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Dispatch From Aztlantis: Whiskey, Crosses, and Fascists · Tales From Aztlantis

• 0:01
  SPEAKER_00: You must excuse me.
• 0:08
  SPEAKER_00: We interrupt this program from a special news bulletin.
• 0:12
  SPEAKER_00: Whiskey, crosses, and fascists.
• 0:15
  SPEAKER_00: A dispatch from Maslantis.
• 0:22
  SPEAKER_00: Daybreak comes hard and fast at the Sagebrush Inn in Suites.
• 0:26
  SPEAKER_00: A rundown adobe relic sitting on the edge of Taos, still pretending to be a respectable establishment, while its stucco flakes off like dying skin.
• 0:37
  SPEAKER_00: The place must have been quite something during its heyday, back when turquoise jewelry and fry bread were still considered exotic by the road-tripping elite.
• 0:47
  SPEAKER_00: But now, it's just a sun-bleached carcass sagging under the weight of its own history.
• 0:54
  SPEAKER_00: The night before, I had stayed up far too late and drank far too much, swapping old war stories with a pack of archaeologists I'd started my career with years ago at the University of New Mexico.
• 1:09
  SPEAKER_00: As luck would have it, we were all staying at the same dilapidated faux Pueblo Inn.
• 1:15
  SPEAKER_00: I spotted them unloading gear in the cracked parking lot outside my room, and I walked over to say hello.
• 1:22
  SPEAKER_00: And that, as they say, was that.
• 2:12
  SPEAKER_00: And today, the name has never felt more fitting.
• 2:16
  SPEAKER_00: With forty pounds of gear, food, and water on our backs, our lungs burning, and our legs rebelling, we still have more to go.
• 2:27
  SPEAKER_00: Praised Tlaloc.
• 2:29
  SPEAKER_00: It was beautiful.
• 2:32
  SPEAKER_00: There are few things more stunning than an autumn mountain in northern New Mexico.
• 2:38
  SPEAKER_00: The kind of beauty that raises your spirits and makes you forget the chaos of the morning.
• 2:43
  SPEAKER_00: Deeply inhaling that brisk mountain air, we shook off the fog of sleep and fell into a steady pace up the slope, boots crunching through the understory as the ridgeline crept closer.
• 2:56
  SPEAKER_00: And that's when I saw it.
• 2:59
  SPEAKER_00: Something out of place against the trees.
• 3:02
  SPEAKER_00: A large wooden cross, cleanly built from milled 4x4s, tucked behind a stand of ponderosas.
• 3:10
  SPEAKER_00: On it, a name and the inscription.
• 3:14
  SPEAKER_00: Even during the toughest part of his life, he conquered this mountain.
• 3:21
  SPEAKER_00: Amazing.
• 3:23
  SPEAKER_00: I called the crew over, and we quietly stood there staring at that cross, contemplating what a monumental pain in the ass it must have been to haul tools and lumber to the top of the mountain.
• 3:37
  SPEAKER_00: Questions started flying.
• 3:40
  SPEAKER_00: Who was this person?
• 3:41
  SPEAKER_00: When was it built?
• 3:43
  SPEAKER_00: How many others had found it and paused like we did?
• 3:47
  SPEAKER_00: But our main question remained the same.
• 3:51
  SPEAKER_00: Did we have anyone in our lives who would do the same for us?
• 3:57
  SPEAKER_00: I poured out a little water in their memory, a small gesture for someone who clearly had the mountain in their blood.
• 4:05
  SPEAKER_00: Then we packed up and carried on with the day's work, my mind constantly circling back to that cross and the story we'd never quite know.
• 4:16
  SPEAKER_00: Later, back in town, I drifted through a few shops before the town settled in for the night.
• 4:22
  SPEAKER_00: Taus shuts down early, too early, so I quickened my pace.
• 4:28
  SPEAKER_00: A used bookshop, an antique store, and finally, a small nondescript building with an A-frame sandwich board sitting out front that simply read Guns and Ammo.
• 4:48
  SPEAKER_00: Inside, I was immediately greeted by a staff made up almost entirely of cops, out of shape, military haircuts, that peculiar, dead-eyed stare that says, I've got nothing left to lose but my service weapon.
• 5:06
  SPEAKER_00: My initial instinct was to turn right around and get the hell out of there.
• 5:10
  SPEAKER_00: Relax, goddammit, I reminded myself.
• 5:14
  SPEAKER_00: We don't want to arouse the suspicion of these trigger happy bastards.
• 5:18
  SPEAKER_00: I smiled and nodded, feigning interest in various range finders and tactical sights as they tracked my every move with their dimly lit eyes.
• 5:28
  SPEAKER_00: And there it was.
• 5:30
  SPEAKER_00: An SS dagger, complete with swastika encrusted hilt and a matching belt, proudly on display behind glass.
• 5:39
  SPEAKER_00: A small handwritten sign underneath read not for sale, which was probably just code for only for the true believers.
• 5:50
  SPEAKER_00: Fascist nostalgia.
• 5:52
  SPEAKER_00: The energy in the room shifted abruptly.
• 5:55
  SPEAKER_00: I could sense the collective gaze on me come sharply into focus.
• 5:59
  SPEAKER_00: I'm sure they get some sort of visceral thrill watching random shoppers react to the display.
• 6:05
  SPEAKER_00: Keep it cool, Curly, I muttered.
• 6:08
  SPEAKER_00: I turned around, walked up to the counter, and began thumbing through the various bumper stickers that they had for sale.
• 6:16
  SPEAKER_00: The usual sort of boilerplate American paranoia you would expect to find in a shop like this.
• 6:22
  SPEAKER_00: All Lives Matter, Antifa hunting license, and different dim-witted variations of MAGA-inspired slogans.
• 6:31
  SPEAKER_00: Back at the hotel, whiskey in hand, I let the day play back in my mind.
• 6:37
  SPEAKER_00: The morning had brought a heartfelt memorial.
• 6:40
  SPEAKER_00: The evening, a run-in with the diseased underbelly of Trump's America.
• 6:45
  SPEAKER_00: The visit to guns and ammo had left a sour taste in my mouth, but the quiet grace of the lonely memorial, that defiant little spark of decency in the wilderness, was far more powerful.
• 7:01
  SPEAKER_00: It cut through the ugliness, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, not everything's gone completely to shit.
• 7:10
  SPEAKER_00: There are still people out there trying to hold the line.
• 7:14
  SPEAKER_00: And for tonight, that was enough.
• 7:18
  SPEAKER_00: Time to get some sleep.