299 Days: The Stronghold Read Free Page A

“No hearsay testimony, but other than that, we have simple, common-sense trials so we find out what happened and people can understand what we’re doing and why.” This is how Grant thought the justice system should be. It was how it used to be before a billion lawyers and bureaucrats created a zillion laws that no one could possibly understand.
    Grant said, “We have a chance to start over with a new justice system. A tiny little justice system here at Pierce Point. It will be opposite of all the corrupt shit I saw in the old government’s system. We will build the new system our way, the fair way, guided directly by the Constitution. People will see that Patriots have a better system and will gravitate toward it.”
    “Exactly,” Rich said, feeling the Pendleton in him. “We’re decent to people, we solve problems, we’re Patriots—pretty soon, everyone will want to be a Patriot,” he said with a big grin. He and Grant were on the same page. Thank God.
    Grant was thinking about the other parts of governing other than the justice system. They had the medical down: Lisa, the nurses, and EMT would provide free services. Donations were encouraged, but they wouldn’t turn anyone away.
    “What about taxes?” Grant asked.
    “Taxes?” Rich asked. “Are you crazy?”
    “No, not taxes like the government has been doing,” Grant said. “‘Taxes’ was a poor choice of words. I mean, how do people contribute for what they’re getting, like the security? How do we keep the things we are doing for people going?” He made a mental note to never use the word “taxes” again.
    “I dunno,” said Rich. “No one has any money; we couldn’t spend it on anything, anyway, and I ain’t asking anyone for their money.”
    “No,” Grant said, “I mean people should give things to the effort. Whatever they can spare. Nothing formal, but I’d like a way to prevent slackers from just leaching off of the rest of us. You know—all the leaching that got us in the situation we’re in.” Grant decided against it, but wanted to say, “Don’t kid yourself. We’re in a rural semi-self-reliant area, but there are plenty of welfare shitbags out here, too. Like everywhere in America.”
    Both Rich and Grant were quiet for a minute, thinking. Nothing was coming to mind.
    Rich spoke. “Maybe we keep it pretty informal. We just mentally keep track of who is contributing. Maybe we worry about it if we don’t have enough to feed the guards.”
    Mentally keeping track of things wasn’t good enough. Grant said, “We could keep a formal record of what people are contributing and give them public acknowledgment for it. Encourage good behavior. My father-in-law, Drew, is a former accountant. He’s inventorying things for us on Over Road. He could keep track of things people donate.”
    Rich said, “Hey, my wife is a bookkeeper. She and Drew could keep track of who’s contributing and what they’re providing. I like the idea of rewarding good behavior.”
    “If supplies get tight,” Grant said, knowing that they would, “we can look at who’s not carrying their weight and decide what to do. Of course, we will take care of the old, disabled, and those who can’t take care of themselves. But able-bodied freeloaders will be a problem. Those contributing will be pissed at them, but I’m not sure how we can cut people off of security services or medical care. That’s a community-wide thing. Maybe there will be other things we can offer to people and withhold from non-contributors.” It sounded cruel, but this was a survival situation.
    Rich thought some more. “You know, I bet a lot of this works itself out. I know most of the people out here. They will share with neighbors and work to help each other, for the most part. They’ve had to do this over the past few years with the economy.”
    Rich paused and looked at Grant. “You know, most people are still pretty decent. A few aren’t. We let the majority work together