Good day Loyalists. Thank you for joining us for episode 11 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 during his enforced internship in a deep state organization known as the Guards of the Realm. Mike has been living in exile ever since. Without your support, there is little hope. Time is running out. Help us shine a light. Join us as we bring you episode 11 of the Crossing Guard Tapes.
Speaker 2:With most of them preoccupied with Hanson, I decided it was time to make my move. Keeping my head down, I ran behind the row of cars that were in line waiting to pick up the kids. I glanced over my shoulder to see if they spotted me yet it looked clear, so I took off down Prince Street. At the last second I ducked behind a bus full of screaming school kids and almost got run down by a van speeding in the other direction. It was a close call. My adrenaline wasn't pumping as hard as it was. I wouldn't have been able to jump out of its way in time. As it was, I got nicked in the back of my ankle. I figured it'd be hurting later, but for the moment I couldn't feel a thing and I just kept moving.
Speaker 2:As I was waiting to cross the street at Glen and Cherry, a newspaper delivery truck slowed down almost to a standstill right in front of me. The back was open, so I climbed aboard and hid behind Stack's bundle newspapers. Fortunately for me, the drivers seemed to be in a big hurry, running red lights on their way back to the city center. I laid down making a pillow out of newspapers and closed my eyes, resting, trying to get my heart to stop pumping so hard. It was a losing battle, though I couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. One moment I was on a training mission, no big deal, just another day. But then, suddenly, here I was running for my life after seeing all of my friends get shot down like dogs.
Speaker 2:Mr Jakeman didn't seem like such a bad guy now, not compared to these people anyway. Whoever the hell they are, the fruitcake, the spazzing out and all the blood. And why did they have to kill Hanson? I mean, for Christ's sakes, he was just a boy, practically. He didn't do anything to these people. I can't forget how scared he looked when we were in the car back there. He was practically crying, and then they chased him down and blasted him to high heaven. They could have just let him go. He wasn't hurting anybody. And why were they after me? Well, maybe they weren't, but I was afraid to look. I just kept my head down for a long while Seemed like a good plan for the time being. Time will tell.
Speaker 2:The sky was getting darker and it smelled like rain. A slow drizzle began to fall. I heard some thunder rumbling in the distance. I was getting a little bit chillier and I started to wish I'd brought a jacket with me. Gradually I found the nerve to look outside and see if I was being followed. As far as I could tell, no one was in pursuit. I was safe for the moment. I grabbed a loose newspaper and opened it up in front of me on the floor. It was time to catch up with the news.
Speaker 1:But first the funny pages.
Speaker 2:Just then, a cop pulled up beside us and the truck slowed down. So when we stopped at the next traffic light, I saw my opportunity. I folded up the paper, stuck it under my arm and stepped off the truck. Thanks for the ride, fellas, and the free paper, and, lucky for me, we were right in front of Reed Park, which would be a great place to hide and lay low for a while. As soon as the truck pulled away, rain started coming down in buckets. Funnies would have to wait. I unfolded the newspaper and covered my head with it. It wasn't much of an umbrella, but it was better than nothing. Even so, I was still pretty much drenched by the time I reached the trees by the duck pond.
Speaker 2:This has turned out to be a real crap day. I remembered waking up all excited about the prospect of being on the outside again. It started out okay, but then all this crap happened and now all I want to do is pretty much go back in, and as soon as possible. I mean pretty much everyone I know and care about is dead. Life in the compound has not been a picnic, that's for sure. There have been times when I really hated it and I wanted to actually kill some of the people there. On the other hand, I always had a warm bed and they fed me three squares a day. Plus, I was getting a free education. Now that it seemed clear that people on the outside might try to kill me, should they find me, the compound seemed like a pretty cool place to be. All I could do now is wait until after dark, under the cover of night, to move around safely. Again. I found a vacated picnic area and sat alone shivering my ass off in the cold, miserable dampness. All in all, this has been a real crap, fucking day. That's grade Z day. After all the time that I spent inside the compound, I was never sure where it was actually located. It could have been in a different country. For all I knew, I had been cooped up inside training, learning, but in all that time no one would tell me where we were. The compound had no windows and I was so busy training that I almost forgot what it was like on the outside. Now that I was on the outside, it felt fucking weird Nobody to tell me what to do, where to go, no rules, no schedules and no fucking meals.
Speaker 2:When we drove out of the compound yesterday. I was so happy to be out that I barely noticed my surroundings. I figured that we'd be back safe and sound in a few hours. Anyway, I have spent the morning trying to piece together what I remembered. This is what I've got so far.
Speaker 2:We were in an underground parking garage. I remember that we had to go through a security check with armed guards and one of those barrier gates that they raise after they've checked your papers. I tell you, it was like we were in Nazi Germany or something. I felt like a POW, except that prisoners don't get three square meals a day like I do, and they don't get an education either. Yeah, I wasn't a prisoner, but I wasn't exactly a free man either. So the security guard raised the gate and we drove up a steep driveway as a garage door opened up for it. The sunlight practically blinded me and I shielded my eyes. It had been so long since I had seen sunlight that my eyes froze up and went blank. By the time my eyes got used to the light, we had already driven a ways down the block. The compound, as I turned back to look, was an immense building and there were many garage doors maybe 15 or 20 lined up every 20 feet or so. By the time I looked back, the garage door had already closed behind us.
Speaker 2:I'll never figure out which one we came out of. They all looked the same, all painted the same color Dark brown. The building itself was an older brick building, just like the hundreds of other ones you see in older parts of the city. I do remember passing a small two-story red brick building on the corner with a neon sign hanging in the window advertising palm readings. It looked out of place next to all these huge buildings around it. Might have been someone's house at one time.
Speaker 2:I also knew that we were somewhere near the downtown area because of all those hippie shops that sell beads and crapped out old clothes that look like they found them in the garbage. I can never figure out what kind of people would buy clothes like that. Plus, there were a few hippies hanging around on the sidewalks playing their guitars or tossing Frisbees. One of them had a dog with a neckerchief that was actually really good at catching the Frisbee in its mouth. Really, I bet I could have taught my dog to catch a Frisbee too if all I did was sit around all day with nothing better to do. Get a fucking job, hippie. You would have never thought that a compound like this could even exist in such a place and right in front of everyone's noses. The fact is, it was practically invisible if you didn't know what you were looking for, and right in the heart of the city, I'll bet I passed it tons of times without even giving it a second thought.
Speaker 2:I gradually made my way back to the downtown area, walking on back streets, constantly checking behind me to make sure I wasn't being followed. I kept thinking that I was being watched, but every time I turned around I would just see some old fart walking his dog. I was getting very hungry and thirsty. I was totally shit out of luck, though, since they hadn't given me any money. I didn't have any ID either, so I didn't have a way to contact them.
Speaker 2:Gradually, the shops started getting smaller and kind of weird, so I knew I must be in the right place. Luckily, I found the red brick building with the neon palm reading sign hanging in the window. I knew I was on the right block. I walked down the street banging on the garage doors, but nobody answered Not a peep. I kept seeing some weird gypsy lady scowling at me from inside the palm reader's house. What was she so angry about? I don't think I was scaring away any of her customers. I mean, the street was completely deserted. How does she even stay in business? It's like a ghost town around here. It kind of gives me the creeps. Since she was the only living breathing human being I'd seen on the entire block, I decided to find out if she knew anything.
Speaker 2:The closer I got to the house, the more run down it looked. Paint was peeling off the window sills, the porch looked like it was missing a few floorboards. An old rotting couch with one of its feet missing was pushed up underneath the window. As I walked up to the front door, a few cats suddenly sprang up from the couch and snarled at me. They slinked off and left me standing alone wondering whether I was making the right choice.
Speaker 2:It felt kind of sketchy. The house was dark and silent, like they were closed. Funny thing is the sign on the door read come in, we're open. Weird and kind of spooky Little tinkly bells chimed. When I opened the door.
Speaker 2:I stood halfway inside and called out Hello. I waited, hello, anybody home? I heard an old, creaky lady's voice tell me to come in. I stepped in and let the door close behind me with all the tinkly bells. Right away I noticed the smell of incense Lots of incense, worse than a church.
Speaker 2:I heard a voice in the next room say come in here. I followed the sound to a doorway with beads hanging across it. The room behind it was dark. Though I was hesitant, I walked to the doorway and stuck my head through the beads to take a look. An older, dark-haired lady was sitting at a round wooden table. She was dressed like a gypsy fortune teller, in silk robes, beaded necklaces and lots of bracelets. On her head she wore a turban with a big jewel of some kind on it, like a third eye staring back at me. The room was dark, except for a few candles. On the table in front of her. The air was choked with smoke and it was hard to breathe. It was stifling. God, I hate these kinds of places. Remind me to never come here again. Come in here, she said. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to go in, but she goes. Would you like to have your tea leaves Red. No thanks, I said, but I'd like to ask you some questions, she says. Come closer.
Speaker 1:Let me get a look at you.
Speaker 2:I walked over to the table Sit Please, I go. No, Look, I just want Sit down. She sounded angry. I was not in the mood to fight, so I just sat down to get it over with. I'd been in this place for less than a minute, but I was already starting to get kind of annoyed. She smiles and goes. So you want to know your future?
Speaker 1:You have questions about a certain woman in your life. Let me see your palm.
Speaker 2:She takes my hand and starts looking at it, running her finger up and down, touching me here and there. Very interesting. She'd better not try to touch me anywhere else I'll seriously hit her. I've never hit an old lady before, but if she knows what's good for her, she'll keep her hands where I can see them. She goes. I see, I see many things in your palm. I go. Yeah, really she goes.
Speaker 1:Your future is as plain to see as the nose on your face.
Speaker 2:I felt like saying If you can read the future, then you should already know why I even came to this dump in the first place. These places are all alike they're nothing but scams. Maybe you would have gave her a palm reading to remember. Tell you that. I looked around the room now that my eyes were starting to adjust to the light. There were many strange knickknacks and little statues all over the place, on tables, on shelves, windowsills. She had creepy pictures of weird looking people dressed in robes and turbans and with tattoos and metal rings stuck in their eyes and their ears and pretty much anywhere else you could put one.
Speaker 2:There was a bookcase filled with rows of fancy looking old books like magic books about astrology and stars and yin-yangs and crap like that. The incense was suffocating. It was like trying to inhale a Ford. I always wondered why anyone would burn this crap. My mom always said that it was because these people never took baths and to cover up the cat litter stench. She was right. Sure enough, a cat wandered into the room, plopped down on the table like it owned the place and then it just stared at me like it wished I was dead. Then it began licking itself in all kinds of disgusting places. There should be some kind of reform school for cats like this, or else it should be drowned.
Speaker 1:You have just heard episode 11 of the Crossing Guard tapes. We are shutting down our transmitter now to prevent the DOJ from tracing our signal and, dear listeners, due to the FBI's unrelenting effort to recover the tapes, there is a risk that they could be monitoring our site. So be sure to keep a low profile when sharing, subscribing and liking. Until next time. Co-conspirators, stay alive and spread the word. The Crossing Guard tapes was written and produced by Jim Waters, featuring the voice talent of 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 Deep State Chronicles.