I held Polly from going further up the hill.
She rolled her eyes and huffed. “You scared of the trees now, Papa?”
I pointed up the hill to a concrete pillbox. When she saw it herself, Polly put her hand to her mouth. She followed my lead and hopped into the scrub brush on our trail.
“Who made that? What are they doing?” she asked.
I grunted. “Gotta be that paramilitary group up the road. Those sovereign citizen people.”
“But they can’t do that – that’s Old Frank’s land, not part of the crazy compound.”
“Well, we better hope they didn’t see us. Otherwise they’ll be shooting soon to keep us from telling the government.” I crawled away, hoping my head was still beneath the treeline.
“We gonna tell on them?”
“Not to the cops, anyway. Let’s just pay Old Frank a visit.”
I’m not sure what the picture for Crimson’s Creative Challenge was this week, but I thought it looked like a pillbox on a wooded hill. And what better setting for a pillbox than a paramilitary compound full of sovereign citizens and other right wing terrorists? There’s not!
If you would like to learn more about my inspiration for the story, I strongly suggest the Slate podcast Standoff: What Happened at Ruby Ridge. I was skeptical at first because Slate is SUPER FREAKING left-leaning, but I loved their Nixon-focused podcast Slow Burn, so I gave Standoff a try. It, too, was excellently done.