“Where you want to go, Jake?”
“The only place I can think of that might be safe.”
Geram smiled weakly and nodded in agreement as he draped his arm around Jake’s neck.
Ch apter 9
Senator Ames
Decatur, Mississippi
The tiny café nestled in the middle of the quaint downtown district bustled with activity. Patrons crowded into the cramped booths and shoulder up to the counter. Others leaned against the walls and sipped their coffee while they made idle conversation with their friends and neighbors. This was no social gathering, however. The café was full for one reason. The restaurant’s generator was the most reliable in town. No one wanted to miss the broadcast.
The café’s menu had been reduced to only the most spartan of offerings. Stale coffee, fresh milk, yard eggs, smoked ham and biscuits were all that was available. Most of the patrons did not seem to care, though. The meal came with a sense of normalcy that they all dearly missed.
The quaint café was one of the few remaining businesses in town, as if Decatur had much to offer before. Its population had been less than fifteen hundred before the world imploded. There were probably less than a thousand residents remaining, though. The ones who chose to stay certainly did not fault those that left. Life had gotten much harder in Decatur, but the people who remained were strong willed, and looked out for each other. Fortunately, folks had managed to pull together. The town was probably more close-knit than ever before.
Decatur, Mississippi was named after Stephen Decatur, Jr., the youngest man to ever reach the rank of captain in the history of the U.S. Navy. Stephen Decatur fought in the Quasi-War, the Barbary Wars and the War of 1812. He received numerous awards and accolades. He was dubbed the Terror of the Foe. One of his feats during a battle near Tripoli was described as, “the most bold and daring act of the Age,” by Lord Horatio Nelson. Decatur the city had quickly learned that, if they were to survive, they would need to develop the attributes of their namesake.
The people of Decatur waited anxiously this morning, like many across the nation, to hear the words of another man that they hoped would be a terror to some very different foes. The nation had been beset by the foes of sovereign default, of disastrous foreign policies and endless wars, and the foes of incremental fascism.
The administration had utterly failed to guide the nation through gentle, economic landing. Instead, the country had experienced a violent crash. Although extremely popular before, the president’s approval ratings were now horribly and permanently dismal. People were suffering. They longed for a champion.
Senator Ames had been a relatively unknown politician from southern Ohio. He had served one term in the House prior to running for Senate. He had been largely ignored by the political and media establishment prior to his presidential bid because his strong, libertarian ideologies were not popular in the Washington circles. One might even argue that he was an anathema of sorts. But those same ideologies that had made him a Washington outsider now caused him to resonate with a public tired of government largesse and hungry for another way. He was young, handsome, articulate and dazzlingly charismatic. His powerful, rousing oratories seemed to energize crowds everywhere he spoke.
Senator Ames stepped onto the scene under the radar and completely blindsided the establishment. Voters flocked to his simple honesty, and he absolutely annihilated his competition. By mid-February, he had won all but one of the primaries. By the month’s end, all of the other hopefuls had withdrawn from the race and begrudgingly endorsed him. The political machine and its allies in the media scrambled to find any skeletons in his closet, but there seemed to be none. He was hailed as the last, honest man in politics. His path to the presidency was not inevitable, but it appeared that limited government advocates and freedom lovers finally had a fighting chance. That was of course, before the world changed.
First, Europe collapsed into the old hatreds and nationalists tendencies that had gripped it for centuries. It was hardly noticeable at first, but then it began to accelerate exponentially. Next, Japan defaulted on several major obligations and spiraled into hyperinflation.
With the world quickly disintegrating around it, Turkey left NATO and reclaimed the entirety of Cyprus as its own. It then invaded Bulgaria, Armenia, Syria and half of Iran. Iran’s remaining half had fallen into a bloody revolution that led to the slaughter of tens of thousands, and the rise of an even more ruthless regime than before. Israel was surrounded by complete and total chaos. They had nuclear weapons aimed in all directions, but particularly at Ankara. Russia began to engulf Georgia and the other eastern bloc states. The world had fallen into complete chaos.
Then the inevitable happened, the tentacles that had been strangling the rest of the world finally spread across the Atlantic. The troubled banking system in the states was already in total disarray, artificially subsisting on fiat created at will. When the sovereign defaults of Europe began, it was all too much and too fast for the Federal Reserve to counter. New bank failures were announced daily. The FDIC’s insurance fund was emptied overnight. People were unable to withdraw any amount of money. Bank holidays became more common than days that they were actually open for business.
Then, in the third week of March, Black Thursday happened. The markets lost over half of their value on Wednesday and Thursday of that week. Some even believed it was part of a larger, coordinated, financial attack by a foreign government. Malicious or not, massive amounts of wealth vanished in a matter of hours. And so began the Greatest Depression’s American Spring.
Now, people were not even sure there would be an election. They were afraid the current administration would declare a state of emergency and simply forego a vote. If so, it was doubtful congress would intervene. Still, the senator campaigned relentlessly. The crowds were smaller, but they still showed up for a glimmer of light in an increasingly dark world.
Recently, he had begun an impromptu radio campaign. Much of the internet was under the strictest of governmental controls, and the remaining media outlets were openly hostile to Ames’ policies on limited government.
His radio broadcasts were recorded by HAM operators and independent stations and rebroadcast across the nation. Some state-run programs, such as Radio Lonestar, carried them as well.
Today, however, was a rare live broadcast. The café became increasingly crowded as the clock ticked ever closer to the scheduled nine o’clock start. The waitresses squeezed through the crowd again and again with plates comprising the same order, as if they were stuck in some strange, breakfast time loop.
Suddenly, the café was filled with the sound of applause coming through the speakers. The room’s bedlam of conversations was reduced to hushed whispers. The patrons waited anxiously for the junior senator to calm the crowd and begin his speech.
“Greetings Rapid City, South Dakota, and to everyone else within the sound of my voice. I’m humbled and honored that you would sacrifice your time to hear me speak. I hope that I don’t disappoint you today. We’re living in unprecedented times. As deplorable as the world’s condition is, I believe we’re merely standing at the precipice of an extended, dark period for humanity.
I won’t lie to you; you’ve been lied to by so many others for so very long. I don’t even know if it’s possible for us to turn back from this nightmare now. We may’ve already embarked on a journey that is one-way in nature, at least for our generation. I pray it’s not too late for our children to see freedom again, and I hope it is not too late for their children. I know that I don’t have all of the answers, but I do believe the current administration certainly has none of the answers.
Freedom, personal responsibility and charity, what do these words mean to us, as individuals? As a people? Have these words been distorted so egregiously, that we’ve forgotten their true meanings altogether? It was, ‘We the people,’ not, ‘We the centrally-planned governance.’ We the people have the freedom to determine our own fate for better or worse.
We have a responsibility to ourselves, our families and our communities, not some bureaucrat ten states away. We have a responsibility to the less fortunate than us. We have a responsibility to support the needs of others through our churches and our civic organizations. I know that when I give a dollar to my church, ninety cents makes it to the cause I chose to support. What government dares boast such efficiency and integrity?
There is a very real possibility that, after this election is over, you won’t get any help from the Federal government, regardless if I’m elected. You have the responsibility of rebuilding your towns and cities. And it starts in your living rooms with your own families. You must elect honest, responsible, local leaders to guide your communities’ rebirth. You must reestablish the rule of law and the sacred rights of property. This election is not for who’ll govern you in the coming months, but for who will lay the foundation for a completely new government that will emerge in the coming years. It will either dictate to you or be dictated by you. You have a choice to make; continue on this reckless course or reign in your government before it consumes you whole.
I leave you all with this scripture from Paul to the Ephesians, ‘Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.’ We’re not guaranteed tomorrow by this passage, but we’re guaranteed a life and legacy that is pleasing to the Lord, our God. Thank you, and Godspeed.”
The crowd erupted with a standing ovation. Their cheers resounded through the café’s speakers as the senator waved and left the stage. The clamoring crowd began to wane until Senator Ames reemerged to the sounds of a classic rock anthem. His encore appearance pressed the people into a fever. The contagion affecting the group began to infect the café’s patrons; they also burst into a raucous display. Coffee mugs clinked in makeshift toasts and forks were thrust high in the air.
After a minute or two of pandemonium, the café began to calm. The mayor arose from a booth that also sat his wife and two children. He raised a hand and addressed the patrons.
“The man can work a crowd, can’t he?”
Applause and cheers erupted again.
“Don’t get me wrong, he is speaking my language, but let’s not get our hopes too high; he’s still just a man. Just like the last one, and the one before him, they all sound good until they get into office. Let us pray that Senator Ames is indeed the man we believe him to be, and we get a final chance to right this ship. But for now, let’s enjoy the company of the finest people the world has to offer, each other.”
Ch apter 10
Clayton
Washington County, Alabama
They had been lying in wait for nearly an hour in Hellcat Bayou. Clayton had passed the time by whispering one-sided conversations to Moses and rubbing his furry head. Eventually, his loyal friend finally retired to the bottom of the boat for a much-needed nap. All alone, he lost himself in his own thoughts.
They might as well have been invisible. Even if it had been the middle of the day, the thick brush would have still concealed them from even the most observant of onlookers. He patiently watched the narrow wooden pier that extended precariously out from the opposite bank. The pier wasn’t much, but it still seemed out of place. They were deep within the river swamp.
Clay reasoned the top of the bank was probably eight feet above the water. A steep slope led from the crest to the pier below. Clayton did not particularly like the high bank. He knew it afforded anyone opposite of him the high ground, and with that, the natural advantage. Of course, if the situation ever did get out of control, he did not plan to stick around. Besides, Clayton never left home without a few tricks of his own.
It was not that he expected any problems, he had known these men most of his life. Times were different now, though. Friendships were expendable if one’s situation became dire enough. Still, he trusted Teddy and the deputy. The arrangement benefited both sides too, so it was in everyone’s best interest to ensure it continued without any complications.
Clayton usually met Teddy Lawson and Deputy Greene once or twice a month. Most of the time, the transactions were completely legitimate. He had taken receipt of everything from mail to medical supplies and transported them across the river. He had even ferried a desperate family to the other side once or twice.
The trips across the river had become very lucrative for Clayton. It was maybe fifteen miles from the pickup to the drop-off point. The same trip by land would span over 70 miles, one way, and go as far north as the crossing in Claiborne. One would have to pass through at least six desperate and struggling towns. Safety would be compromised from the moment one was on the highway. There were innumerable bridges that could be barricaded and choke points that could be leveraged to ambush a traveler. Navigating by water was the only logical option if goods were to be moved from one side to the other.
The rivers and their adjoining sloughs and swamps were mostly void of other vessels, except for the occasional river barge that still shipped heaping loads of coal to the power plants along the river. Canoes and kayaks could be seen checking trot lines or gill nets near civilization, but the high price of fuel restricted the deep reaches to all but a few motorized crafts. Sometimes, he would go weeks without hearing another boat on the water.
This delivery was not quite as legal as most, however. Clay and Moses would be transporting sixty gallons of Washington County’s finest whiskey. Since Deputy Greene was the brother of Sheriff Greene, Clayton reasoned there was not much to fear in getting caught; especially since much of it was made by the sheriff himself.
Besides, Clayton reasoned, how could the same government that destroyed commerce by engaging in such extraordinarily reckless behavior, now enforce laws that had to be broken just so a basic good could be made available? At least that was his stance whenever he had to defend his whiskey runs to Claire. It did not really matter what his stance was though, she won the argument anyway. He just thanked the Lord she still considered him worth all the trouble.
Clay examined his watch. He should have company in just a few more minutes.
He surveyed the opposite shore with his night-vision goggles and took an interest in the nocturnal ritual of a plump raccoon. He watched as she washed an unfortunate crawfish in the muddy water. After she finished, she clinched the mudbug in her jaws and scampered up the steep slope. Clayton noticed several tiny heads peer over the top bank. He smiled as he saw the kits and realized the meal was not for her after all. She repeated the process several times, returning to the bank to retrieve an unlucky minnow, bullfrog or crawfish.
Moses was still nestled in the bottom of the boat on an old blanket and sleeping peacefully. Clayton chuckled under his breath as he watched his partner’s eyes dart rapidly under his eyelids. Occasionally, he would snort or groan to himself. Clay wondered what a Leopard Cur might dream of on such a night. He admired his partner in crime as he slept. Moses was, without a doubt, his best friend.
Moses was large for his breed, weighing nearly 110 pounds. He had marbled, blue eyes and a short, slick coat that would dry in a matter of minutes after a swim. His coat was blue with brown markings, with splashes of black around his eyes. He was descended from the Wright line of curs, an old lineage that traced their roots to Hernando De Soto’s working dogs. Many of the old breeders claimed the dogs had originally descended from red wolves. Regardless of where he came from, Clayton knew Moses was as faithful a friend as could be desired.
Clay began to hear the faint sound of an engine as it rumbled through the deep swamp. He waited anxiously as the sound grew louder. Suddenly, the low rumble stopped. He heard two doors slam shut in unison. Through the thick cover of foliage and Spanish moss, he watched the family of furry bandits slip away into the night. Two figures warily made their way down the steep bank and towards the small pier.
The pier was often inundated by floodwaters and had developed a thin, slimy film of mildew over the years. Clayton knew the
floodwaters had left it even more perilous than normal. He grinned in anticipation as he watched the men.
The rotund man in the lead gingerly plodded out onto one step at a time. Suddenly, his left foot began to slide awkwardly away from him, like a child trying to ice skate. The man thrust his arms out in a vain attempt to balance himself, but it was too late. Clayton could see the panic on the man’s face. Then, his right foot started to move as well. He turned his head back to the direction of the bank, as if by seeing it he might somehow conjure himself back onto safer footing. All at once, both feet swung straight out, then up. The man landed so hard on the pier Clayton was afraid the entire structure would collapse into the water.
The loud crash aroused Moses from his deep slumber. He growled in a low tone in the direction of the ruckus. Clayton clenched his teeth to keep from exploding in laughter as he rubbed the back of Moses’ neck. The two men were now waving their arms at each other and attempting to argue in hushed tones. The second man eased out onto the pier and struggled to lift the other back onto his feet. Once they were both precariously standing again, the portly man retrieved an infrared flashlight from his pocket and flashed it in Clay’s general direction.
Clayton crawled to the front of the boat and twisted the hand throttle of the trolling motor. The boat silently began to push through the thick cover and into the open waters of the slough. As silent as a wraith, he drifted towards them. When he was about thirty feet from the pair, he removed his helmet and lit a kerosene lantern that had been resting on the bow of the boat.
The portly man called out to the boat, “How are you, old friend?”
“Better than you are, Teddy. I doubt you’ll be able to get out of bed for a week.”
Deputy Greene chuckled as Ted Lawson replied, “I had hoped you hadn’t seen that.”
“Moses and I see everything.”
The Western Front - Parts 1-3 (Western Front Series) Page 7