by JD Dutra
The way Nazeer said the word ‘enemies’ made Nathan chuckle.
“Never mistake our arrogance for weakness. Remember that every country out there has an atomic bomb, but we are the only one with the guts to use them.”
“Such acts of brutality only fuel the hatred against your nation. It feeds the will of your enemies, giving them banners to rally under. Are you blind to this truth?”
Before Nathan could answer, the sound of military personnel carriers broke their conversation. They were painted black and tan and they began to make their way towards them.
“Fall back in line and ready your men,” said Nathan, and Nazeer stood still without responding, waiting for the group to catch up to him. Nathan kept on walking but he could feel Nazeer’s gaze on him. When looked back at the Iraqi, there was nothing but mistrust and scorn between them.
Within minutes, the military personnel carriers pulled up beside them with their doors towards the group. At Nathan’s command, they stopped and waited for instructions. The day was bright and Nathan’s watch read 6:30 A.M. He was ahead of schedule by a few hours.
Tom got out of one of the personnel carriers with his arms open, holding a blue water cooler in each hand. He was wearing the same pair of worn out jeans, and his shirt was even more scandalous than the one Nathan saw him wear two days ago.
“How was the walk kids? Did you all get a tan?” Tom said with a chuckle as he walked towards Nathan and his men, giving them one of the water coolers, and another to Nazeer.
“Let’s get out of here, Tom, we need to talk,” said Nathan, walking towards one of the military personnel carriers; his muscular legs were used to rigorous exercise, but his feet were killing him.
“Not that one; you and the boys ride with me,” said Tom with an arm across Nathan’s chest. Then he turned to the Iraqis. “Nazeer, you and your men get into that truck,” he said pointing to the furthest in line. As Nazeer and the others walked away, Tom’s driver got the illegals into the third vehicle, telling them that there was water inside. A few illegals waved a hand in thanks, but they all looked too weary to make a fuss; nothing passed between the Americans and the Iraqis, their time together was simply over.
When everyone else was inside their vehicles, Nathan’s team got into theirs. Nathan took the front seat by the window, with Tom in between him and the driver. As they headed towards the ranch one of the personnel carriers followed them, but the third, the one with the illegals, turned northwest, towards the middle of nowhere and into the desert.
“Where are they going?” Asked Nathan, drinking heavily from the cooler before passing it back to his men.
“They are going to… immigrate to a better place,” said Tom, his face showed no emotion. “We seem to be missing a few of them, what happened?”
“Some militia men came trying to arrest us and spooked some of them out into the desert,” said Nathan, reaching back for the water cooler for another drink.
“Oh really?” Tom seemed surprised. “Did the militia give you any trouble?”
“None we couldn’t handle.”
“That’s all I care about,” said Tom, patting Nathan on the knee.
They entered the ranch’s gates, an opening in-between two thin wooden posts with a few rows of barbed wire between them. The ranch house had looked white from the distance, but it was actually a dirty yellow and caked with dust. Some of the red tile roof was caved in, other parts were missing and anyone looking at it would think right away that it was an abandoned ranch. There were unmarked vans, black RVs, a few police cars and a few dozen SUVs and the place was swarming with activity.
There were men in black ops uniforms giving direction and instruction to groups of other men that looked like the Iraqis he’d brought into the country. There were doctors checking the vital signs on people who looked like they had just arrived, others had a fresh change of clothes in hand and looked like they were going inside the abandoned ranch to change. There was even a giant barbecue pit in the front lawn with Mesquite wood on it ready to be set on fire. Two men were butchering a full grown cow that hung upside down, dangling from a portable crane; the dark blood under it reminded Nathan of the patriots that lay dead in the desert. The camp smelled of cigarettes, coffee and body odor.
“The doctors will see you and your group Nathan. We’ll make sure you guys are hydrated and fed, give you clothes to change into and then one of the SUVs will take you to Fort Stockton, a few miles north. There is a small airport there that will take you onto bigger airports until you’re all routed home,” said Tom, getting out of the vehicle after Nathan.
When Nathan looked at the Iraqi’s armored vehicle, they were all out of it already and a man dressed in black tactical pants and shirt was already instructing them; Nathan took the opportunity to look one more time at Nazeer. He seemed to be listening attentively, but during his gazes around the camp, he would narrow his eyes at the women there, as if he couldn’t decide if he hated or wanted them. The men with him were still not talking, smiling or doing anything, they just listened and nodded.
“Tom, I want to talk to you about Nazeer,” said Nathan and Tom could hear the worry in his voice.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Tom as Nathan’s men went to talk to the doctor and other people waiting for them.
“I don’t trust him. I don’t care how many times him and those guys have been smuggled in here, I don’t feel comfortable with them in our country. If you want the details I’ll tell you, but it’s not only me, the other guys also think Nazeer is some kind of maniac. As for the other Iraqis, who the hell knows, they wouldn’t speak to anybody - including each other - the entire trip.”
“Listen Nathan, these guys will be here for a week, training right here, under heavy supervision, then another group will smuggle them back into Mexico. They’ll get into a bus, go to the coast, then get onto a boat and head back to the Middle East, just like they did several times before. You’ve got nothing to worry about, got it?” Tom held Nathan’s gaze for a moment and nodded before he began to walk towards the others. The message to Nathan was clear, this conversation was over.
Nathan took a deep breath as a doctor approached him. She began to ask questions about his health, touching his forehead and running a small flashlight over his eyes. As she took his pulse Nathan tried to look around for Nazeer and his men, but they were lost in the multitude of people, and he couldn’t even find the men in his own group.
An hour later he’d taken a shower, eaten and said his goodbyes to Tom, who assured Nathan he’d have three weeks off. He then got into the SUV with his men and made their way to the Fort Stockton airport. The entire trip took two hours and although all of them had a lot on their minds, the cool air that blew from the car’s vents lulled everyone to sleep.
Chapter 16
White House, Washington D. C.
Friday, October 23rd, 2020
8:52 A.M
Barry had spent over an hour on a chair as two people drafted in from a movie production company worked on his makeup, carefully hiding the traces of the bruising around his eye. He was preparing for a speech that would go out live from the White House gardens precisely at 9 A.M. Eastern Standard Time. He thought he wouldn’t be asked to be on camera so soon, but things were happening too fast; he had to address the nation.
He was dressed sharply in one of his $3500 suits, courtesy of the American taxpayer and the Federal Reserve Bank’s printing press. The White House Chief of Telecommunications politely asked him to get ready; they would go live in five minutes. Barry waited to one side of the lectern, off the camera’s view, going over the prepared speech while sipping a cup of his favorite coffee. The aromatic blend of Brazilian coffee was imported directly from Mato Grosso at a rate no taxpayer would appreciate. He gazed into his cup and loosely put together the cost of the grains plus the time his personal chef took to prepare it.
I’m sipping liquid gold.
He rolled the flavorful coffee in his mouth
, his nose not getting enough of its delicious aroma. It was so different to the coffee he used to drink at the office of the non-profit organization he had started when he couldn’t find a job; that was the first step that led him into politics. His eyes gazed at the bullet points of his speech.
Lie upon lie on top of more lies. What kind of man would do this to the people he led?
He hoped he could tell it all with a straight face; this was the part of his job he hated the most. This was exactly the kind of task that had aged him well beyond his years and he tried not to think of how he would be remembered in history.
“30 Seconds Mr. President,” said his Chief of Telecommunications, gently taking the few pages of the speech and the fine ceramic cup from Barry’s hands.
Barry cleared his voice, pulled on the collar of his suit and eyed the Director. He was wearing a large headset and his hand was in the air preparing for a five second countdown. Each of the fingers on his hands curled up one by one, and when his smallest finger went into the air, Barry walked casually from his waiting spot and onto the red carpet that led to the lectern. His teleprompter was on, ready for him.
He gazed directly into the camera, his hands resting gently on the sides of the lectern. The camera was placed far enough away so that the makeup around his eyes was barely noticeable.
“My fellow Americans, today I’d like to talk with you about what’s going on in our country. Our strong economy keeps on growing at an unprecedented pace and now that we have, once again, optimized the way we add up our productivity to show more of what happens in America, our Gross Domestic Product numbers will be higher than all of the other countries in the world combined. That’s something you, as Americans, should be immensely proud of.
“Inflation is at an outstanding 8.5% a year and it keeps on growing year after year, as directed by the Federal Reserve, which is great for the economy. A new wave of economic growth is coming towards us, but it needs a little extra wind to make it to our shores, so now is the time to expand our monetary supply even more. That is why I will, as your President, sign into law an executive order that will allow the Federal Reserve to print over one trillion dollars, each and every month. Our country will no longer be hostage to debt ceiling negotiations, but instead this brand new money will be pumped into our economy, aimed directly into creating new jobs where we need them the most, to support our country’s infrastructure and essential growth in technology.
“There will be a clause in the executive order that, if necessary, will allow me to increase the amount of new money in circulation. If you add that to the fact that other countries are no longer hoarding our money and our dollars are starting to flow back into America, this is further good news that there will be plenty of dollars for everyone in our wonderful country.”
“I’d also like to formally announce that the Federal Minimum Wage will be raised from $11 to $25 dollars an hour in six months, and to $40.00 in a year’s time. Please pay no attention to those who say that raising the minimum wage will increase the prices of the goods and services you need, or keep the uneducated workers out of the workforce. Think only about how having that extra money in your family’s budget which will help you buy more of the products and services that make your family’s life more comfortable. American families will have more disposable income, and when they spend it, it will push our economy to even higher levels; our economic indicators will shatter every record that lies before us.
“Now I know the international media and the same old doomsayer pundits, the people who oppose my political views, and especially those who aren’t happy that an African American is the President of the United States, will say that doubling the minimum wage overnight and pumping a trillion dollars a month into our economy is a bad idea. Pay no attention to them and reject those voices. Taking more money home is what you need and everything else on the subject is just smoke and mirrors; it’s not worth debating or paying attention to. I need you to remember that personally and help remind each other of that as well.
“But what good is economic growth if our very lives are at risk? I would like to take this moment to assure you that the viral infection reports that you are seeing on social media and on the alternative media are misguided. They show people dying in gruesome and painful ways, supposedly from an airborne virus that spreads quickly from an infected person to a healthy one, causing death in just 24 to 48 hours. I assure you that the Center for Disease Control has been rigorously looking into these reports, and nothing out of the ordinary is happening. I repeat, nothing out of the ordinary.
“It is their wholly and scientifically researched opinion that these horrific deaths were most likely caused by either illegal drugs that were chemically unbalanced, or by a new form of illegal narcotic we have yet to identify. Reports of similar deaths in other parts of the world are coming in through unreliable means, so please be sensible and do not give into pointless panic. World leaders are investigating this issue as well, but we all believe these are isolated cases. I invite you, in fact I personally urge you, to join me in spreading this truth and narrative to your neighbors and family members; there is no reason for desperation. Please play your part in helping me share these most important messages by sharing it on your favorite social media profile. Let’s welcome our bright future with open arms. It’s a great time to be living in America. Thank you.”
Exactly three seconds after Barry spoke his last works, the director’s arm went in the air to cut the recording and the video production staff began to scramble again, everyone doing the best they could to look busy and productive in front of the President. Barry let his hands fall aside, and moved his feet from behind the lectern; they felt like they were made out of lead.
“You did great Barry,” said Robyn, leaning in for a dry peck on his lips.
“Thank you, Robyn,” he replied and his tone of voice was now the complete opposite of how he had just spoken. Now he came across as someone who had lost his self-respect, his voice flat and completely lacking of any belief.
“Barry, when can we talk?”
“Not right now, I need a break. Going on TV and reading this… stuff… just drains me Robyn,” he replied, looking around the filming set up on the White House lawn for his Brazilian coffee.
“You were in the hospital for over two weeks, lying down and resting,” said Robyn with an edge to her voice and her hands on her hips, “So you should…”
Barry silenced her with a look and a single raised finger before he just turned and walked away; staff members watching this scene unfold began to whisper to one another. He went to one of his chef’s coffee carts, to get himself a refill and saw her shadow advancing towards him from behind.
“Don’t you turn your back on me Barry! You›re probably going to like what I›m going to say, since you seem to want to keep your distance from me. I’m taking the kids to spend some time at Camp David. We are leaving this afternoon —”
“Have a good time!” There was music in his voice when he cut her off, he turned away, making a point not to look at her as he sipped his coffee. It’s soothing flavor on his tongue helped shut out her voice as she spewed more of her typical venom towards him.
Barry walked away once again and this time the shadow stayed put. He walked back to the Oval Office where he gave instruction to an aide before he picked up the cell phone on his desk. He pushed button number 1 on his speed dial and a deep male voice answered.
“Good morning, Barry.”
“I need to play golf. Meet me at Belmont Country Club in an hour.”
“Very well,” replied the smooth voice and the phone clicked off. Barry slipped his phone into his pocket as he walked alone towards his bedroom and changed his clothes before being driven to his favorite Country Club.
The club manager had ensured that there would be no other players closely in front of or behind Barry and his secret servicemen were placed at strategic points around the course. He was alone near the electric cart, waiting for
his company. A few minutes later a dark man with a thick mane of Rasta hair walked up alone to the cart. He was dressed in slacks and an elegant polo shirt and large round sunglasses hid his eyes. Barry nodded at the man before he jumped into the driver’s seat and his companion sat next to him.
“Why do you like golf so much?” Asked the man, his head bobbing and moving slightly from the movement of the cart.
“If you played my role for a living Lamar, you’d golf all the time too,” said Barry, with a sarcastic smile.
“In a way, my life is more stressful than yours, Barry, being between you and ‘them’ is not easy,” said Lamar as he turned to Barry, bringing his sunglasses down to look at the President’s face.
“What are you looking at?”
“Your face, it doesn’t look as bad as they said. It looks brand new. Did they give you a facelift after they put it all back together?” Said Lamar with amusement.
“That attack was unnecessary. I know it was a message for me to play along, but I want to know who did that to me. Give me a name Lamar,” said Barry, stopping the cart at the first tee.
“I don’t know the name, but it was one of ‘them’ of course,” said Lamar, finally answering the question as he got out of the cart, to look over and choose a golf club.
“An Enforcer? I saw his skull Lamar, and he head butted me with it until I passed out. I did some research of my own and was shocked, to say the least, when I found out that the people you and I work for aren’t like you and I.”
Barry took out his own driver, placed his ball and took a couple of practice swings. Then, with the memory of the pain in his head making him put extra force behind his club, he watched the ball fly through the air and land at the edge of the fairway. Lamar placed his ball and, with no practice swing, launched it to land 20 yards further ahead and closer to the hole. Barry simply grunted as he walked back to the cart and Lamar followed. He sat beside Barry again before he spoke.