This story is a continuation of the tale started here. You may wish to read part one before beginning part two. The link will open in a new window/tab.

Tabitha Spearman, aka Tabs, sat in the home of her friend and protector, Taylor, watching the day’s events on television. She rarely went out during the day any more. She was too well known, her picture having become a fixture on local news casts. When she did dare to go out, it was only to exchange valuable information with others in the Occupy resistance. Tabs had taken to wearing darker make-up and giant X’s over her eyes as a symbol of the fact she was a marked person. Anyone who was seen with her was likely to become a target of the Republican Guard.

Over a month had passed since her friend Dig had become victim of a sniper’s rifle while hiding Tabs. Dig’s sister, Taz, had then taken off into the dark, bent on achieving his revenge. Taz had blown up the entire block on which Dig had lived, and then disappeared, popping back up occasionally to commit random acts of violence against the Guard. So far, she had taken out more than 200 of them, which made her a hero to those in the resistance.

In response, however, the Republican Guard had attempted to tighten its hold on the city.  Communication of any kind, whether cell phone, text, email or other Internet messaging, was all being monitored carefully. Anyone caught making “divisive or derogatory statements” was subject to arrest, a sham of a trial, and execution for treason. Occupy Guerrilla Fighters had become very adept at utilizing signal scrambling techniques and developing new technologies to keep the Guard at bay.  The greater danger came from Guard infiltrators and informants, people who would pretend to be on the side of the Occupy resistance, but would consistently feed information, names, and addresses to the Guard.

Still, the Occupy forces had seen considerable gains over the past few weeks. Not a single ammunition supply convoy had made it through without being disrupted and largely demolished. Guard forces were running low on ammo, which had resulted in them dropping a number of shoot-first-ask-questions-later orders. Occupy fighters had also managed to hack the Guard’s communications thoroughly. Not a move was made, nor order given, without Occupy having at least a few minutes warning. The biggest challenge now was that the Guard had gone old school, using encrypted messages hand delivered by courier to relay their orders. Couriers were difficult to spot and had grown quite effective.

As Tabs watched TV, she was especially interested in a charity marathon that was supposed to take place that day. Both Guard forces and the Democratic government had encouraged participation in the run, wanting to maintain the appearance that everything was normal and there was no reason to be afraid. While people were generally regarding this apparent truce between the opposing sides as an excuse to party, Occupy leaders were quietly concerned, suspecting a trap on one side or the other. Similar runs were being held in other major cities across the country and Federal troop movement had increased significantly toward those cities. Some speculated that troops were mobilizing to counter a Guard attack. Others questioned just how far Federal troops could be trusted themselves. One thing certain is that Occupy leaders trusted neither side and had made sure they would have several people placed as runners who would be armed and ready to respond should the need arise.

The run started normally enough. “Celebrity” runners, local television and radio personalities who did their best to remain neutral in the war, went first, eliciting cheers from the crowds as they passed, followed by the competitive runners who were using the event as a chance to train for upcoming marathons.  Finally, the masses were turned loose and they took to the streets whooping, yelling and cheering, despite cold temperatures and gray skies that threatened rain. Tabs had wanted to run. Not six months ago, she would have been at the front of the pack, her custom-designed shoes on her feet, various monitors plugged in to monitor her heart rate, respiration, and speed. Running was one of her favorite activities. But everyone had agreed that for her to appear in public like that would make everyone around her a target … or a terrorist. She watched the runners longingly.

Horror struck less than half a mile from the finish line. The local celebrities and lead runners were already finished, the first of the pack runners were within sight. No one saw from where the bullets came, but their aim was true. With each crack of a rifle, another runner fell. Almost immediately, runners began screaming, turning to run against the stream, resulting in a horrible bottle neck. At that moment, the entire street exploded, the blood and bodies of hundreds of runners and spectators strung across lawns and houses for several blocks.

Tabs couldn’t help but scream as she watched. Television producers instantly switched from local coverage, only to find similar carnage taking place in every city where the run was taking place. The Republican Guard had decided to use the run as a show of force and had surrounded runners with armored vehicles which were now moving across the race path, crushing and killing everyone they could see. In each city, thousands of innocent people died within a matter of minutes.

Federal troops responded for the first time with surprising force. Rolling with their own tanks and troops, under the cover of armed air drones, they quickly took on the Republican Guard with a force the war had not previously seen. The Guard had no choice but to drop its assault and take cover. They did not have sufficient ammunition to fight a prolonged battle against the Federal troops; their only hope was to run and hide.

Occupy fighters were surprised by the ferociousness of the Guard’s initial attack, and several of them had been among the first killed. Those remaining had responded as best they could, trying to move innocent runners, especially parents with small children in tow, out of the way of  the booming canons and grenades. More difficult was trying to match crying children with lost parents. There were too many cases where the parents were presumed to be among the remains of those blown to pieces by the explosion.

All Tabs could do was sit on the couch and cry

text continued below

Chaos reigned for the next several days as Federal troops mercilessly pounded the Republican Guard. Across the nation, over 190,ooo people were reported killed in what was now being called the Marathon Massacre. Democrats were attempting to round up Republican leaders with plans to hold them legally accountable for the murders, which would inevitably mean the death penalty for the once-proud men and women who had occupied high seats in Congress. Before long, the once-defiant Republican Guard was every bit as underground as were the Occupy forces.

Publicly, the Democrats were saying they would hold both Republican and Occupy leaders responsible for any crimes they committed. However, federal troops were quite willing to let Occupy fighters operate freely in disturbing Republican ammo movements and disrupting the Guard’s attempt to re-organize itself. The Occupy leadership still regarded the Federal troops with considerable caution, but were happy to have a sense that they were at least careful allies against the Guard.

Tabs had grown busy helping Taylor find new homes for the dozens of orphans they had brought in after the massacre. Many of the children were under two years old and Tabs found it heart-wrenching to let them go, not knowing for sure whether they were giving them to good homes. Resources such as diapers and infant clothing were scarce, and space was definitely an issue. There wasn’t sufficient time to go through extensive psychiatric tests and background checks. She knew that, statistically, they were almost inevitably giving children to people who had to business attempting to raise them, but at the same time there was no way they could sufficiently care for the little ones and still devote the necessary time and energy to keeping the Guard at bay.

In the midst of all the turmoil, Tabs had discovered her heart was still very much alive and beating, thanks in part to the presence of a new Occupy fighter named Carbon Griggs. Carb, as he was known, had been one of the runners who had miraculously managed to survive and had been responsible for saving a large number of the children they had hosted. Throughout the ordeal, he was a constant presence of caring and kindness, traits that were not lost on Tabs or anyone else. While Carb had yet to speak directly with Tabs except when asking for diapers or formula, the way he smiled at her across the room never failed to make her heart leap. On one level, Tabs didn’t care if anything ever came of this casual encounter or not; she was glad to know that her body could still respond to romance when it dared pass through her life. At the same time, though, it had been months now since she had known the company of anything other than her own coat. To be touched by someone who was not actively trying to kill her would be a most welcome change.

After handing off the last of the orphans to adoptive parents, Tabs disguised her look and slipped out to The Crying Walrus, a once active night club that now served primarily as the preferred drinking spot of Occupy leaders. Tabs had been pushing herself constantly since the massacre and she was desperate for friendly, understanding faces, a good cocktail, and perhaps a little inside information on the angel Carb. This was the first time Tabs had risked going out in public at all since the Guard had been driven underground. She was still very nervous as to who might be watching her, and with good reason. Underground didn’t mean the Republicans were gone, or were any less ferocious in their attacks. If one of them discovered her, there would be no escape.

Pulling up a stool to the bar, Tabs was greeted by a genial bartender known only as Happy. Happy at been bartender at the Walrus long before the war, and was resolute that he would still be there after all the trouble passed. The tears he had tattooed on his face were, he said, for all the people who had been given a chance to love him and turned away. Rumor was, though, that in his younger days Happy had killed his abusive parents in their sleep and had done time for their murders. Of course, no one was going to risk actually asking if the rumor was true. Happy poured a good, strong drink and was always ready with a joke, even if it was not a particularly good one.

“What do you know, Happy? Got something special for me today?” Tabs asked as she plopped herself onto the bar stool.

“I know there’s a limit to just how helpful alcohol can be,” Happy said, his sly grin insinuating there was a story to follow.

“And tell me just how you know that,” Tabs said, smiling back.

“This guy comes in here yesterday and orders a double-martini. Not that unusual, you know. So I make him a martini and he sits there and downs it in a few minutes. When his glass is empty, he looks inside his shirt pocket for a moment, and then orders another double-martini. I fixed him the second drink and he chats nicely like most anyone else while he drinks that one. Then, he looks in his shirt pocket again, and then orders another drink. I tell him, ‘Look, fella, I don’t mind pouring you drinks all night long, but you gotta tell me why you keep looking in your shirt pocket before you order another one.’ Do you know what he said?”

Tabs giggled. “I’ve no idea. What?”

“He said, ‘I have a picture of my wife in that pocket and when I’m drunk enough that she starts looking good I know it’s safe to go home.”

Tabs laughed out loud. “How many drinks did it take?”

Happy grinned. “I don’t know. He passed out after the ninth martini. He’s still sleeping it off in the back room!”

The girl laughed again. “God, I hope I never get stuck in a relationship like that.”

Happy finished pouring and set a Manhattan in front of Tabs before filling his own glass as well. “Girl, sometimes you’re so desperate for a relationship, any kind of a relationship, that you’re willing to put up with a fair amount of ugly just to feel that someone out there wants and needs you and is glad to see you walk through the door at the end of the day.”

“Yeah, there’s certainly a limited number of people who would be happy to see me walking through their door right about now,” Tabs sighed.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, dear,” Happy replied. “I think there are a number of Republican Guards who would be thrilled to have you walk through their door.”

Tabs winced as Happy laughed at his own humor. “Yeah, but I don’t think a long-term relationship is what they have in mind,” she said.

“It’s tough to love someone with a bounty on their head,” Happy said, still chuckling, “And it’s not like you’ve exactly put yourself out there as being on the market, in that sense.”

“I know,” Tabs said as she leaned against the bar. “Still, it would be nice to at least have someone friendly to slide into bed with at the end of the day.”

“The thing about war,” Happy said as he poured himself another drink, “Is you never really know who your friends are until it’s all over.”

“What do you mean?” Tabs asked.

“Well, it’s kinda like, this,” Happy said, taking a drink before beginning his story, “ One night, a cop was stalking out a  bar for possible DUI violations. At closing time, he saw a fellow stumble out of the bar, trip on the curb, and try his keys on five different cars before he found his. Then, sat in the front seat fumbling around with his keys for several minutes. Everyone left the bar and drove off. Finally, he started his engine and began to pull away. The cop was waiting for him. He stopped the driver, read him his rights and gave him a Breathalyzer test. The results showed a reading of 0.0. The cop demanded to know how that could be. The driver replied, ‘Tonight, I’m the Designated Decoy.’”

Tabs laughed. “Yeah, I sure there are a lot of decoys out here, especially ones looking to hang my pelt on the back of their door.”

“You know it, sweetheart,” Happy said. “You’re not looking at anyone serious, are you?”

“Well, there’s this one guy …” Tabs started.

Happy rolled his eyes dramatically. “Of course, the pretty girl always has her eye on a guy.”

Tabs smiled and blushed a bit. “Carb seems nice. We’ve just not had a chance to talk. And now that all the kids are gone, I’m not sure whether he’ll even be back.”

Happy’s face grew serious. “Wait, you aren’t talking about Carb Griggs, are you?”

“Yes, do you know him?” Tabs noticed the difference in Happy’s tone.

“Not directly, but his father was a long-time precinct captain for the Republican Party,” Happy said. “He was one of those who helped plan this damn war.”

“Was?” Tabs questioned.

“Yeah … you remember that raid on City Hall?”

“Sure, I wrote about it! The Guard were absolutely vicious in that attack! I wrote about it more than once!”

“Uh-huh … and your blog resulted in a raid on the Guard by OGF.”

“Why don’t I suddenly get the feeling I’m not going to like how this story ends?”

Happy took another drink. “I’m not saying it was your fault, of course, but Carb’s Dad was killed in that raid. If he’s showing up at Taylor’s house, I don’t care what the circumstances, you both need to be careful.”

Tabs suddenly felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had a couple more sips from her drink then slipped out the back door and headed back to Taylor’s. If they were in danger, he needed to know just as much as she did.

The dark of twilight made it easier for Tabs to slip through the streets and alleys without being noticed, so she was able to get back to Taylor’s much more quickly than the trip to the bar had been. She was surprised, though, when she opened the door and found Carb sitting on the sofa laughing with Taylor.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Taylor said. “How was the Walrus?”

“Pretty good,” Tabs said carefully. “Hey, I found out something I need to clear with you,” she said toward Taylor, motioning for him to join her.

Taylor followed Tabs to the kitchen anxious for whatever information she had found. Tabs was a good reporter, which also made her an excellent spy. Any information she uncovered tended to be pretty reliable. “What’s up?” he asked once they were alone.

“Do you know who that is sitting in your living room?” Tabs asked, her alarm evident.

“Sure! That’s Carb Griggs! He’s been helping us with the orphans for the past month! Why?” Taylor wasn’t sure whether to be exasperated or amused by Tabs’ concern.

“Yes, but do you know who his father was?” Tabs pushed.

Taylor smiled. “So that’s what this is about. Yes, I know who his father was. The moment he showed up at our door, I was worried that we’d been compromised. Don’t worry, he’s a good guy.” Taylor paused, then added, “And he’s been asking a lot of questions about you, too. I think the boy may be smitten.”

Tabs blushed. “What’s he saying?” she asked, feeling very much like a school girl.

“Wanting to know if you’re seeing anyone,” Taylor said, “Between homicidal mercenary missions, of course,” he added, laughing.

Tabs punched Taylor in the arm. “You’re worse than a brother.”

Taylor grinned. “Get back in there and let him ask you out. Probably do you both some good.”

Sure enough, Tabs had hardly sat down on the opposite end of the couch before Carb was asking her to join him for dinner the next night. “Uhm, you do realized I’m rather wanted? I can’t exactly go wandering around town having a good time.”

“I know,” Carb said. “I thought I’d just fix us a nice dinner and maybe we could watch an old movie or something at my place. You know, just give you a change of scenery for an evening. I don’t know how you stand being around Taylor all the time anyway.”

Taylor and Tabs both laughed. A time was arranged when Carb would drop by and help Tabs make the covert journey over to his house, and before she knew it Tabs was sitting on the couch all dressed up and waiting, feeling more nervous than she had in a very long time.

Carb had said he’d be there at 6:30, just before sunset, but Tabs was ready at 5:30, just in case. Anxiously, she waited, looking carefully out the window, jumping at every sound. She and Taylor had gone over all the possible scenarios. “What if we get attacked between here and there?” “What if he gets me over there and turns out to be not such a nice guy?” “What if we end up falling in love?”

“The first two I have under control,” Taylor said. “Don’t think for a moment that the two of you will ever be alone. You won’t. You’re too valuable a resource for me to let you out without some precaution. As for the falling in love part, though … you’re pretty much on your own there.”

Tabs didn’t even know why she was bringing up the question; it wasn’t like they had even talked that much. Thinking about love was definitely premature. There was no way he would even bring up the topic on a first date. She wouldn’t need to worry about it. He might not even want a second date.

But, Carb did want a second date, and then a third. By the fourth, there was little doubt that they were beyond enamored with each other. Carb became an active part of the resistance and was very instrumental in intercepting Guard couriers and breaking their cipher codes. Tabs could feel herself falling hard for this boy, and he was falling equally hard for her.

Not everyone was pleased with their pairing. From the back room of the Crying Walrus, Happy dialed a number on what he had been told was a secure line. When the phone was answered, he asked gruffly, “I thought you said Carb Griggs was secure?”

“Of course he is,” said the voice on the other end. “He’s still hot about avenging his Dad’s death.”

“Then, care to explain what he’s doing dating Tabitha Spearman?”

The other end was quiet for a while, then answered, “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. Carb is one of ours.”

Happy hung up the phone and swallowed hard. God, he hated war.

To be continued