Greetings and salutations. Welcome to episode 10 of the Crossing Guard Tapes. We are coming to you from an undisclosed location. What you are about to hear is true. This is an unauthorized account taken from the Diary of Mike Limbo, while he was employed as an intelligence gathering agent for a deep state organization known as the Guards of the Realm. Mike has been on the run ever since. He has no one else to turn to. He's losing hope. Help us get the word out. Join us as we bring you episode 10 of the Crossing Guard Tapes.
Speaker 2:September 9th 1989, I found out why we've been spending so much time learning about codes. Our agents communicate vital information to each other using codes. Today, it was my job to interpret the codes, to decode them and to write them out in longhand. Mr Jakeman was in charge of today's operations. Guard of the Realm's second-class Hanson and myself were both going out on our first mission. I know what you're thinking. I used to think that Guard of the Realm's second-class Hanson was a total fucking loser. He's not so bad. After all. They moved him back into my barracks a few weeks ago and we've been getting along fine.
Speaker 2:Anyway, we drove all over the city so that we could observe some of our operatives in action. First we drove to the east side, taking the South Beltway to the Park Avenue School Districts. Our first stop was at Dungeon Elementary School. Mr Jakeman parked a little ways down the street from the school and we sat in silence for a few moments, wondering what we were supposed to be watching for.
Speaker 2:Late summer was here and I had forgotten how good it was to feel the sun on my face. The sky was clear blue, with just a few scattered clouds here and there. The air was clean and fresh. I'd been inside for so long that I'd forgotten what it felt like on the outside. I totally forgot what I was there for. I started listening to the sound of the traffic, feeling the wind blowing through my hair as we drove, the smell of the city, the restaurants, the buses, the people out on the sidewalk it all came back to me. It felt great. I was drifting and watching all the hot chicks walking by. A couple of fucking weirdos with mohawk haircuts and stinky looking cut up jeans walk past. I had almost forgotten this stuff. I remember how annoyed I used to get with people like that, but now I was just happy to see something anything different than the world I'd been living in for for the past nine months. Man, it was great to be back on the outside again. Mr Jakeman cleared his throat to remind me to pay attention, that I had a job to do, but I didn't even hear him. I was lost in the clouds. Suddenly he turned around and gave me a dirty look. Did you get all of that? He asked.
Speaker 2:Part of the realm's second-class Hanson was busy scribbling in his notebook. He asked again did you get any of that message, or will I have to ask Agent Bleck to repeat it for you. I must have looked like a deer in headlights. He reminded me that I was supposed to be watching, observing and learning. I'm afraid that you're still lacking discipline. He said. If you'd have been paying attention, you would have noticed that one of our agents is sending us a message. Do I need to have him repeat it? I'd rather not have to do that if I don't have to, so please pay attention. I must have looked totally confused because he said do you see that crossing guard over there? He is sending you a message in semaphore. Hopefully you still remember how to decode semaphore.
Speaker 2:I felt like such an idiot, especially after Hanson handed his notes to Mr Jakeman. Good work, cadet. He said. I started writing as fast as I could. The message, as far as I could tell, was not very important. Basically, it said not much to report here. Today, though, I've heard reports about some movement in South Town. Go to South Town and see Agent Philbin. Good work, he said after I handed him my notes. Let's go to South Town and see what they have to say. After he finished delivering his message, agent Fleck signaled that he had no more information for us and went back to finishing his assist.
Speaker 2:It was 3.30pm and school was already out for the day. It was a cool sunny afternoon and, like clockwork, the children swarmed out of their classrooms as soon as the bell rang. They seemed so light-hearted and happy as they headed home for the day. It's hard to imagine now why I disliked them so much. Mr Jakeman pulled back into traffic and we headed for Southtown, but first we made a few stops along the way, taking messages from other agents. The messages were similar to Agent Blex. Not much action here, but there is some movement in Southtown.
Speaker 2:Today's training exercise was mainly being done for the benefit of Hanson and myself. As new agents, we had to be taught how to send and receive coded messages in the field and in plain view of the public. As far as the public is concerned, we don't exist. We were taught how to signal an agent that we were ready to receive a message First. The agent would then need to verify our authority to receive the transmission by sending us various signals, for which we would then have to give the corresponding responses. Once the agent was satisfied as to our authenticity, the message would begin.
Speaker 2:Students on the street use a variation of the semaphore code in encoding their messages. The amazing thing about it is that all of this is done under the nose of the children right there during the assist. The properly trained crossing guard has taught how to send messages without detection from children, subtly shifting the stop sign in their hands, while using their wrists and elbows to manipulate it into various letters and symbols To signal that the message was finished. He or she would spin the stop sign twice quickly in their hand and then walk to the corner and face away from us. If we needed to deliver a message to our agents, we used the Morse code. By flashing the headlights of our automobile, we could send a message during the daylight hours without most pedestrians suspecting a thing. Not every crossing guard is a guard of the realm. In order to distinguish themselves from the ordinary crossing guards, a guard of the realm is required to give a coded signal every three minutes, just in case there are operatives in the area who need to communicate with them.
Speaker 2:We entered South Town and began heading down Prince Street directly to Dugan Elementary. As we neared the intersection of Prince and Cherry Streets, mr Jakeman suddenly pulled into a parking space about 50 feet or so away from the school. We sat in silence for a few moments waiting for an operative to identify themselves, but my attention was immediately directed to the northwest corner. Who should I spot standing there but that fruitcake crossing guard dude? As usual, he was going through his gyrations and his kneeling and bowing and just acting like an all around spaz. I pointed at him and said it's the spaz.
Speaker 2:Mr Jakeman turned around and glared at me, but did that stop me? I continued. I remember that guy. What a total fruitcake. Talk about a horse's ass. What nut house did you find him in? I was so sure that he was with me on this one, but Mr Jakeman wasn't laughing.
Speaker 2:Mr Jakeman just stared at me like he wanted to throttle my neck. Did you get all of that, he asked. Man, was he pissed? My jaw must have dropped to the floor. Get what I asked.
Speaker 2:Slowly it began to dawn on me, but, like an idiot, I still wasn't sure he's an operative. I began scribbling as fast as I could, just in case. After a few seconds, though, I stopped riding. I still couldn't believe it. I thought Mr Jakeman is just messing with me. That's gotta be it. This is a joke, right? That punch-drunk, senile old windbag is an operative. No fucking way.
Speaker 2:Suddenly, mr Jakeman turned around in his seat and ripped the notebook out of my hands. I almost jumped. He goes. That punch-drunk senile old windbag, as you call him, is your commanding officer. Agent Philbin has done more for this country than you could ever hope to achieve in your pitiful lifetime. It's people like him that keep this country safe and secure so that idiots like you can drive around with your friends taking syphilis pills and running red lights. He knew about the syphilis pills, jesus Christ. His face was purple with rage and I knew I had really stepped in at this time. He relaxed for a second, handed me my notebook and turned back around in his seat, taking a deep breath and slowly shaking his head in disbelief. He goes, just concentrate on your job. I am such a fucking idiot.
Speaker 2:I buried my face in my notebook, scribbling as fast as I could, hoping not to catch any more flak from Mr Jakeman. Hanson gave me a little kick in the shins as he handed his notes to Mr Jakeman. Good work, hanson, he said. At least one person here has taken his job seriously. Hanson kicked me again. I decided I would deal with his ass later.
Speaker 2:Mr Jakeman goes, your job description as of right now is simply to do your job. You are not qualified to make judgments on any and I mean any of your superior officers. Do you read me? I nodded my head. I felt like a total dick. Yes, sir, I began to say, but was interrupted by the sound of squealing tires as a black sedan came screeching around the corner. Just as I ducked, I heard the rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire and the sedan squealing away.
Speaker 2:I should have been scared right then, but, to be honest, the only thing I could think about was that Mr Jakeman had just cussed. I was gonna make a crack about it just to get him back for all the times he cracked on me about it, but I never got around to it. Hanson was crouched down next to me with his eyes scrunched shut. He was as white as a ghost. He was as white as a ghost. I finally got the nerve to peek up over the front seat. That's when I saw that the fruitcake had been hit. They shot him. They got him good too. I saw him lying on the ground in a big pool of blood, jerking and spazzing, as usual. To tell you the truth, I never knew people had so much blood in them. I couldn't stop watching him. It was brutal and it was totally weird at the same time. I mean, I don't care what Mr Jakeman said about the guy, about how much of a patriot he was, and all, because even when he was laying there dying, he still acted like a complete fruitcake.
Speaker 2:Mr Jakeman interrupted my thoughts, keeping his head low. He said Are you two all right? I nodded, still watching as the fruitcake did his last spaz. Hanson just sat there with his eyes shut tight. Mr Jakeman punched him in the knee. That did the trick. Hanson's eyes were open. Now, why no room? He continued. I need you in the here and now. Are you with me? Hanson nodded, but to be honest, he looked like he was about to start bawling. We probably only get about 10 seconds before they come back. Mr Jakeman was wrong. We didn't have 10 seconds.
Speaker 2:The Black Sedan started coming back immediately. They laid a perfect 360 degree donut in the middle of Cherry Street. It was beautiful, retire, squealing and rubber burning. They began speeding back towards us Suddenly. I wasn't thinking about getting even with Hanson. I wasn't even thinking about how Mr Jakeman cussed. I wasn't even thinking about the dead fruitcake. I was scared, really, really scared. I've never been so scared in my entire life.
Speaker 2:Mr Jakeman shouted they've seen us. Holy Christ, he was right. The Black Sedan was heading straight for us. He goes, split up and get back to the compound any way that you can. Then he bolted out the door and began running down Prince Street. Within seconds they opened up a barrage of machine gun fire at him. I saw him fall. He fell in front of the bus stop near a group of screaming school kids.
Speaker 2:Madness erupted everywhere and people began scattering in all directions, ducking behind bike racks, lamp posts and just running right into traffic. Cars were jamming on their brakes as the sidewalks emptied. School kids and pedestrians streamed away from the gunfire, running in a blind panic. You could hear the screeching brakes, the smashed bumpers, the windshields popping and the screams. Let me tell you, the sound of children screaming is like fingernails on a blackboard Times a thousand. It'll make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.
Speaker 2:Somehow Mr Jakeman managed to get to his feet. He began to stagger away, but only made it as far as the trash can, which he fell into head first, his legs still pumping, hanson bolted. Next, with his head down, he started running straight towards the school. Three or four FBI-looking guys jumped out of the sedan in hot pursuit. They drew their pistols from their shoulder holsters as they knocked crying children out of their way, jumping over bike racks, tossing garbage cans aside. The guys were kiddin' around. The last I saw of Guard of the Realm Hanson he was galloping through the playground but these guys caught up with him and they caught up with him quick right at the monkey bars.
Speaker 1:I'm sure that you know what's going on in the world. But I'm sure that you know what's going on in the world. I'm sure that you know what's going on in the world. Tommy Nicolai, Pat Waters, Yui Garawal, Lily Garawal, Wes Garawal, Jazz Garawal and Julia Waters, With original music from Pendulum, Incorporated technical support and marketing courtesy of Jazz Garawal. The number you have dialed has been changed. The new number is Please help them. Deep State Chronicles.