The Weed War Read online

"Pull over," a voice said loudly through a blow horn on the police car that was following us.

  I kept my eyes on the road and said, "You hear that? What are we going…"

  Matthew didn’t wait for me to finish. He sprang up and over the bench seat, looked at me, and planted a huge kiss on my lips. "Switch with me."

  I pushed myself up, and he slid underneath me. The car slowly drifted onto the shoulder and a loud thumping sound indicated the warning strips had passed under our tires. Matthew grabbed the wheel and jerked it to the right. The car swerved back into the outside lane, across the other two lanes, and into the grass median before flying through the air and landing on the other side of the freeway in oncoming traffic. "Put your seat belt on," Matthew yelled frantically.

  I slid over, and tried to pull the belt on, but he swerved and clipped the front end of a semi-truck, sending us into a spin. We came to a stop in a ditch and I was lying on the floorboard under the glove box. "You OK?" I asked him.

  "Yes, you?"

  "I'm good."

  "Come on. Let's get out of here!" He put his hand down and helped me up. We opened the door and both stumbled to our feet, still dizzy from the spinning.

  A voice from behind us reminded me that we were being chased. The officer ordered, "Get down on the ground, now. I said, get down."

  I looked at Matthew; he had no intention of just giving up. I could see it in his eyes. He spun around facing the officer. "Sir, I can explain," he said, taking a step forward.

  "I said get down." The officer repeated, and then took a step backwards over the white line.

  "Stop!" Matthew reached out his hand, but it was too late.

  The bus didn’t even slow down as it hit the officer, instantly killing him and consequently freeing us. It was shocking, and the world seemed to be moving in slow motion as Matthew ran over to the officer’s body. He leaned over him and pulled his keys off his belt.

  "Come on! Let's go!" Matthew shook me, "Come on, we don't have much time." He pulled me toward the road, "We’ve got to take his car." He pointed across the freeway at the parked car.

  "You want me to cross that after what just happened to him?” I pointed down at the body and looked back up at the racing cars.

  Chapter 20

  The Diary of Renee de Garcias, A Weed War Tale,

  Entry 9, continued

  The knock on the door startles Olga. She jumps up and runs to the door, then grabs the handle right before her little brother can open it. "Go on, Bobby."

  Bobby looks up at his sister, squints his eyes, and throws his shoulders down.

  "Don't pout. Now go on." She looks through the peep hole, saying, "Harley." She quickly unlocks the door and opens it. "What are…"

  Harley doesn't wait for the rest of the question; she drives her tear-soaked face into Olga’s chest and wraps her arms around her. "I'm so sorry, I just didn't know where else to go."

  Chapter 21

  The Diary of Renee de Garcias, A Weed War Tale,

  Entry 9, continued.

  We stood only feet from the blood-soaked line that lay between us and a steady stream of oncoming traffic. I looked back at the mangled officer as we took our first steps onto the highway. We stopped at the first dotted line, and let a car pass before sprinting over the next two lanes and onto the sloping grass median. My head spun and my heart pounded.

  "Hurry!" Matthew said, as he pulled my hand toward the unmarked squad car.

  "Are you sure we should take a police car?”

  He jumped in the driver’s seat, rolled down the windows, and said through the passenger side window, "Our tires are blown and I don't think we have much time, so get in."

  I jumped in and we sped off, down the road.

  We pulled off the highway at the first exit ramp and found the nearest gas station. Matthew pulled the car around the back and parked it out of view. He told me to wait and after a few minutes he drove up to me in an old, beat-up 1949 Studebaker.

  "Where did you get that?" I asked.

  "The service station over there had this thing parked around back, and wouldn't you know the keys were in the ignition."

  I looked it up and down, and asked Matthew, “Will it make it to Denver?"

  He shook his head and with a short sigh, he told me, "It's only ten miles."

  I looked at the car again, questioning, “Like I said, will it make it?"

  I flashed him my big blue eyes, and slid into the front seat. The car sputtered as we pulled away from the old station and we both cracked a smile. This all seemed so surreal. I was scared out of my gourd, in way over my head, and yet I was happy for the first time since my dad died. I reached over and put my hand on his.

  Chapter 22

  Olga closes and locks the door while Harley holds on to her wrist. "What happened?"

  Harley looks up, tears filling her glowing red eyes. "I got in a fight with my mom and," she puts her head down and squeezes, "she...I think she... she must have."

  Olga steps back and frees herself from Harley's grasp. "Harley, you need to take a deep breath and slow down."

  She inhales and her chest rises. "She called the guard. I went back and there were two guards outside my front door. One of them had the book in their hand."

  Bobby runs by, yelling, "The guard is here now!" He stops at the window, and shoves his nose against the glass. "See," he points. “Right there."

  Olga's eyes get real big. She grabs Harley and pulls her down the hall. Olga tells her, "You’re going to have to stop the sobbing, and you can’t make any noise.”

  They reach the end of the hall and step in front of a tall wooden bookshelf. Olga places her hand on a small hula lamp and pulls it. A buzzing sound comes from the wall, followed by the sound of lock tumblers. The shelf pops open like a door and stale air wafts out.

  Harley's jaw drops. "What?" A hidden room is filled with treasures from the past, old compact-discs, hair ties, a small American flag, and other iconic items.

  Olga pushes Harley by the small of her back into the hiding place. "Be quiet," she tells her. She reaches down and pulls the book off her bottom shelf, "Hold this." Before Harley can say a word, Olga is already closing the bookshelf to the hidden room.

  Chapter 23

  The Diary of Renee de Garcias, A Weed War Tale,

  Entry 10

  The Sunday morning sermon at the church we attended on special occasions as a child had already begun when we pulled into the parking lot. I had convinced Matthew that I needed to talk to the pastor, who was an old friend of my dad's. In truth, it wasn’t advice I was seeking, but showing up at the church was a way for me to communicate with my family and find someone I trusted to give something to. In all the insanity over the past week, I was completely cut off from them. Matthew said the first place the police would look would be at family and friends’ houses. I needed an alternate way to get to one of the only honest men I knew, my brother, the journalist. We had stopped going to church when I was just a little girl, but I knew my brother still talks to Pastor John.

  After parking, I woke Matthew up. We sat in the car waiting for the sermon to end. Suddenly, a car full of men came screaming into the parking lot and came to a screeching stop right at the bottom of the main stairway. The doors flew open; five large men exited the full sized sedan and approached the trunk.

  One of the men ran into the church and screamed, “We have traitors!”

  People spilled out of the church to find the men pulling two teenagers out of the trunk.

  “It's some of the terrorists,” one of them yelled. Matthew and I slid down in our seats, but continued to watch. I recognized the two teenagers from the news; they were wanted for tagging marijuana leaves on every water tower in the Denver metro area. For a few seconds I thought the people from my church may be trying to help them, but the next few moments changed my world forever.

  A little old lady was the first to cas
t an insult upon them. "Traitors! Commies!" she yelled, as the veins in her neck protruded and her face turned a dark shade of magenta. The mob that followed made my stomach turn, until I couldn't take it anymore. Vomit started to rise in my gorge with every kick and blow to the helpless kids. I opened my door and stuck my head out just enough to let the puke miss the side of the car. Matthew couldn't help himself. He opened the glove box, pulled out a gun, and before I could stop him he was off.

  Two gun shots rang out, and an eerie silence came over the angry mob, and a flutter of wings flapped on the flock of birds fleeing the trees. I sat up to see Matthew pointing the gun at the church members. He screamed, "Enough!" and waved his gun in the air. "What kind of Christians are you?"

  No one answered.

  "Come on!" He slammed his foot down. "Let them go, or I'll..."

  A man in the front yelled, "Kill us all... he only has eight rounds, tops."

  "I won't kill all of you, but some of you will die, right now, if you choose the devil's path of judgment, starting with you." He pointed the gun back at the man.

  Pastor John made his way out of the church and down the steps as the ultimatum was made. "No one need die today, not in the house of the Lord." He pushed his way through the crowd to the two boys bound and bloodied on the ground. "Untie them," he commanded.

  There was no argument; two men freed the boys who limped over towards Matthew. I jumped out of the car and hurried over to help them. They were both wounded badly.

  "Renee?" the pastor questioned when he saw me.

  I looked up and locked eyes with him. "You must have me confused with someone else," I said, as Matthew and I helped the two boys into our vehicle.

  He stepped away from the safety of his parishioners, approached me, and whispered, "It's been years and you've grown but I'd recognize Carburetor’s kin anywhere."

  Carburetor was my dad’s nickname because of his love affair with fast, motorized vehicles. I hadn't heard that name in years, which made me stop and think back just long enough to convince Pastor John it was me.

  The mob’s anxiety began to build and they surrounded the car.

  He leaned in and whispered in my ear, "You'll be safe here, in an hour or so." He pulled back and said loudly, "Let he who has not sinned cast the first stone." He waved his hand, "No one? OK, then, make way."

  Matthew started the car and slowly drove through the narrow path Pastor John had opened with his command.

  Chapter 24

  Zack and Mark enter through the kitchen door laughing and high fiving. They have no idea what they are walking into until it is too late. Two guards stand at the far end of the long skinny table. Zack's dad holds the book in his hand, and his head is hanging down. Zack steps forward, "What's going on?"

  "Where did you get this?" his dad demands.

  Zack stares at it and tilts his head, "Never seen it before."

  One of the two guards pulls out a seat. "Sit," he says.

  Mark sees no reason to stick around so he tries to slowly inch his way back out of the door they entered, only to be stopped by yet another guard. "Going somewhere?" the guard asks.

  "No."

  Zack's dad stands up. "Boys, you know the law. We need to know where you got this."

  Mark snickers, "I’ve never seen anything like that before."

  Zack's dad calls into the other room, "Bob!"

  Marks jaw drops as his father walks through the door holding his copy of the book. "You want to rethink your answer, young man?" Bob asks his son.

  Zack looks at Mark, and they know it is over.

  Chapter 25

  The Diary of Renee de Garcias, A Weed War Tale,

  Entry 10, continued

  After we dropped the boys off, we waited for an hour at the local Starbucks, before heading back to church. Entering the cathedral, a chill ran up my spine, as we hurried past the pews and walked through an arched doorway near the back of the stage. Pastor John greeted me with a huge hug. "Renee, my dear, what have you got yourself into?"

  "It isn't what it looks like, they doctored the footage of those videos."

  "I know you, but your friend here..." he said, glancing over at Matthew.

  "John, this is Matthew. He is..." I paused, thinking who was he? "He's my boyfriend, and only killed those men because they were in the process of raping me.”

  Tears filled the pastor’s eyes, "Oh, my child." He opened his arms and I buried my head in his chest. The gravity of the situation hit me like a sledge hammer, shattering my fragile facade. Sobs and sniffles were followed by a sudden lightness in my head and a growing heaviness in my legs, then the day turned to black.

  I woke to Matthew sponging off my forehead.

  "You gave us a scare."

  I tried to sit up, and Matthew helped me. "What happened?" I asked.

  "You fainted, but you'll be fine." John said from behind Matthew. "I'll give you a little time to talk." He left us alone, closing the door.

  Matthew looked down at me with his puppy dog eyes and said, "I've talked to the pastor, and he has agreed to help hide you until things blow over."

  My heart began to pound and beads of sweat started to accumulate on my forehead. "What? Are you kidding me? No..." He tried to pull away, but I grabbed his face between my hands and pulled his face towards mine, "We’re in this together now. You get that, don't you?"

  He stared into my eyes, then plunged into my shoulder with a hug so tight it squeezed the air out of me. "Let me talk to John." After he left the room, I could hear them conversing. It was only minutes before John entered my room and approached me. "You've decided to continue on with him?"

  Embarrassed, I looked down, and told him, "I need to." Suddenly the embarrassment vanished and a quiet confidence overcame me. I looked directly into John’s eyes and said, "This is my path, but I need a favor."

  "What kind of favor?" he asked reluctantly.

  "Before we leave, I have a diary and a tape I would like you to get to my brother. It will help them understand if something happens to me."

  Tears began to flow down his cheeks, as he agreed, "No problem, my dear."

  ***

  This will be the last entry in my diary about the coming weed war. There comes a time in everyone’s life when the opportunity to do something meaningful arises. What you have just read in this diary is mine. I have decided to seize the moment and take action. It is my sincere belief that personal liberty must be upheld or the fabric of freedom itself will unravel. I can't tell you the future, but hopefully our actions can help demonstrate the will of the individual to maintain control over his or her own destiny.

  I love all of you.

  Renee

  Chapter 26

  The Diary of Renee de Garcias, A Weed War Tale,

  Final words

  Those were the last words my sister ever wrote. Three days later in a bar just north of Coors Field, a bomb was detonated, killing all the leaders of the Colorado resistance, including Renee and Matthew. If you are reading this, you have obtained a copy of a book which the powers that be would kill to contain and you are now inadvertently part of the resistance. You can close the book, burn it, or throw it away, but it won't matter, because you are now aware. Try as you might, you cannot shake an uneasy feeling that there is something wrong in a world when a person can't decide what to do with their own body. Renee made the same sacrifice that our forefathers made, deciding that personal freedom is worth dying for.

  What will you do?

  Chapter 27

  The knock on the door wakes Mr. Borinski up. It is dark. He looks at his watch, what time is it? He shakes his head and opens and closes his eyes. 10:00 PM. Who could possibly…? He puts the foot rest down, gets up out of the only chair left in his apartment and looks out the peep hole. "What the?" He opens the door to see Olga and Harley standing there with stacks of paperwork.

  "Can we come in?" Olga asks.

&
nbsp; Mr. Borinski sticks his head, looks down the hallway, and says to them, “Are you kids crazy? It’s way past curfew." Then he opens the door and ushers them in.

  He closes the door, swings around, and puffs up his chest, ready to scold his students, but the look in their eyes disarms him and he changes his approach. "Are you girls in some kind of trouble?"

  Olga rolls her eyes and says, "Mr. Borinski, it's not us who is in trouble."

  "What on Earth do you mean?"

  Harley interjects, "It’s the book! Zack and Mark's fathers phoned the guard, and they are confiscating all student copies."

  "Confiscating?"

  "They stormed all our houses and got all the books they could." She looks down at the stack Olga has in her hand, "That’s the only book we know that made it."

  Olga cuts in, "We made copies of the book, and the class discussions." She holds them up. "We came to say goodbye, and tie up some loose ends."

  “Goodbye? Loose ends?"

  "Harley and I are going to the next province, and just like Jonny Appleseed, we’re going to start handing out seeds."

  Olga steps forward and says, "Here’s the book. I told the police I already turned it back in, that I singed the inside cover."

  Harley pipes in, "They told everyone not to tell anyone. But you know how it is, someone overheard something and word spreads pretty fast. After our run-in at my house we got word that they would wait to arrest you until school. They’re going to use the footage as an example. So, here we are." She looks around the empty room and shrugs her shoulders. "Leave that book on the chair and come with us."

  Mr. Borinski looks up, and teary-eyed, he told the students, "I can't do that. I have to see this through, and knowing the sacrifice you girls are making makes my resolve even stronger." His eyes got real big and he said “hold on, I have something that will help you.” He ran down the hall, disappeared but came back with his over the shoulder bag that he carries on a regular basis. He reached in, pulled out a leather bound notebook, handed it to Olga and said “Educate the people it’s our only hope.”