Louis Collins: A Post-American Odyssey

Louis sat on the sofa beside Maeve as she carefully drove the RV through the streets of Idaho Falls. Two armored SUVs cleared the way ahead of them, while the other two followed closely behind.

“It’s weird,” Maeve said, her eyes on the road. “Everyone is looking at us. The people, the cops, even the old ladies on their porches. And they are not happy.”

“They’re not used to seeing a twenty-meter-long Rolls-Royce with a Dominion Guard escort in their town,” Louis said. “And they don’t like us.”

“Fuck them,” Maeve said. “We’re just passing through.”

As the RV drove past the Snake River, Angelique pointed to a small structure on the right.

“Look,” she said. “A Japanese garden. A tiny one. In the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s called ‘The Friendship Garden’,” Willa said, looking at her laptop. “A gift from the prefecture of Yamanashi, Japan. To the city of Idaho Falls before the Collapse.”

“My grandmother was from Yamanashi,” Gladice said. “She would have liked this. Except for the Mormons.”

“It’s a bit strange to see a Japanese garden here,” Donya said. “In this conservative place.”

“It’s a token of the old world,” Willa said. “A reminder of a more open America.”

“I like it,” Cherish said. “It’s peaceful.”

The RV drove on to the small downtown area. The leading SUVs found a parking lot behind a two-story brick building with a sign showing a smiling man and the words “The Best Divorce Attorney in Idaho!”

“Looks like we found a good spot,” Savannah said, laughing.

“It will have to do,” Angelique said.

Maeve parked the RV as carefully as she could. The vehicle took up all the remaining space in the lot. A small crowd of locals gathered on the sidewalk, taking photos of the RV.

Yamamoto’s voice came over the intercom. “Sir. My team has arranged this parking lot with the attorney’s office. We may proceed with the dinner. We will secure the perimeter.”

“Copy that,” Louis said. “Let’s go.”

Maeve turned off the engine and opened the door. Louis and the women got out. The guards had put on their tactical gear, with helmets, goggles, and assault rifles. They formed a cordon around them as they walked to the street. The crowd murmured and some shouted at them.

“Go home, Pacific degenerates!” a man in a cowboy hat yelled.

“Shut up!” a woman next to him said. “Show some hospitality to our guests.”

“I don’t care,” the man said. “They are a bad influence.”

A teenage boy ignored both of them. “It’s the Collins Eight! It’s them! I follow you on Tengri!”

Louis smiled and waved at him. The boy took a photo. A car with government plates slowed down and stopped across the street. A woman in a gray suit got out and walked to them with a bright smile. She was around thirty, with a round face and a short bob.

“Mr. Collins. I’m Olivia Powell. I work for the Central Union Ministry of Tourism. Welcome to our beautiful state of Idaho,” she said, extending a hand. “We are so honored to have you here.”

Louis shook her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Powell.”

“Please, call me Olivia,” she said, her smile unwavering. “My government has instructed me to assist you in any way I can during your stay in the Central Union. I will be your liaison.”

Louis exchanged a look with Angelique. “We appreciate the offer, Olivia, but I think we have everything we need.”

“Of course you do,” Olivia said, undeterred. “You have your magnificent RV and your security team. But a local guide can always be useful. Rest assured, I will not get in your way.”

“She’s a spy,” Savannah whispered in Louis’s ear. “A friendly spy.”

“I know,” Louis whispered back. “But that’s their country, so we can’t just get rid of her.”

“We’ll be in touch if we need anything, Olivia,” Angelique said with a polite smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a dinner reservation.”

“Of course,” Olivia said. “Please don’t mind me. I’ll just stay nearby.”

“Please do,” Angelique said.

They walked to the restaurant, the guards clearing the way. Olivia followed at a distance.

“So, we have a shadow,” Gladice said. “This is going to be fun.”

“At least she’s not a man in a trench coat,” Willa said. “Small mercies.”

“Yeah, but I bet she’s a Mormon in disguise,” Maeve said.

“Don’t say that out loud, Mae-Mae,” Donya said. “She might hear you.”

“Let her hear,” Maeve said. “I don’t care.”

They arrived at the Snake Bite Grill. The hostess’s eyes widened when she saw them. “Welcome to the Snake Bite Grill. We have—” She saw Olivia standing behind them, and her face changed. “May I see some IDs?”

“Of course,” Angelique said, handing her their passports.

The hostess scanned them, her face tense. “I’m afraid we have a problem. According to the new law, you are all minors, except for Miss Bourbon.”

Louis stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the hostess said. “We have to follow the rules.”

“Look,” Louis said, leaning closer to her. “We are here for the meal. We can skip the alcohol.”

The hostess swallowed. “Sir, we are a restaurant with a full bar. The law is very clear. Minors are not allowed on the premises. I’m sorry.”

Olivia stepped forward. “Mr. Collins. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. May I suggest an alternative? There is a wonderful minor-friendly restaurant two blocks from here. They have great burgers and milkshakes.”

Gladice laughed. “Burgers and milkshakes? Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not,” Olivia said. “And it’s a lovely place. You’ll like it.”

“We’re not going there,” Savannah said. “We came here to eat. And we will eat here.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the hostess said, her hands trembling. “The law is the law.”

Louis stared at her. “Who’s your boss? I want to speak to your boss.”

The hostess hesitated. “His name is Mark. He’s the manager.”

“Then get him,” Louis said. “Now.”

The hostess nodded and scurried away. Louis turned to Willa. “Can you find the ownership of this restaurant?”

“On it,” Willa said, taking out her phone. “Let’s see who owns this place.”

A few minutes later, a man in a black apron came out of the kitchen. He was short and fat, with a red face and a bald head. He wiped his hands on his apron and smiled at them. “Mr. Collins. What an honor. I’m Mark. The manager. Welcome to my restaurant.”

“Mark,” Louis said. “We have a problem. Your hostess says we can’t eat here because of a new law.”

Mark’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m just following the law.”

Willa looked up from her phone. “It’s a single-location business. The restaurant and the building are owned by Snake River Dining LLC. One member. Raymond Hansen.”

Mark swallowed. “Yes, Mr. Hansen owns the place. I manage it for him.”

“How much is it worth?” Louis asked.

“About two million dollars, including the property,” Willa said.

“Can you reach him?”

“I already found his number.”

“Offer him five million in cash,” Louis said. “Ten percent transferred today, the rest when the sale closes. In return, I want immediate authority to operate the restaurant. You have access to the money, right?”

Willa’s fingers flew across her phone. “Yes. I have access to our joint account.”

Mark stared at them, his mouth open. “You can’t be serious.”

“Call him,” Louis said.

Willa tapped the number. She put the phone on speaker. A man’s voice answered. “Hello?”

“Is this Raymond Hansen?” Willa asked.

“It is. Who is this?”

“My name is Willa Locke. I’m calling on behalf of Louis Collins,” she said. “We’d like to make you an offer for your restaurant, Snake Bite Grill.”

A short silence. “What kind of offer?”

“Five million dollars,” Willa said. “Cash.”

“What?” Hansen asked. “Is this a prank?”

“No,” Louis said. “It’s a very real offer. I’m standing in front of your restaurant right now with my family.”

“Louis Collins,” Hansen repeated. “The son of the Supreme President of the Dominion? The one on the news with all the girlfriends?”

“The very same,” Louis said. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Five million,” Hansen said slowly. “I’m listening.”

“Ten percent upfront, the rest on closing,” Willa said. “We can transfer the money as soon as you agree.”

“Why?” Hansen asked. “Why my restaurant?”

“Because I want to have dinner here,” Louis said. “And your manager says your new law won’t let me.”

“Ah,” Hansen said. “The Youth Protection Act. Yes. It’s been a headache for a lot of businesses.”

“Then consider this a solution,” Louis said. “A very profitable one.”

“I’ll need to see the money,” Hansen said. “And I’ll need a contract.”

“My legal team will contact you and make sure of the paperwork,” Louis said. “Now, do we have a deal, Mr. Hansen?”

Another silence. “Yes,” Hansen said finally. “We have a deal.”

“Excellent,” Louis said. “Willa, do you have his account information?”

“Sending it to you now,” Willa said, typing on her phone. “Five hundred thousand dollars. Transferred.”

A moment later, Hansen spoke again. “I see it. Holy shit. You are serious.”

“Always,” Louis said. “Now, I’m handing the phone to your manager. You will inform him that I am now the owner. And that he will follow my instructions. Or he will be looking for a new job.”

“Understood,” Hansen said.

Willa handed the phone to Mark. The manager listened, his face pale. “Yes, Mr. Hansen. Yes, sir. I understand. Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” He hung up. His face had gone from red to white. He looked at Olivia, who was watching them with a neutral expression. He looked at the hostess, who looked confused. “But the law…”

“Close the bar for the evening,” Louis said. “Then you are no longer a restaurant with a full bar.”

Mark’s jaw worked silently. “But that would ruin our bar sales for the night.”

“Do I look like I care?” Louis asked. “I’ll cover the lost sales. And I will give you a big bonus. If you do as I say.”

Mark swallowed. “Right away, sir.”

He turned and went into the bar. Louis turned to Yamamoto. “Captain. Let your men grab some beers and whiskey from the RV. Bring them to our table.”

“Copy that, sir,” Yamamoto said. Two guards turned and jogged back to the RV.

“I like your style, Louis,” Gladice said, grinning.

Olivia stared at them, her smile gone. “Mr. Collins, you can’t just buy a restaurant to get around the law. The law will still apply.”

“Your law says minors cannot enter an establishment that serves alcohol,” Angelique said, her voice calm. “If the bar is closed, the restaurant no longer serves alcohol. Thus, it no longer meets the legal definition.”

“It’s a temporary closure,” Olivia said, finding her composure. “The establishment is still licensed as a bar. The spirit of the law—”

“Then I will make the closure of the bar permanent,” Louis said.

Olivia stared at him. “You would do that? Over a dinner?”

“I would do a lot more than that over a steak,” Louis said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we are hungry.”

Mark came back, looking pale and defeated. “The bar is closed, sir. Please, follow me. We have the best table in the house for you.”

“What the hell is this? I’m here for my whiskey!” a man at the bar shouted.

“You’ll have to go somewhere else tonight,” Mark said. “We are closed.”

“Give every person at the bar any alcohol they want for free on their way out, on me. And tell them I apologize for the inconvenience,” Louis said.

Mark stared at him.

“Tell them now,” Louis said, looking at Mark. “As loud as you can. And with a smile.”

Mark swallowed and turned to the bar. “Attention, everyone! The bar is closed! But the new owner of the restaurant, Mr. Collins, has generously offered to let you take any drink you want home with you!”

A loud cheer went up through the room. The bartender started handing out bottles. The crowd rushed to the bar and started grabbing bottles of whiskey, wine, and vodka. Some of them carried two or three bottles under each arm.

“Thank you, Mr. Collins!” a man with a large mustache shouted as he balanced two bottles of bourbon and a bottle of gin.

“Enjoy your drinks,” Louis said with a smile as more and more people gathered around the closed bar. “Go get drunk at home!”

The crowd cheered.

“Let’s go to our table,” Louis said to the women.

“Follow me, please,” Mark said, leading them to a large round table in the corner of the restaurant, away from the bar chaos. “This is the best table in the house.”

“It will do,” Louis said, sitting down. The women sat around him. Olivia went back to her car and made a call, watching them through the windshield. The guards took positions at the entrance and near their table.

The waitress came to their table. “What can I get for you, Mr. Collins?” she asked, her hands shaking.

“I’ll have the bison ribeye,” Louis said. “Medium. With a side of roasted potatoes and asparagus.”

“I’ll have the same,” Maeve said.

The rest of them gave their orders. The waitress nodded and left.

“Let’s have a toast,” Louis said as the other two guards returned with a cooler full of beer, a case of sake, and a bottle of Japanese whiskey. “To the cows and potatoes of Idaho. And their stupid law.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Maeve said, grabbing a beer.

The others raised their glasses. “To the cows and potatoes!”

They drank. Louis looked around the restaurant. The bar area was almost empty now, except for a few people arguing over the last bottle of tequila. The rest of the patrons were eating their meals, but they kept glancing at him and the women.

Yamamoto came to their table. “Sir, our men have secured the kitchen. We will make sure your food is not contaminated.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Louis said. “I appreciate that. Please let your men help yourselves to whatever they want in the kitchen.”

Yamamoto nodded. “I will, sir.”

He turned and walked away.

“Do you really think someone would poison our food?” Cherish asked.

“Anything is possible, Cherry,” Louis said, putting a hand on hers. “But we are prepared. And we will be safe.”

Cherish looked at Olivia’s car across the street. “She doesn’t look happy.”

“She’s not,” Savannah said. “We just humiliated her and her government.”

“Good,” Maeve said, taking a sip of her beer. “They deserve it.”

“They are just doing their job,” Donya said. “Even if we don’t agree with their law.”

“A job that involves harassing us and following us around,” Gladice said. “They can go fuck themselves.”

“I have to agree with Glads on this one,” Willa said. “I don’t like being spied on.”

“None of us do,” Angelique said. “But we have to accept it as a fact of our mission. And focus on our objective.”

“Which is finding Brother John,” Louis said. “And making him talk.”

“And making him suffer,” Maeve said.

“That too,” Louis said.

The waitress came back with a large appetizer platter with fries, onion rings, hot wings, and fried shrimp.

“Enjoy your meal,” she said, placing the plate on the table.

“Thank you,” Louis said. “Call Mark over.”

The waitress nodded and scurried away. Mark came to their table a few minutes later, wringing his hands. “Yes, Mr. Collins?”

“Relax, Mark,” Louis said. “We’re not going to fire you. How much do you and the employees make per hour?”

“About fifteen dollars, sir,” Mark said.

“Starting today, all of you will make one hundred dollars an hour,” Louis said. “And from today, this restaurant will ban tips. If I ever find out that you accepted a tip, I will fire you. Am I clear?”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir. Very clear. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis said. “Now, you may go back to your work.”

Mark nodded and left. Gladice laughed. “You’re a real devil, Louis. I like that.”

“I’m just being fair,” Louis said. “And making a point.”

“Why no tips?” Donya asked.

“Because we don’t tip in the Dominion,” Louis said. “My father banned it. And because we pay our workers a living wage.”

“I agree with that,” Willa said. “Tipping is a stupid system.”

“I don’t,” Savannah said. “I like to tip. Especially if the service is good. It shows appreciation.”

“And it encourages good service,” Donya said.

“They will get good service without tips. Because they are well paid. And because they have to,” Louis said. “If they don’t, I will fire them and find someone else.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Donya said.

“It’s efficient and fair,” Louis said. “To the workers and to the customers.”

“I like it,” Maeve said. “No ambiguity. Just work. And pay.”

“Of course you do,” Willa said. “You’re a communist.”

“And you’re a capitalist,” Maeve said. “What’s your point? I thought you agreed with no tipping.”

“I do,” Willa said. “But for different reasons.”

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “The result is the same. So it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Donya said. “Because it’s about the principle behind it. And the intention.”

“I don’t care about principles or intentions,” Maeve said. “I care about a good steak.”

“It’s coming,” Louis said as the waitress arrived with their meals. The bison steaks were sizzling, the potatoes were crispy, and the asparagus was bright green. “Looks delicious.”

The waitress placed the plates in front of them. “Thank you, Mr. Collins! I can’t believe we’re getting a hundred dollars an hour! Thank you so much!” She ran back to the kitchen.

Louis cut into his steak. It was tender and juicy, with a smoky flavor. “Not bad for a cow.”

“It’s bison,” Angelique said, slicing her steak. “Not a cow.”

“Same difference,” Maeve said, taking a large bite. “It tastes good.”

“Is bison better than cow?” Cherish asked, trying a piece of her steak. “It’s different.”

“It’s leaner,” Donya said. “And has a stronger flavor.”

“I like it,” Gladice said. “But I still prefer a good wagyu.”

“We can have that tomorrow,” Louis said. “I can order a delivery from our supplier in Japan.”

“In Idaho?” Willa asked. “That’s a long way.”

“Not for a cargo plane,” Louis said. “As long as they have an airport nearby.”

“You really can do anything, can’t you?” Cherish asked, her eyes wide.

“Almost anything,” Louis said. “But I can’t find Brother John and his farmer friends. Yet.”

“We will,” Savannah said, cutting her steak. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“I hope so,” Angelique said. “I’m getting tired of these games.”

“Me too,” Louis said, glancing at Olivia’s car across the street. “I wonder who’s on the other end of her call.”

“Someone important, I bet,” Maeve said. “And probably very angry.”

“Good,” Gladice said. “Let them be angry. It’s more fun.”

“We should bug her car and phone,” Willa said.

“We can try,” Louis said. “But it’s risky. If we get caught, it would be a diplomatic incident.”

“More fun,” Gladice said, winking.

Cherish shook her head. “I don’t think placing bugs is the right way. When I was little, I had bugs on my bed. They bit and it was very itchy. And I couldn’t sleep for a week until Papa burned the entire frame.” She paused. “Even if she’s following us, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Gladice and Savannah exchanged a glance, then broke into laughter. The rest of the table joined in.

“What’s so funny?” Cherish asked.

“Nothing, Cherry,” Gladice said, wiping her eyes. “You’re just… the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t understand,” Cherish said, her cheeks flushing. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Cherry,” Louis said, kissing her cheek. “You didn’t. You just made our day.”

“It’s okay, Cherry,” Willa said, taking her hand. “Bugs have a different meaning for us. It’s a way to listen to what people are saying. A spy thing. Not the itchy kind.”

“Oh,” Cherish said, her eyes widening. “You can do that?”

“Yes, we can,” Angelique said. “But it’s risky. And we have to be careful.”

“Maybe we can ask her to have dinner with us tomorrow,” Donya said. “And get to know her better.”

“And slip a listening device into her purse while she’s not looking.” Savannah grinned. “I can do that. I’m good at it.”

“Or we can just ask her nicely,” Donya said. “She might tell us what we want to know. If we are friendly.”

“Or we can threaten her with a missile,” Maeve said.

“No missiles, Mae-Mae,” Angelique said, sighing. “The Central Union has more missiles than us, as a matter of fact.”

“I don’t think their missiles are as shiny as ours,” Gladice said. “Or as accurate.”

“They don’t need to be,” Willa said. “They just need to hit the ground.”

“Fine, no missiles,” Maeve said, finishing her beer.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Savannah asked, sipping her whiskey. “Are we going to stake out the church?”

Before any of them could answer, Louis saw a group of young men and women gathered outside the restaurant window, holding up their phones. Yamamoto came to their table.

“Sir. We have a small crowd outside. Some of them insisted on coming in to see you,” he said. “They say they are students of Brigham Young University-Idaho.”

“BYU-Idaho?” Willa said, looking at her phone. “It’s a Mormon university in Rexburg. Not far from here.”

“Let them in,” Louis said. “But keep them controlled.”

“Copy that, sir,” Yamamoto said. He nodded to the guards, who moved to the entrance. A few minutes later, a group of five students walked into the restaurant, followed by two guards. They all looked eighteen or nineteen, dressed in casual clothes. They looked nervous but excited.

“Mr. Collins!” a young man with brown hair and freckles said. “We are so honored to meet you! I’m Josh. This is Emma, Rachel, Ben, and Leah. We came to ask you a favor. Having you there would make all the difference.”

“What favor?” Louis asked.

“We are organizing a protest against the new law tonight in Rexburg,” Josh said. “We were following your journey on Tengri and we drove all the way here to see you. We wanted to ask you to join us. Your presence would make a huge difference.”

“A protest?” Louis asked, looking at the others. “Against the law?”

“Yes,” Emma said, a young woman with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. “The law is absurd and unfair. We are adults. We should be treated as such. We are asking for your support.”

Louis looked at Angelique. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a good opportunity,” she said. “To show our solidarity with the local youth.”

“And to piss off the government,” Gladice added, her eyes gleaming.

“And to gather information,” Willa said. “We might learn something about the local LDS community.”

“And to have some fun,” Savannah said. “I’ve never been to a protest.”

“Me neither,” Cherish said. “Is it dangerous?”

“Sometimes,” Donya said. “But usually not. Especially if we have guards.”

“So, are you in?” Josh asked, his eyes hopeful.

“Yes,” Louis said. “We are in. We will join you.”

The students broke into cheers.

“Thank you, Mr. Collins!” Rachel said. “You’re a true hero!”

“We are not heroes,” Louis said. “We are adult tourists.”

The students cheered again. Yamamoto came to their table. “Sir. I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s a security risk.”

“I know, Captain,” Louis said. “But it’s also an opportunity. And I’m taking it.”

“Understood, sir,” Yamamoto said. “My team will be prepared.”

“I know,” Louis said. “Now, let’s finish our meal.”