Resistance

 

I wasn’t the first to join the Resistance when the changes came. I’m not a political person. I’m just a mail carrier. I never saw it coming. I don’t think anyone did. I don’t even know what happened or how. I’ve only been able to piece things together from rumors and scraps of information whispered under cover of darkness.

What I’m sure of is that it was a Tuesday, just before dawn, when the grid went down. Power, internet, communications, it all went down together. I’ve heard stories of explosions at data centers and communications hubs, power stations disabled. It seemed coordinated. I wish I knew more; maybe I could give you a better sense of what happened. I still can’t believe it all collapsed so easily. I guess I’ve always lived with some false sense of the permanence of things. Sure, I knew there were crazies out there, fanatics. I used to see them as I surfed past the evening news. But I never imagined the whole system could come crashing down around us so quickly, so completely, with nothing more than a whimper.

People went crazy. By the time the sun went down that first night, there was looting and chaos. I kept waiting for the police, the army, for somebody to show up and restore order. Nobody came. After a week I heard the rumors about the Capital and the White House. All of it was gone.

The second week, I started seeing the grey vans. The Party. Humorless men in black coveralls with machine guns. People started to disappear. I was afraid to talk to anyone. Everyone was. We stayed in our houses and listened for the vans, waited for a knock on the door. That’s the way it worked. The vans in the night, a knock on the door, no explanations.

And I don’t know why I’m telling you this now. I’ve never been a political person. I’m a mail carrier. For twenty years I’ve delivered bills, magazines, letters from friends and family. I thought it was an important job, a necessary job. I never imagined how important.

But somebody has to do something now. I’ve found others, or they found me, people banding together in the shadow of night, making deliveries of a different kind; news from around the country, stories of gaps in the patrols, places where the vans haven’t gotten to yet, stashes of food, medicine. And weapons. Not everyone is taking this lying down. Some are organizing. What for, I don’t know. I’m not a political person. I’m just a mail carrier who knows things still need to be delivered.

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