You Can Never Go Home Again

  “I don’t know,” said Turk. “Things have a way of popping up that weren’t considered.”

  “True. Unintended consequences. Turk has a point. Plans often have unforeseen difficulties. One thing is certain. We need to warn the others on the island about these slavers. And it may be one of the doctors at Busland could take out the implant.”

  “Take out my implant? Is that possible?”

  “You described it as attaching to what seems to be the brain stem. The more I think on it the more I realize how difficult the procedure would be. I’m not sure…I think it would be even more risky…” Jonathan left the thought unfinished.

  It was hard for him to suggest that Kookli be bait. It could cost her her life. Also, it would mean he might have to kill one of the slaves and that was something he definitely wanted to avoid.

  “What would be the risks from the surgery?”

  “Ah, a slip could cause paralysis which would be permanent. Also the possibility of death. The problem is the brain and the nerves are very fragile with no margin for error. One mishap…and the doctors haven’t the facilities to really know what they are facing. No CAT scan or MRI. They would be going in blind.”

  The three of them just sat quietly mulling over the options. Jonathan was wondering who should go warn the others. Also, if Kookli was to travel to any settled area then she would be endangering those she was amongst. That should be considered as well.

  “Would it be helpful,” asked Turk, “to have one of the implants on hand so the doctors could examine it.”?

  “Yeah, that probably would be helpful. But where are you…?”

  “I’ll go back and take out the implants from the two dead slav…workers.”

  “Oooh, I don’t know…”

  “I have been thinking,” said Kookli. “I think the first plan by Jonathan should be tried.”

  “But Kookli if something should go wrong…”

  “The slave master won’t stop until I am caught. They are probably on there way here right now.”

  “Kookli…maybe if we think some more on it we can…”

  “It is either that or I must leave you. You two are in danger…”

  “Oh no! We couldn’t let you do that. Tell her Jonathan. She can’t go off by herself.” Turk was wringing his hands and beside himself with worry.

  “Turk’s right Kookli. We wouldn’t feel right allowing you to leave and face two armed slaves without our help.”

  “You earthmen are…I do not think even my father would say anything so kind. To place yourselves in such danger.”

  “Therefore, I will remain and I should be…what is the word?”

  “Bait,” said Turk with a groan. “You would be bait.”

  “Then, as you say, it’s settled.”

  “Kookli. Show us how to use those ray guns.”

  “And Jonathan…”

  “Yes, Turk?”

  “It’s not shot or beamed. It’s blast.”

  “Blast?”

  “Yeah, blast as in “I’ll blast those slavers.””

  “Who’s been watching too much TV?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Caw. Caw.”

  Jonathan and Kookli heard the signal from Turk. It was early morning and the sun was just establishing itself.

  A silver lining to the pole shift and the change in the inclination of the planet. Not only had there been an increase in the daylight hours due to less inclination which widened the temperate zones but the meteor hits also slowed down the rotation. The day was longer. This should give the three the time they needed to complete their plans.

  Turk came scrambling down the vale slope. He was winded and Jonathan knew it was more from anxiety than exertion.

  “They’re coming along the trail as you thought Jonathan…”

  “Turk what kind of bird was that?”

  “It was a crow’s call…it wasn’t that bad. Anyway the two slav…workers didn’t take any notice. They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”

  Jonathan turned to Kookli, “you sure you can turn on the music…?”

  “Yes, yes Jonathan. I can do it…how do you say, during my sleep time?”

  “Something like that. So you’re sure…?”

  “Yes. You had me do it blind folded so I will have no trouble with my eyes open. Do not fret.”

  “Okay, to our places.”

  The waiting wasn’t long enough thought Jonathan. Here they were. Two aliens dressed just like the others they had seen. Jonathan wasn’t sure if they were clones of the two dead slaves they looked so much alike.

  The two slaves went into the vale in single file. They looked neither left nor right. They did not look to see if an ambush was laying in wait for them. They did not talk. Just walked past the hidden Jonathan and Turk. They walked into Turk’s camp. Kookli punched the ON button on the radio and static burst forth. Loud static. The two slaves stopped. They stood erect. Standing still. Mild head movement and blinking eyes only.

  Kookli then switched the button to play music and the two slaves began moving but slower. She switched back to the radio and static once more was heard. The two slaves again stopped dead in their tracks.

  Jonathan and Turk came out of hiding holding the ray guns out and pointing at the two slaves. They walked right behind the slaves.

  “Turk I’m going to go around to the front. Keep your gun on the rear one and I’ll take the front one.”

  The two slaves did not seem to notice Jonathan speaking. Jonathan walked to the front his ray gun trained on the first slave. The slave just stood there. Didn’t acknowledge Jonathan in the slightest. Jonathan walked back to the rear and hooked the gun on his belt. He brought out a sock filled with sand and packed hard at the toe and half of the foot.

  Jonathan looked at Turk, “you want the first swing?”

  Turk shook his head.

  “Here goes.”

  Jonathon swung the makeshift sap and connected right above and slightly behind the right ear of the second slave. The slave went down in a heap.

  “Turk you tie him up. I’ll take the other one.” Jonathan wanted to tell the mystery writer and pulp historian Bill Lorazini about this. Jonathan had a passion for mysteries especially the hard-boiled detective pulps from the thirties. Being sapped was par for the course in those stories and Jonathan thought he had remembered how best to apply a knockout blow. He had indeed remembered well. One thing Jonathan also knew was that someone who was knocked unconscious didn’t stay unconscious for long; definitely not like the movies.

  In real life it sometimes took only seconds for the unconscious person to regain some awareness if not downright consciousness. Prezlee, who grew up in a violent area of Baltimore called, Pig Town, knew about fighting.

  Not even George Foreman or Mike Tyson could knock anyone out for much more than a ten count. Yet, the ability to stand after being kayoed didn’t necessarily mean the losing fighter was one hundred percent in the here and now.

  So Jonathan and Turk trussed up the two slaves. The slave’s feet and hands were bound with duct tape and some hemp rope. The slaves’ eyes were covered so they couldn’t see. Jonathan wasn’t taking any chances that the slave master could learn anything from these two slaves.

  Turk had charged up the battery during the night so it would play the static for several hours. He also charged up the small rechargeable batteries for the small portable radio that Kookli would use. It should give the three a good head start.

  Turk’s itinerary was to find the two dead slaves and retrieve (and Jonathan shivered at the image of the retrieval of) the implants from the corpses. Then follow Jonathan and Kookli first to Camp Ma then on to Busland. Jonathan was glad Turk had volunteered as he didn’t think he could do the implant removal.

  Turk had a small radio with extra batteries for Kookli to use. Turk thought with continual playing they should have at least six or seven hours of static. This should be able to mask their movement until evening when they should
be in Busland.

  Jonathan planned to reach Camp Ma and warn those there of the aliens then take Keoni’s canoe and reach Busland early in the evening and warn the community of the aliens in the cove.

  The hike to Camp Ma would also give Jonathan a chance to ask Kookli about these humans. They hadn’t had the time to explore this. Now he would have several hours. He felt it imperative after seeing the murder of Kookli’s mother to have concrete information to give to the community. This was clearly a momentous threat and good decisions were essential to ensure survival from slavery or death.

  >

  The locale of the northern tip of Vancouver Island has no roads but Turk knew the region quite well. Jonathan had learned it from wandering around these past many months. Fortunately there were numerous trails so the trekking was not too difficult. The highest elevation was probably no more than eight or nine hundred feet. Therefore, obvious barriers were not difficult to overcome.

  Turk had a small radio which used rechargeable batteries and gave it to Kookli to use. It was an encumbrance as Kookli would have to hold it in a fairly stable position near her ear. This obviously hindered her in hiking when they had to go over uneven ground or areas which had fallen trees. The batteries would last four or five hours Turk thought. Time enough to get to Camp Ma with time left over for canoe trip to Busland.

  Turk insisted Kookli not accompany him to her former hideout since it may be known to the boss slaver. As the three were going in the general direction for awhile they traveled together weapons in their hands.

  “Jonathan can you tell me about this concept you call democracy?”

  “Well, there are differences in each country but in my country it was meant to give people the right to make the important choices in their lives free from coercion. To elect representatives to help maintain the protections and opportunities for the citizens.”

  “And it works well?”

  “Not so well anymore.”

  “Why is that Jonathan?”

  “It’s a long winded story in some respects but when big business was allowed to control who gets elected the politicians promoted protections of big business and the wealthy at the expense of everyone else. Once big business got control of the economy most people suffered.”

  “Why did the people elect leaders who would make things worse for them?”

  “A very good question. In the sixties and seventies us Americans had the greatest standard of living in the history of civilization. At the conclusion of the seventies an actor named Reagan was elected and systematically destroyed all that. His aim was to eliminate the middle class, enlarge the working class, and minimize or eliminate union strength which protected people. He was successful in all endeavors. The middle class shrunk from nearly sixty percent to under thirty percent.”

  “Ray gun? Why was a ray gun elected?”

  “Spelled differently but pronounced in a similar manner. It was with ray gun efficiency that he attacked our protections and opportunities.”

  “He did such a bad job,” said Turk, “that he was elected for a second term.”

  “Jonathan is that true?”

  “Yes and no. The term is for four years so the worst of his consequences didn’t really start to affect us until after he was out of office. That was at the end of his second term. The next president was for one term because of the economy which Reagan had purposely ruined.”

  “Sadly, the worst of it was Reagon was a traitor to the country to get elected in the first place.”

  “Oh c’mon. Where’d you get that idea?”

  “Reagan barely won the first election and it was the hostages in the country of Iran that gave him the little extra he needed. Iran, Kookli, was hostile to us because we installed a dictator there after our government allowed oil companies to promote a coup which abolished their democracy.”

  “So?”

  “Eventually this dictatorship was overthrown by religious fanatics. Reagan’s people made a deal with the new leader, Kookli.

  “And where did you come by this information,” asked Turk while rolling his eyes though neither Jonathan nor Kookli could have seen that in the darkness.

  “The guy who brokered the deal wrote a book about it.”

  “And maybe that guy isn’t a credible witness.”

  “Well, he’s probably not that credible actually. But the second piece of the puzzle was the Iran-Contra affair. It was unconstitutional, against my country’s highest law Kookli, but the Reaganites had to repay the Iranians so they tried to go through with an arms deal by using guerrillas, that is killers or murderers, our government called the Contras.”

  Turk turned to Jonathan, “I remember that. It was big news in Canada.”

  “Jonathan what happened to this Reagan?”

  “After he died he was deified by the right-wing ideologues.”

  “Don’t you think calling him deified is going too far?”

  “At the 2004 Republican National Convention his portrait was directly behind the dais and it had to be at least forty feet high or more. Just like Hitler and Stalin and all the other deified dictators. The real tragedy was that none of the republicans saw this as untoward and no political pundit made mention of it.”

  “Did not any one protest?”

  “Sure but not enough. With Friedman economic policies, called Reaganomics, more small businesses went bankrupt and more small farms foreclosed in Reagan’s eight years than during the worst depression in our country’s history. A depression Reagan himself lived through. Talk about irony.”

  “This is where,” Turk said, “we separate. I’ll probably only be a couple of hours behind you but don’t wait for me. Get Kookli to Busland. Maybe someone there can help her.”

  “Listen Turk. Do not and I repeat do not take any chances. If anything is wrong then come to Camp Ma straight away.”

  “Sure, sure. I’ll be fine.”

  Jonathan thought about stressing caution again since they had no knowledge what these slavers could do other than a willingness to murder. Without qualms. But he didn’t want to nag. Turk had spent much time hiding from police and others while growing his marijuana so caution should be second nature to him.

  Jonathan and Kookli said their good-byes. They turned south as Turk headed northeast.

  Jonathan liked having an audience especially one which would listen and question rather than argue and interrupt with heated denials and denunciations as most Americans who supported the right-wing agenda did. Americans had a real difficulty in allowing anyone to finish sentences let alone statements one should discuss.

  Americans never seemed to debate anymore. The right-wing could not hope to win any serious debate which was probably why there were no serious debates. On more than one occasion Jonathan wondered how could a democracy hope not only to survive but to grow and develop if real debate didn’t occur?

  This was also a legacy of Reagan Jonathan felt. The right-wing ideologues learned several important things when Reagan was governor of California, one of fifty states Jonathan told Kookli, which made up the union.

  As governor Reagan sponsored what became known as the ‘no-knock bill.’ This was legislation which would allow police officers to just walk into any dwelling or residence without knocking. No need for probable cause or any reason.

  What wounded the Reaganites’ psyche was not only did most of the newspapers, this was before the cable and other TV news outlets had taken the power of news reporting from the print media he explained, but even conservatives, then the backbone of the Republican Party, realized this as a breach of the constitution.

  The Reaganites learned one, you don’t need to change the law to change the intent or effectiveness of the law; just change the institution. And two, get control of the media.

  By controlling the media the right-wing would never have to explain their actions. The Reaganites’ campaign philosophy in running Reagan for president was lowbrow but effective. They developed the diatribe of quick sound
bytes instead of debating. They were tremendously successful in marginalizing the opposition by calling them liberals as a pejorative and even condensing it to the ‘L word’ as un-American and vulgar.

  Jonathan explained to Kookli as long as big business had the same rights as citizens but not the responsibilities or consequences then the right-wing ideologues are the victors and they will eventually create a dictatorship, they’ll call it authoritarian, of their dreams.

  He hoped that once the world deals with this slaver the survivors of the catastrophe will commit to strong democracies when they restart their cultures and governments to protect their cultures. He had no idea how naïve that would be.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Hey bruddah. Good to see you,” Keoni called out. “Who’s da wahine?”

  It was well after noon but not yet evening. Keoni was preparing for the next morning fishing. He sat on a log and was at work on the seine when Jonathan and Kookli tramped into Camp Ma. Keoni gave Jonathan a big hug and Hawaiian handshake and shook Kookli’s hand as well. Gently. Her hand looked like a child’s hand in his.

  “I see you one find what you’re looking for but what about da aliens?”

  “I found them as well.”

  “No kiddin’ brah?”

  “No kidding Keoni. Have some bad news.”

  “How bad…what is it?”

  “Let’s wait until everyone is here…”

  “EV-RY ONE CUM HEAH.” Jonathan feared Keoni would be heard at the cove up north. “Now we wait brah.”

  They didn’t have to wait very long. Keoni’s two sons were first out of their shelter. They were excited. Anytime Keoni raised his voice something was in the offing.

  Next to come out was Hawk. “What’s the matter? What’s going…oh, Jonathan. Nice to see you…why Keoni did you have to bellow? We coulda…what’s wrong?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “Well, you were right Hawk. There are aliens at the cove.”

  “Damn. Told you. Are they peaceful? What do they look like? Who’s this? And why is she playing static on that little radio?”

  “All good questions and if I can remember them all I’ll answer them. But let’s wait until everyone is…”

  “EV-RY ONE CUM HEAH.”

  “Shouldn’t be long now,” Jonathan said as he uncovered his ears.