Civil War II

by Eric Gurr

  He had already called the High school where he worked as an English teacher and told them he wouldn’t be in for work. Too much to do. They had understood completely.

  He spent the day in furious, focused activity. By Five O’clock they had to be in place. There would be a natural crowd of people leaving work for home. The national news would still be all about the election, but it would be before prime time. He was organizing a protest, but he badly needed this to become a riot. If it flamed out, he would spend a few nights in jail and his parents would need to pay some fines.

  At twenty-nine years old, and on a teacher’s salary, he didn’t have much money. But his mother and father were also intellectuals. Academics who knew the importance of his work. They were at their vacation home in Florida. But he could easily have them transfer money before they got home to Madison.

  The crowd he had assembled was bigger than he had hoped. Over ten thousand had already shown. He knew more were on the way. Many if not most from out of town, but they were flooding in by the minute.

  When the news broke that not only was the election in doubt but that there was a plan by the Republicans to throw thirty million people out of the country more people had decided to protest.

  He grabbed the megaphone and walked to the podium just erected. They had no permits. This was the start of a revolution. This was just. He would lead.

  “My friends.”

  Colby started softly. He wanted the crowd to listen. He wanted them focused on his every word. These protests were always tough. Too many people with too many different issues. Everyone chanting slogans related to their own cause.

  But the crowd fell instantly silent. He paused for nearly a minute.

  “They are trying to steal our country.”

  And then the crowd erupted. He had to manage this. He let them scream for just a few seconds and raised his hand to silence them. The crowd instantly hushed, surprising Colby again.

  He needed to make a quick change. His mind went back to the great speeches he had read. He had to control this. He had to let it build slowly over time. Let the rage build.

  He knew if he uttered President Johnson’s name, or the Republicans, he would lose them. They would start shouting and screaming, and then they would dissipate into their own little groups of anger.

  The Pro-Choice groups would peel off, the environmentalists would form another small group and on and on.

  He had to keep them together. He had to get them interested and get them to shut up. Instead of throwing red meat, he decided to change course. He didn’t want anger from them. Not yet.

  “We are on the cusp of a great victory.”

  Again he paused and scanned the faces in the crowd. There was confusion. That’s what he wanted.

  “For so long, we have worked so hard. For so long we have been civil and patient. Despite the gerrymandering, we have won. Despite the cheating, we have won. Small victories at first, but then bigger and bigger.

  When we have lost the presidential elections, it has all too often been a loss because of some arcane electoral college system rooted in old traditions, from old men, from another age.”

  He had planned on hitting the white supremacy points here but decided to soften it.

  “We have had setbacks. But we have persevered. We are standing at the door of a just and righteous nation. We have prevailed. And now, as we are on the cusp of the final victory, I can see that some of you are willing to let it all slip away. Many of you are here for your own interests and for your own groups.

  My friends, we must come together. We are one group. We are one united people, and we only want one thing.”

  He let the air still. He saw the faces focused intently on him. They wanted to know what the thing is they all wanted. A smile slowly came across his face. This was the moment. If he got it right here, he had them. He had his army.

  “We simply want what rightfully belongs to us. That is all. For too long we have been the ones to struggle with injustice among our minorities. We are the ones who have struggled to make ends meet while the millionaires throw us their spare change.

  Let me ask you friends. If we had the money that was owed to us would we have the problems of crime? If we had the money that the billionaires are hoarding, would we have so much trouble paying our bills? If we had the money they took from us, would our voices be silenced?”

  Ohlbinger’s voice was still soft. He kept it purposefully low and quiet. He wanted them to strain to hear. To make sure they could hear his every word. He wanted the calm and peaceful in the moments before the explosion.

  He could feel the energy building. The crowd was visibly moved. They were shuffling and nodding their heads.

  “And now!”

  He screamed at the top of his lungs. The crowd to a person was startled and as one stepped back.

  “And now that we have our victory they want to steal it from us?! The moment our payment is due and ready to be delivered they want to snatch it from us?

  Again?!”

  The crowd was getting angrier by the word. Ohlbinger paused and bowed his head. After a few seconds, he simply started shaking his head back and forth, back and forth. He dropped his voice again.

  “No, my friends. No, my fellow patriots. No, my fellow warriors. Not this time. Not this time.”

  He raised his head slowly. “We have had enough. We have had our birthright stolen from us for the last time. We will not be abused again. This is wrong. It is time for us to fight. It is time.”

  The murmur of the crowd was growing. Colby had only minutes before he lost them. It was time to seal the deal.

  “Do not quit. Do not give up this time.”

  They quieted slightly. So he raised his voice again.

  “Do not let the person standing next to you give up. Be the strength they need. They want you to do this! They want you to help them fight. Do not go to work this week. There is food all around us. Take it! It belongs to you anyway.

  We must fight. We must stop this fraudulent recount from happening. We know who won. We know who cheated. Don’t let them put on their little show! Don’t lie down again. Don’t surrender again.

  You have been beaten and beaten and abused by President Johnson and his dirty Republican troops. Rise up and fight back! It is your country, it is your money and it is your life that they are stealing!

  Do not let the cowards and the plants alter your course. Oh yes, there are plants among you. There are FBI agents and Republican operatives. You will know them because they will try to get you to quit. They will urge you to be peaceful. The will suggest that there is time. They think you are cowards. They think with a few words and a pocket full of change you will go quiet again. When you see those cowards, know that they are infiltrators. Drive them out!”

  The crowd was in a frenzy. It had not gone as he had planned, but it had worked. Now the rest of the act had to be completed. He knew every step from here perfectly.

  He looked at the crowd in disgust. He wanted them shamed. He wanted them to fight. If they did not, they were cowards.

  He threw down the megaphone violently and stormed off the platform. He had told his close group that when he did this, they were to follow him and get others to follow.

  The entire group marched to the center of the city.

  “This city is closed! This nation is ours!”

  He started a chant, and the rest followed. He knew he would lose some. They were unimportant. By the weekend he would see the size of his army. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the perfect rock. He had spent so much time and had so much attention to detail even the rocks he picked had been meticulously selected.

  There was one in each pocket. Only two. The first throw had to be perfect. He walked close to the largest window he could find. In a strange twist, it was the offices of the headquarters of the Democratic Party. He did not know this, but it would become the luckiest thing he had done. He let the rock fly through the window. The crowd picked
up the cue, and the rioting began in earnest.

  That night, the entire national media led with the Wisconsin riots. The rock going through the window of the Democratic Party, they said, had been a warning not to the Democrats, but to all politicians. They would not be subdued. They talked about the young, energetic and passionate leader Colby Ohlbinger.

  The recount in Wisconsin was temporarily halted. Over the next days and weeks, people from all over the country came to join Colby Ohlbinger. They came to say that enough was enough. They would not be cheated again.

  Small tent cities cropped up in parks and even along the broad sidewalks. CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, even the major networks had come to Madison. They all wanted to interview Ohlbinger. There were over two-hundred thousand protesters crowded in to the city.

  But it was getting cold. And he was getting bored. He also knew that he could not lead a revolution from Madison. He had to get to Portland Oregon. The protests there had been more violent and the police were starting to crack down.

  He was sure there were enough supporters to keep Madison disrupted. They just needed to maintain. But if he was to truly lead he had to make it to the west coast.

  On December 1st he left Madison quietly. He selected a group to lead in his absence and told them he would be back soon. He took five people with him. Two young girls, a Hispanic man, an Asian kid he hardly knew and one other white man. His sometimes confidant Steve Oxley.

  He didn’t trust Oxley completely, but he knew him better than just about anyone else. His diverse group had just the right mix. One of the young girls was a radical lesbian.

  Colbey knew she wasn’t so much committed to the cause as committed to destruction. She was utterly unfocused but violent to a fault. The others were sycophants. Other than possibly Oxley, who seemed a bit too contentious.

  They landed first in Seattle. This was by design. It was merely to build his credibility. The only person he had notified, outside his small group, was a reporter for CNN. She would be waiting for him at the airport and accompany him to the center of the protests in the city. He gave one speech, virtually the same speech he had given in Madison. He then mingled with the crowd and had dinner with some of the leaders.

  Colby didn’t listen to anything they said. He dominated the conversation, told them to fight at all costs, and be on the lookout for the cowards and the infiltrators. He knew what he was doing was right. He wanted to help these people. But he knew he had to push them. If he didn’t the left would lose again. He was tired of losing.

  He left the restaurant without paying his share of the bill or that of his team. But he left them with the impression that he was in charge, and revolutions needed leaders.

  And then they left by car for Portland. He had no money left for plane tickets. He knew the rest would take care of itself.

  By the time he made it to Portland, he was becoming more famous. CNN had led with his surprising appearance in Seattle. The crowd had been energized. He was greeted as a savior by the committed. The protests had been dwindling.

  Those who study history understand the importance of luck. Luck can win a battle. Luck can elevate a mediocre person to leadership in the blink of an eye. Colby Ohlbinger was about to get very lucky.

  This was where he would make his bid for national leadership. CNN had scooped everyone with his surprise visit to Seattle.

  So earlier in the day, as he was driving into Portland, he called every media contact he had made. He would be giving a significant speech the following day at 6:00 PM.

  This would provide the media with time to talk about what was coming. It would also allow time for fellow fighters across California, Oregon, Washington, and anywhere else they may be, to assemble.

  The first bit of luck came from the Supreme Court, and it was good news. Good for Ohlbinger at least. The protests in Madison would make it impossible for any kind of an accurate recount. Thus the election night results would hold, and Johnson would win his second term as president.

  The bad luck, which would also benefit Ohlbinger, was that the people of Wisconsin had had enough. The police were moving in from all over to clear out the protesters. It was becoming clear that if Ohlbinger wasn’t there to lead, the protests would all apart.

  A growing show of force by the police from many different cities was converging on Portland to restore order there as well. But with Ohlbinger’s arrival, they had been ordered by the mayor to stand down for a few days.

  The crowd in Portland was primed. This time he didn’t need a cheap megaphone. A microphone and speakers had been set up.

  The crowd stretched as far as he could see. Several local radio stations were also carrying his speech live. Once again he started his speech softly. In fact, he started without saying a single word. He just bowed his head shook it back and forth, over and over. Finally, he looked up and let his eyes scan the crowd.

  “I told you this was going to happen.” He said softly.

  He kept his eyes on the crowd. Scanning faces and accusing them all. Accusing them of being weak. Accusing them of being cowards. No words were spoken, but all knew the message he was conveying.

  “I told you this was going to happen!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Mayor Sheila Everson was sitting with Ohlbinger’s group of five, and five local leaders at the podium. She was a lifelong Democrat and self-avowed social justice warrior. Everson had invited one council member to the podium as well, and Colby had thought it a great idea to show solidarity. She felt her presence would soften Ohlbinger’s rhetoric. She had miscalculated.

  “Have we finally had enough?” He continued. Not yelling anymore, but his voice filled with passion. He was on the verge of tears.

  “Have we finally been lied to enough? Have we finally had enough stolen from us? Have we finally come to the point where we will no longer lie down?”

  The rock that he had thrown through the window of the Madison Wisconsin Democrat headquarters window came back to his mind. When he found out the window he had broken was Democrat party headquarters he had thought it a huge mistake.

  When he heard what the media was saying about it, he was confused. Why would he challenge the Democrats? They may not be much in his eyes, but it was the only team he could play for, wasn’t it?

  And then it hit him. That awful stroke of good luck. He could take that party right now. He could run it from anywhere in the country. Any decision they made would have to go through him. They would be forced to fight for what was right.

  He turned and stared at the mayor. The sixty-year-old, former human resources executive for a large tech company nodded and smiled. She was a tiny woman with perfectly styled gray hair. She preferred leaving her reading glasses on at all times and peaking over the top of them. Clapping her hands, she gave Colby a thumbs up. Mayor Sheila Everson was nervous. She had told her security detail not to come to the podium, but to stay close.

  Colby pulled the microphone from its stand and walked over to her. His mind was racing. He knew he had to get this right.

  He put a soft smile on his face as he approached her. They had met briefly just before the speech. He had been polite and respectful to her.

  His smile put her momentarily at ease, and she stood slowly. And the smile on Ohlbinger’s face turned to a sneer.

  “Are you going to fucking help us this time?” He screamed at her.

  Frightened, she stumbled back and fell into her chair. The fall startled Ohlbinger as well, but he quickly recovered. The crowd roared their approval.

  “Or are you another plant?” He screamed again. He turned and stepped back to the microphone.

  “We cannot abide by any more of these politicians who tell us they will fight for us, and then go back to their dinners with Republicans, billionaires and other thieves.”

  He paid no attention to the security detail behind him removing the mayor and the other member of city council. When he caught them out of the corner of his eye, he stopped and watched.
<
br />   “Good! Take them away!”

  He said it as if he was directing the security team.

  “We need no more politicians who are unwilling to stand with us. Leaders who are too cowardly to fight with us must be weeded out. We need no more of the bought and paid for politicians. Let the billionaire’s puppets hide as they always do.

  I came to Portland to fight with you.

  We came!”

  He turned back again to acknowledge the other supporters remaining on the podium behind him.

  “We have no money. We spent our last few dollars on a cheap hotel room that we will share. We have no money even for dinner tonight. But we don’t care! We are here to fight. And when the fight is over, and we have won, all of us will have full bellies, nice homes, and free health care! All of us will win!

  This time we aren’t going to let you infiltrate our ranks! This time and in this place, the line will hold! Madison was the beginning of the battle, Portland is the center!”

  He ranted for thirty minutes. When the crowd was sufficiently angered he led them to the center of the city, and to the mayhem.

  Katana Coolidge, the warrior lesbian, had been briefed on what to do. He needed her first and foremost to start by burning his rental car. Then he wouldn’t get stuck with the bill.

  She did as directed and the long weekend of rioting began in Portland.

  After just an hour Ohblinger left for his motel. His car was burned and unusable, so he had to walk. The other four, along with two of the local leaders joined him back at his room.

  He sat down on the bed and feigned exhaustion. “God I’m hungry and tired.” He said. This is where he turned on the charm. Within minutes one of the local leaders had ordered pizza and made a few other phone calls.

  Ohlbinger knew that people couldn’t always be riled up and angry. When there were smaller groups, things had to be relaxed. Then they would relate that peace and calm with being with him.