by Eric Gurr
“Lee, I know this is rough, and if this ever comes out, I’ll take the heat. But you have to understand, I did this for all four of us. Even Katana would have been in trouble. Steve was going to rat us out. I’m telling you.”
Then Lee asked a question Colby hadn’t considered. He was sure they would just go along.
“Rat us out for what?”
“For, well for, for… Steve thought we had caused all of the damage. He said it had gotten out of hand and each us was going to have to pay for all of the damage. He said we were trying to start a civil war and we would all go to prison for life. He was afraid. Steve was not a big believer in our cause. You guys know that. You have seen it with your own eyes. He was going to blame all of us. He was going to say he tried to stop it.
He tried to get me to go along with him, just like I said. He said we could get off the hook if we blamed you and Manny and Jennifer and Katana. The only reason I said I would was because it’s not fair to you guys.”
There was a soft knock at the door. As Colby opened the door, Jennifer came barreling in and threw herself on the floor sobbing.
Colby knelt beside her and calmly stroked her long black hair. She was so small. Colby and slept with her once. They were close, but she was just so awkward and shy. He told her what he had told Lee. How he had tried to save them and was willing to sacrifice himself if it came to that.
This made Jennifer even more frightened. Only now she was afraid for herself. She just wanted to go home.
“No!’ Colby protested. You can’t do that. We’ll look guilty for killing Steve. Who knows who he talked to. We have to stick together. We have to go together for our rally tomorrow. Just like this morning. You guys have to sit behind me on the podium. Lee, I need you. You’re the organizational brains behind this. I want you to give a little speech. Guys, we have to stick together. Let’s just get some sleep and see what happens in the morning.
He prepared them for leaving his room. He told them again about the cameras and how they had to act completely normal. They had to be laughing, and a few high fives would be great. Then, they were to stay in their rooms until ten AM, and come to his room.
They lingered much longer in the hallway than was necessary. Colby talked honestly about what they had accomplished. How they had brought people together and they were going to have their voices heard. Manny and Jennifer had actually loosened up a little and were feeling good.
Lee Fong couldn’t figure out exactly how he had gotten himself into this mess. But he trusted Colby completely, so he went along with everything.
When he went back to his room, Colby immediately turned off the television. The last thing he heard was that shots had been fired but police were suggesting it was probably unrelated to the protests which other than a few broken windows and burnt out cars had been mostly peaceful.
He snapped off the TV, turned out the lights and laid in bed thinking. Killing Steve had been necessary. Not just because he wasn’t on board, but because Colby knew all great leaders had to take command with violence.
He knew Manny, Lee or Jennifer would talk eventually. They would talk to other supporters of the cause. When they did this, it would earn him respect and fear. No one else would dare challenge him. He knew this would take time, but he knew it would happen.
What he didn’t know was what he would do if he were caught by the police. This was the risk. If the police didn’t immediately tie him to the crime, they never would. As word spread among the resistance that it was he who had killed Steve, the police would catch wind of this. But they would guess that it was just myth building on the part of Colby Ohlbinger created to hold power.
It would not occur to him that both things could be true.
But if he were a suspect immediately all would be lost. They would get Jennifer to break. And perhaps Lee as well. He thought about his friend Steve. He was nauseous.
He finally fell asleep. But the adrenaline still coursed through his body and he only slept for about four hours. At 7:30 in the morning he was wide awake with the television back on. The big story was still the protests. There had been a murder at the end of the night, but it appeared to be unrelated.
Another speech was scheduled for Three O’clock. Colby began to outline what he would say. At 8:00 his phone buzzed. It was a number he didn’t know. It was a local reporter. She was just asking questions about the protests and where he thought they were going. She asked about his treatment of the mayor and the broken windows and other vandalism.
Colby said that letting off a little steam was to be expected. He again accused the politicians of selling them out and not standing for what was right. The calls continued from other local and national media. They were all identical. The narrative was being formed. He wondered who drove that. How was it that they all seemed to agree on the story?
After an hour or so the calls stopped for a few minutes, and he went back to his notes for the big speech. He would not report Steve Oxley missing. He would tell the others that he must have decided to return to Wisconsin.
His phone buzzed again. It was his contact from CNN.
“This is Colby, how can I help you?” He answered.
“Colby, this is Jenks from CNN, are you sitting down?”
Colby’s entire body convulsed in an instant. He knew this was going to be about Steve. Did CNN already know? Had something happened? He forced himself to be calm.
“I am now Donovan. You got me worried, what’s happening?”
“Colby I hate to be the one to give you this news, but your friend Steve Oxley was murdered last night. I’m so sorry.”
That was good. They didn’t suspect him yet. He was silent for a long time. There was no need to say anything. He would let the reporter ask the questions.
“Colby, are you there buddy?”
“I’m here. I’m here. What? Are you sure? I mean, I went with him for a walk late last night. We kind of all split up and decided to head back home.”
Shit! He shouldn’t have offered anything. If the reporter talked to the police or mentioned that on the news they would be asking questions since he had seen him last.
“I’m sure Colby. I’ve got a source from the Portland PD. They said it’s Oxley. They tracked him back to Wisconsin. They think it was a robbery gone bad. His wallet was in his pocket, but there was no money in it.”
And another little piece of luck was in Colby’s favor. Steve had no cash because Colby had borrowed every dime of it. But in a flash of brilliance, he decided to turn this into his advantage.
“Donovan, were his credit cards in his wallet. Because Steve didn’t carry a lot of cash anyway.”
“Oh, I don’t know Colby.”
“Oh my God. I just, I’m sorry, this is just awful. Steve was, Steve was really the brains behind our little group. The guy was just the best. Thank you for the call, Donovan. I really appreciate it. I’ve got too, I guess I’ve got to tell the others. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I’m just. I gotta go Donovan.”
Colby hung up the phone without saying goodbye. He hoped his performance had worked.
He threw away the paper with the speech he had been writing and started over. He knew what he was going to say.
At three, as scheduled he approached the podium. The news of Steve Oxley’s death had not spread. He had his four soldiers seated behind him and the local leaders as well. He made sure to leave one seat empty in memory of Steve Oxley. In one brilliant move, he would solidify his control and make sure the police never dared look in his direction.
He ambled to the microphone his head down. The crowd was already yelling slogans. The quiet and respect he had earned yesterday already gone. He shook his head unconsciously at how fickle they could be. The group, misinterpreting the gesture, cheered even louder.
A feminist with her own megaphone was trying to get the crowd to her side. An immigrant with a Mexican flag was screaming for amnesty and citizenship.
Colby had worked madly for the
last hour before his speech by himself. He finally found the shirt he was looking for and was wearing it underneath his coat. He slowly and deliberately unzipped his coat revealing a Chicago White Sox jersey underneath. He simply pointed to the word “SOX” on the front of his shirt. He then backed away from the microphone and towards the crowd so everyone could see it.
He said nothing but twisted his face to pretend as if he were trying with all his strength to stop from crying. Then he walked back to the empty seat and sat.
The crowd and the media were both confused. Only Donovan Jenkins of CNN knew what was going on. He talked to his producer frantically.
“Keep the camera on him, keep it on him and zoom in.”
The shot was perfect. Colby lowered his head and covered his face. He shook his shoulders to fake crying. The crowd was now silent. He stood and walked to the microphone.
“Most of you don’t know what this shirt means do you? Well, I’m going to tell you exactly what it means.” He thundered.
“Sox! Sox was the man sitting in that chair yesterday. His name was Steve Oxley. He was such a passionate supporter of our cause. He was my strength. He was no coward. Sox was a fighter.
This morning I got a call from a good friend with a connection to the Portland Police Department. Steve Oxley was murdered in cold blood last night. Gunned down!
The police are going to tell you that Steve Oxley was murdered in an attempted robbery. They said his wallet had no cash in it. Those of us who knew Sox know that he never carried cash! And I have also found out that Steve Oxley’s credit cards weren’t taken!”
It would not be questioned how Colby knew this. But it was of course true. Donovan figured he did have a source in the Portland PD, as did everyone else.
“Steve Oxley wasn’t murdered in an attempted robbery. Steve Oxley was murdered either by one of two groups. The Portland police or the right wing infiltrators!”
The crowd was now furious. Colby knew he had momentarily lost control. There was no sense in trying to get it back. They didn’t know Steve Oxley at all. But they knew he was one of them and had been murdered. Lee would not get to give his speech. As Colby noticed the crowd starting to slowly disperse to vent their rage he started his own chant.
“Sox! Sox! Sox!”
Others joined the chant and stood to wait for more of the speech. But most joined the crowd in its exodus to destruction.
Colby joined the media to give his sad and somber interviews. He was now in control not just of the Madison Wisconsin resistance. Not just of the Portland Oregon resistance, but of the national resistance.
The police, having now been accused, could not even interview him as the last person who had seen him alive.
His last victory of the day had been a personal appeal to Scotch Anderson, though he never mentioned the name. He said during an interview that there had been some very wealthy benefactors who had donated money to him and his group. He wanted to thank them for their support. The money was now gone, sent to Steve Oxley’s parents. He did not want to beg, but he needed more help.
Ohlbinger had sent ten thousand dollars to Oxley’s parents. The next morning three backpacks with more than a million dollars stuffed in them showed up at his door. The money would continue.
Later that night Colby started to think about Steve. He wanted to cry. He wanted to go home. Why had he done it? He thought about the things he wanted to accomplish. He thought about the money he had. He could do it. He could succeed. If he kept focused he would change the country.
He tried to tell himself that Steve would have ruined everything. He felt that in some small way he was right. Steve was going to break. He was from a wealthy family. His father would have gotten to him. For Steve Oxley, this was a cause, but also something to do. He was not committed. There was no option.
There were going to be tough days ahead. Colby knew this. He may have to kill again. He knew this as well. But he would never do it face to face and up close. And he would never kill one of his own again.
Chapter 4
January: The early battles
The second inauguration was stopped immediately after President Johnson’s speech. The crowd was mixed with supporters and protestors shoving, pushing and a few fist fights had broken out.
The President was determined to make the traditional drive through the city. He had been warned that he could not leave the limousine. He had negotiated with the Secret Service to lower the window and wave to the crowd. The drive had not lasted five minutes when the first piece of fruit splattered along the side of the presidential limousine. Within seconds the entire motorcade was pelted with coins, fruit and small rocks.
The agents guarding the motorcade pulled their guns and advanced on the crowd. They were overwhelmed. Although no weapons had made it into the crowd, the fights were violent and many were injured. The start of Bill Johnson’s second term was not going well.
In the early evening just ten days later Johnson had called a meeting. It was supposed to be a small affair with the party leaders in the House and Senate to discuss the economy. But all eyes had been glued to the television.
The violence in Indianapolis was growing. This was unexpected. Other cities were experiencing protests and riots. But in Indianapolis, it had turned bloody. In Portland Oregon, it was clear that the protestors were in charge of the city. All across the nation, the resistance protestors raged.
Bond prices were rising by the day, and so was unemployment. The Feds second attempt at quantitative easing and printing money was failing, and Johnson was getting the blame.
The Republicans were sure they needed to cut spending and the Democrats were angry that the Republicans were even in charge.
“That lunatic in Portland Oregon has got the Democrats frozen.” Someone offered. The president nodded absently just watching the television. The slight majority the Democrats had in the House meant no spending cuts were going to get through anyway.
“What’s that guy’s name?” Someone else asked.
“Ohlbinger. He’s some young college professor or something I can’t recall. Hell, he’s on CNN and MSNBC every other day. From what we’re hearing he is actually running the city of Portland. They don’t dare make a move without him. Now there are even wild rumors that he killed one of his own lieutenants just to keep everyone in line. Local PD says it was just a robbery gone bad, but who knows. Well, they’ll all flame out in a couple of days anyway. What is our plan on the economy Mr. President?”
The president pulled himself from the television but before he could answer Victor Van Driessen spoke up. He wasn’t supposed to be here. But at the last minute, the President had invited him personally.
“No. I don’t think this is going to fade away. Not this time.”
“What makes you say that Vic?” The President asked.
“Because the crowds have been growing not shrinking. And look at some of the people in the crowd. In the past, they have either been mostly black, Hispanic, or young white men and women. They were kids really. And they were protesting for their own issues.
This crowd really is mixed. And there are men and women in their thirties and forties in the crowd. And it’s the same in other cities. The numbers are growing, and the rhetoric is becoming more violent. Nothing is held back.”
“I noticed that as well.” The President said.
“This economy is hurting people. Too many are losing their jobs and homes.”
“Van Driessen is right.” Vice-President Hoxworth added. “But as soon as the mob realizes what these socialists are actually after I think most of them might fall out.”
“Some of them. But most will probably stay. The younger people don’t have much hope of finding a job right now. So they’ll just hang out. The people in their thirties and forties are frustrated and ready to lash out. The kids aren’t going back to college and too many of the adults don’t have jobs to go back to. ” Van Driessen answered.
Just as they were to sit down
and discuss plans to stimulate the economy someone shouted, “Oh my God!” and the entire group turned to the television.
The reporter and cameraman were backpedaling and trying to show the scene at the same time. There were bodies lying all over the street. Gunshots could still be heard but they were sporadic.
The reporter was struggling to tell the story. The protestors had been attacked. They were unsure of the details but they had heard gunfire and seen people falling.
The reporter said that he had to sign off for a moment to get to safety and the feed returned to the anchor desk.
“Well, clearly there has been some kind of right-wing attack on these protestors who were for the most part peaceful. Isn’t that what you take from this John?”
The young woman looked to the older anchor for assistance.
“It does look that way Angela, but we really don’t know for sure.”
The President flipped through channels looking for more information. He called the head of the NSA, but they had no better information than the news channels.
Only a few minutes passed and the press secretary was already calling President Johnson for a statement. He told her to put them off for an hour and hung up the phone.
He turned back to the news and raised his hand to silence the room.
They were going back to the scene where the reporter had a witness to what had happened. The reporter was holding the microphone and told the anchors that they had a witness, and perhaps participant in the violence that had taken place.
Standing next to her was a tall thin white man with short blonde hair. An AK47 rifle was slung over his shoulder. He was neatly dressed, clean shaven and had bright blue eyes.
“Sir you say you were in the middle of this violence. I see you have a gun as well. Can you tell us what is your name and what transpired here?”
“Uh, yes ma’am. My name is Tanner Ritchie. I’m from Missouri and I’ve been up here in Indianapolis with a few friends. We were staying in a hotel downtown and realized we couldn’t get out safely. So we grabbed our guns and decided to just make a run for it and head out of the city to get back home.