I threw back the bed covers and ran to the window, thrusting it open, waiting… watching… listening. Silence and darkness greeted me as I stuck my
head out of the bedroom window into the cool, damp spring night air. I stood there scanning up and down Summerset Street, waiting for the first signs
of recognition to the call for action. Silence, dear God, there was nothing but maddening silence that seemingly turned seconds into minutes and
minutes into hours. Waiting. Watching. Listening.
I dare not be the first. My part in all of this would be played out at a later date. I simply dare not be the first, for I knew what most did
“I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore”, the rallying cry of the news caster, was a rouse. The trusted news caster
seemingly getting irate on TV, urging everyone to throw off apathy and move into action was nothing more than a paid actor. The plan, nick named
“First Wave”, was to get the everyday average Joe whipped up into taking action forcing them into the open without thinking of the possible
consequences. But I knew… dear Lord… I knew.
As I continued to stand there scanning up and down the still silent and dark suburban neighborhood street, it was with a sense of relief that thus far
no one had taken up the call to action.. These were my neighbors, my friends. These people with whom I’ve shared backyard barbeques, good times,
bad times, accomplishments and defeats were good hard working folks, the backbone of this country really.
I hated myself for what I knew would happen to them if they decided to take the action they were being urged to do but I tried to warn them. I tried
so hard. Is their silence an acknowledgement that they heard my thinly veiled attempts in the past to save them from what I knew was coming? “Oh
please” I said in a barely audible whisper, “Oh please let it be they heard and finally understood that I was not some tin foil hat wearing
nutcase”. And then it started to happen.
Soft light began appearing from living room windows, bedroom windows and front porches up and down Summerset Street. Next came the sound of windows
being flung open, soon followed by the first cries of “I’m mad as hell…..”. First one voice then another joined and another until the silence
of the night was shattered with the sounds of descent. They started pouring into the streets still attempting to wrangle on overcoats and robe’s
over their night clothes all the while their chant growing louder, more urgent, more angry and more in sync with each other. It was this sudden
blinding anger ‘they’ were counting on. The rouse worked.
“NNNOOOOOO” I screamed in silence as the reality of the situation that I had played out many times in my head hit me full force freezing me
solidly in place, unable to move. It was not until I heard the troops spring into action from their well hidden locations that I myself was able to
move once again.
I quickly left my perch at the window and grabbed the “disposable” cell phone I had purchased a while back just for the possibility of this day
actually happening. There was only one other person who knew the number and as of yet he had not called. I flew down the stairs as fast as my legs
would carry me. Thank heavens I had practiced this ad nauseum in the dark so my route would be second nature to me, no second guessing, less chance
of a misstep or injury along the way.
I threw open the door to the coat closet remembering to close it behind me. I suspected I had about 10 minutes before the door to door searches would
begin in an attempt to round up the rest of us who had perhaps not yet been awake enough to join the rally in the streets. Tossing the winter coats
aside I tripped the switch to the hidden door and slipped inside, hoping that the mechanism I had rigged would slide the coats back into place when
the hidden door was closed behind me. I moved deftly and with lightning speed preparing for what I knew my next step would be.
I was just adjusting the straps on the backpack when the phone vibrated in my pocket. Flipping it open the message simply read “Prepare 2nd wave.
Meet at rally point #3”. Tossing the phone to the floor and driving the heel of my boot into it crushing it to bits, I hesitated only long enough
to say a silent prayer for my friends and neighbors, who after months and months of trying to educate them as to what was coming chose to ignore me.
“Don’t lose hope my friends, I will return with help. We know where they will be taking you and by hook or by crook…we will do what we can to
save you because we are also mad as hell… we are refusing to ‘take it anymore’ and we refuse to give up”. And with that I headed off down the
dark secret tunnel on my way to join with the 2nd wave.
edit on 1-5-2012 by MyMindIsMyOwn because: (no reason given)