how evil we had been, we were survivors. I applied the lessons that fateful week had taught me.[/FONT]"
[FONT="]"I began small with one other refugee, the Doctor over there. And soon my band of refugees was growing. By the end of the first week I had folded a small military unit into my growing band. Within a few days we grew more and after a couple of days of fighting we had captured many of the food warehouses across the state. Refugees turned to us for help, not the assholes calling themselves the Government. They couldn’t do anything, we had the food, and following the food came guns, and with guns came order…”[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Militiaman was firing into the mass of attacking troops. They were getting closer, no matter how much he fired into the maw. With a crack in the distance the man to his left fell. An explosion went off, the roof collapsed, he fell, and all went black.[/FONT]
[FONT="]*The Colonel looked up. Someone was running down the stairs, an orderly with a message. He bent over and whispered in the Colonel’s ear.
“Good. Good.” The Colonel said softly.[/FONT]
[FONT="]To Be Continued[/FONT]