by Mark Goodwin
Ophelia Martin shook her head. “I do not envy President Markovich. But if anyone is up to the challenge of bringing this divided country back together it’s him.”
Lawrence nodded. “Well said, Ophelia.”
Sam Hodge crossed his arms. “You couldn’t pry the word president out of any of these puppets for the last eight years. It was always Higgins this or Higgins that. Same thing for the few short days that Ross was president. But Markovich is still seven weeks away from taking the oath and they’re already calling him President Markovich.”
No one else commented but continued listening to the interview.
Ophelia leaned in. “What are your thoughts on the legitimacy of the states that have declared themselves to be free and independent from the federal government?”
Lawrence chuckled. “I can call myself the Queen of England but that’s not going to get me past the guard gate at Buckingham Palace. I don’t mean to make light of a serious situation, but come on!
“And what the so-called Alliance States are doing is far worse. If I have a particular delusion that affects only myself, that’s not so bad. But we have a small handful of people, like Turner Blackwell, a smattering of rogue governors, and the arrogantly-named Liberty Caucus who have the audacity to claim they speak for everyone in their respective states.” Shane Lawrence held out his hands as if to plead his case. “They don’t! Look, Ophelia, this would be comical if it didn’t have the possibility of encouraging the sort of people who are already emotionally unstable. My argument is that Blackwell and his cohorts are dangerous. Much more dangerous than any terrorist organization our country has ever had to contend with. We need calmer heads to prevail before someone gets hurt. If that doesn’t happen, the kid gloves are going to come off.
“They may think they have until January to play this little charade with our leader, but this insanity isn’t going to be tolerated.”
Ophelia cupped the arms of her grey upholstered swivel chair. “Interim President Woods is close with the Markovich administration. He was on the short list for VP as we all remember. Is it safe to say Maximillian Markovich has his ear? And if so, does that present any legal hurdles? Blackwell has made many inflammatory statements calling the arrangement a quote, puppet regime.”
Lawrence shook his head dismissively. “Every administration has a transition period where the president-elect and his staff work in lockstep with the out-going team. The special nature of how Interim President Woods came to the oval office has no bearing on that protocol.”
“That’s fair.” Ophelia nodded her approval. She hesitated before her next question. Her face took on a grave expression before continuing. Her lips tightened and her brows lowered. “I suppose we should dispense with the little dance we’re doing around the elephant in the room.” Her artificially pained eyes gazed upon Shane Lawrence. “I hope this is nothing more than a superfluous thought experiment on my part, but let’s suppose the worst happens. Rumors are already flying around about members of the armed services who are abandoning their post to join up with Blackwell. It’s come out that while Ross was being tried, Secretary of Defense Albert Domingo began moving troops and equipment to states that have since joined Blackwell’s alliance. I’m confident that President Markovich will deal with this situation in a fair and diplomatic manner, but what about the poor souls who are caught in the crossfire? Millions of honest, hardworking citizens, many of whom voted for President-elect Markovich, are essentially trapped in these locations where the leadership is declaring themselves to be . . . enemy combatants, for lack of a better word.”
Lawrence nodded emphatically. “You couldn’t have found a better label. Treasonous traitors perhaps, but the term enemy combatants describes them perfectly. In fact, Mr. Domingo has earned his own private cell in Guantanamo Bay. He’s getting checked in as we speak.”
Ophelia titled. “Rather ironic when you consider how hard he fought to keep it open.”
Lawrence applauded her pointed jest with a quick clap of the hands and an exaggerated laugh. “Don’t you love karma?”
“It has a way of making its rounds.” She angled her chin up and gave a venomous smile.
“It sure does, Ophelia. But let me answer your question about the innocent people who are at risk of being caught in the middle of all this. Like you, I fully trust that the president will reach a peaceful resolution. But on the off chance that he can’t, if reason refuses to be heard by Blackwell, there are systems in place to separate the wheat from the chaff.”
“I’m intrigued! Tell me more.”
“We have to be careful about revealing methods and tactics.” Lawrence acted as if he weren’t going to elaborate, but then suddenly capitulated. “But if you insist. It’s actually two separate systems. When we’re talking about people’s freedom, we need redundancy. The first, as you might have guessed, is social media. Whether you’re a supporter of Markovich or Ross, everything you say online is recorded. Even deleted posts can be brought up from the depths of the social media servers. But this is a human problem and it needs the delicate touch of a person to dig deeper. For that, I’m pleased to announce that I’ve had the opportunity to work directly with the administration and George Szabos in putting together a network of concerned citizens who will be the eyes and ears of the president.”
“Congratulations! I had no idea you had been given a formal role in all of this. You are so modest and humble. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
Ava fumed. “The network already knew about this! Why else would they have some loud-mouthed Hollywood actor on the most-watched political talk show when the nation is on the precipice of civil war. What a phony display they’ve cooked up for us!”
Lawrence continued. “It’s not about me, Ophelia. I’m honored to be a part of it, but this is bigger than Shane Lawrence.”
“Can you tell us the name of the organization? Who will be involved?”
“It’s called the Social Justice Legion.”
“Sounds familiar. Is this an evolution of the Social Justice Warriors League?”
“Yes, but much stronger. George’s Just Society Foundation is fostering the development of the program, just as he sponsored the inception and growth of the SJWL. We’ve also brought the good folks from the Social Justice Law Center on board. The SJLC will be advising us on developing protocols for going through social media posts to determine who in the military is a friend and who might be best treated as a potential foe.
“Obviously a derogatory Facebook post about President Markovich isn’t necessarily get you tossed into a re-education camp, but I think it was Confucius who said ‘out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.’”
“I’m pretty sure that was Jesus who coined that phrase, you ignorant pinhead!” Ava shook her fist at the TV.
“I’m all for finding out who is with us and who is against us, Ophelia. We need that kind of information and the people who will be tasked with auditing social media posts will be doing an invaluable service as they classify dissidents into low, medium, and high-risk domestic threats.
“But you know me. I’m a brass-tacks kind of guy. Like the roles I play in Hollywood, I like action. So the Social Justice Legion is also bringing in people from the Antifa movement; you know, to give it some teeth.”
Ophelia covered her mouth as if to contain her glee. “Turner Blackwell doesn’t know what he’s up against. It sounds like a revolution for the people, by the people.”
Foley voiced his objection. “It sounds like the Nazi Brown Shirts.”
“It sounds like every communist revolution that’s come before,” Ulysses added.
“Lunch is ready. Y’all get on in here to the table,” Betty called.
Ava’s stomach was soured from listening to the scripted rhetoric being passed off as an informal discussion. She figured that was how it was done in communist countries so she’d best get used to it for a while. America had taken decades to descend to this level of radical socialis
m. The damage would not be undone overnight. For now, she needed her strength, so she purposed to forget about the distasteful dialogue and focus on the delectable aroma coming from the kitchen.
CHAPTER 11
He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.
Proverbs 16:32
Ava walked off the porch of Sam Hodge’s farmhouse and handed her rifle to Ulysses. He tucked it neatly under the back seat of his truck with his and Foley’s weapons.
Ulysses opened the driver’s side door. “Foley, would you mind riding in the back? If we get in a pinch, it would be good to have someone who can access the rifles.”
“Sure.” The back door creaked as Foley closed it.
“We could keep the rifles in the seats beside us.” Ava got in the front of the truck.
“This truck . . . isn’t exactly registered and insured.” Ulysses closed his door. “We don’t want to create any additional negative attention by having rifles out where folks driving by could see them.”
“Why don’t we take Foley’s truck?” she asked.
“That would defeat the purpose of having an unregistered vehicle.” Ulysses started the engine. “Do you have an extra magazine for your pistol?”
She patted her back pocket. “Yes.”
Buckley chased the truck down the driveway, barking and wagging his tail.
Ava called out the window to her dog, “I’ll be right back, Buck.”
She rolled up her window and looked over at her father. “Thanks for bringing me with you.”
Ulysses tightened his jaw. “Last time, I tried to leave you at home so you’d be safe. That didn’t work out so well.”
Ava turned around to smile at Foley. “We survived.”
Ulysses said, “You were in good hands.”
“Better hands with both of us here,” Foley added.
The twenty-minute drive out toward Marble Falls was uneventful until shortly after they’d turned north on 281. Suddenly, six Marble Falls Police Department cars zoomed past them, lights and sirens filling the air with the sights and sounds of a hazardous event.
“I wonder what that’s all about?” Ava watched as the patrol cars raced by.
“I don’t know,” Foley said. “But it looks like the entire department.”
Shortly thereafter, a train of four vehicles from the Burnet County Sherriff’s Department sped by.
Ava looked on. “Whatever it is, at least it’s in the other direction.”
Ulysses continued to the Walmart where they’d planned to purchase as many supplies as they could carry back in the bed of the truck. He parked near the back of the lot. “Hats and sunglasses. Remember, you’re on camera.”
“We’re not doing anything wrong.” Ava tucked her hair into her ball cap and pulled it low over her eyes.
“You’re a conservative. You heard the news this morning. That’s a crime.” Ulysses stepped out of the truck and adjusted his shirt to cover his pistol.
Ava looked Foley over as he got out.
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Cute.” She smiled.
“Thanks. But can you see my pistol? I’ve got my .45 under my shirt.”
She took his hand. “No. You’re good.”
They collected shopping carts as they neared the entrance. Five Hispanic men wearing baggy pants and long tee-shirts stood by the front doors. All of the men were heavily tattooed, most had tattoos on their face. One stepped forward lifting his shirt to reveal the pearl handle of a very ornate gold-plated .45. “Sorry vato, we close today.”
Ulysses smiled and nodded. “Okay, we’ll come back later.” He pushed the cart to the side and turned around. “Back to the truck. Stay in front of me.”
Ava’s eyes opened wide at the sight of the gang member brandishing his weapon. She said nothing but complied with her father’s instructions. Foley also turned around without talking and put his shoulder behind Ava’s back.
Once they’d passed several cars and were out of earshot of the thugs, Ava asked, “What are we going to do?”
“Nothing. We’re going home.” Ulysses walked close behind her. “The police and sheriff’s department were probably responding to a make-believe threat on the other side of town. The gang likely called in a hostage situation on the other side of town as a diversion. I’m guessing ninety percent of the available law enforcement are at least twenty minutes away from here.”
She turned to look at him. “We can’t let them get away with this!”
“Of course we can,” Ulysses replied matter-of-factly.
“If these guys decide Marble Falls is a soft target, they’ll take it over,” she contested.
“Not our problem.”
“It will be if we have to go all the way to Fredericksburg to get supplies.”
Ulysses exhaled heavily to show his displeasure with the situation.
“She’s right,” Foley said.
“If we do this town a favor, maybe they’ll help us out someday.” Ava slowed her pace as they approached the truck.
Ulysses unlocked the truck. “Get in. Foley, pass the rifles up to the front.”
“We’re going to fight?” Ava grew ecstatic.
“No. We’re going to leave. We’ll keep driving and find the next town with a grocery store.”
Ava took her rifle from Foley. “Then why are we getting out the big guns?”
“In case we happen to cross paths with them on our way out. Listen, Ava, even if I was with an eight-man squad of highly-trained, well-armed soldiers, I’d walk away from this one. We don’t know how many more of them are inside. We don’t know if they have more scouts set up as an over-watch team. Way too many variables and unknowns.”
“What about the golden rule? Wouldn’t you want someone to help us out if we were in a bad spot?” She positioned her rifle and rolled down her window in case she had to engage.
“No. That’s the other thing. The store is full of innocent bystanders. Even if we’re able to take out all the gang members, the odds of us hitting non-combatants is ridiculously high. It’s unacceptable. The best thing we can do for ourselves and the people inside is walk away.” Ulysses checked the map on his phone before driving off. “When my team would plan an operation, we’d train for weeks. We’d learn everything we could about the buildings, terrain, weapons, and personnel. We’d hit them when they were the weakest. And still, with all the planning we did, things still went wrong.”
Ava sat silently as Ulysses found a back road to get them out of town and away from the disturbance. Other than his acknowledgment that Ava’s assessment was accurate, Foley managed to stay out of the disagreement between Ava and her father. She didn’t fault him for it. In fact, she recognized the wisdom in his restraint. And though she hated to let the wolves prey upon the shoppers at the Marble Falls Walmart, she also accepted Ulysses course of action as prudent.
Ulysses glanced at the rearview. “Ever been to Kingsland?”
“No,” Foley replied.
“Me, either.” Ava watched the rearview for trouble.
“It’s only about another ten miles. They’ve got a grocery. We’ll get what we can.”
When they arrived at the small market in Kingsland, Texas, Ulysses parked at the rear of the lot. After scanning the parking lot for souped-up lowriders, Ava and Ulysses passed their rifles to Foley to stow under the back seat.
“Hats on. Avoid eye contact and only speak when spoken too.” Ulysses stepped out of the truck and closed the door.
Ava and Foley followed him through the entrance doors of the grocery. Ava kept her eyes peeled for anything unusual. The first item of interest to catch her attention was the pump-action shotgun leaning up against the register. She made an effort to not stare and grabbed a cart.
Ulysses led the way down the first aisle. He began filling his cart with pasta and cans of sauce. He quickly emptied the canned sauces from the shelf and began carefully gathering s
everal glass jars of sauce.
Ava looked at her father. “Sam and Betty have made some room in their freezer since we arrived. I’m going to stock up on meat. I’ll see you guys over there.”
“Good idea, but let’s stick together.” Ulysses seemed satisfied with his haul of pasta and sauce.
“Okay.” Ava waited, then pushed her cart to the butcher’s section in the back of the store. She looked through the window where a man was packaging more meat. He wore a leather belt with a long-barreled revolver in the holster. Ava looked at Foley who had also spotted the armed butcher. Neither of them spoke.
Ulysses began piling stacks of beef into Ava’s cart. Ava selected several packages of pork, while Foley focused on restocking breakfast sausage and bacon. Next, they hit the coffee aisle, nearly filing an entire cart. The store only had six large bags of rice, so they took all of them. That cart was topped off with the lion’s share of the store’s dried bean selection.
“We’ll need to make two trips,” Ulysses said as he pushed the heavy cart. “We’ll check out, then come back for another haul.”
“I’ll stay outside and watch the truck.” Foley shoved the grocery cart which was laden down with rice and beans.
“I appreciate that.” Ulysses worked his way to the checkout counter and began unloading his cart.
The cashier was an older lady with grizzled hair. Her voice sounded like she preferred non-filtered cigarettes and her eyes looked like they belonged to someone who wouldn’t hesitate to empty that shotgun leaning up against her register. “I reckon y’all come from the city. Hear tell ain’t many grocers open in San Antonio; Austin neither. Lots of folks stockin’ up. Truck just left a while ago. Lucky for y’all. By the time we closed last night, could have fit about everything we had left on the shelves in them three carts y’all got.”