by Ryan King
Almost over, he told himself again.
The room became suddenly silent, and Nathan looked up to see the election commissioner approaching him with a piece of paper. Nathan took it and stared at it for a long time. He then folded up the note and began writing on another piece of paper. When he was done, he folded it, placed it into an envelope, which he sealed, and then wrote a name on the outside. Nathan stood and walked towards the door.
“Who won?” someone on the council yelled after him.
Nathan ignored them and strode purposefully up the long concrete ramps and hallways out into the open air. There he found Joshua leaning against a car he had requisitioned just for this purpose. His son was smoking a pipe while reading a paperback book.
“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.
Joshua shrugged. “I don’t know, just something I picked up along the way.”
Nathan felt like he should say something else, as if maybe this was an open window to reconnect with his son. An opportunity he shouldn’t let pass, yet he couldn’t think of anything to say.
Instead, he held out the sealed envelope to Joshua who took it, read the front, and nodded. Joshua tossed the paperback book into the passenger seat of the muscle car and got inside, cranking the engine with a throaty roar.
Joshua put on sunglasses, grinned at Nathan, and gave him a peace sign. He then stomped on the gas and flew out of the facility parking lot on squealing burning tires.
Nathan stood there and listened to the sound of the engine fading away in the distance.
*******
Ernest Givens wanted a drink. He wanted one so badly that he could close his eyes and actually taste the vodka or rye or even the borderline poisonous rotgut they made in homemade stills now. He didn’t have the shakes or the sweats like before when his body actually needed alcohol, but his mind craved the release. The stress and uncertainty would fade with just a little drink.
He shook his head and was thankful he had gotten rid of all his booze a long time ago, otherwise he wasn’t sure he could resist the temptation. He looked at his watch and saw that the polls had been closed for hours. Of course his watch could be off. No one really knew for sure what the correct time was anymore.
Ernest walked outside and stood on his porch. An old lady who sat on her own porch across the street gave him a thumbs up. “You win yet?” she called out.
“Don’t know,” he yelled back.
“Well, you better,” she said. “I had to walk all the way down to the high school to vote, and these bones don’t move the way they used to.”
“Thank you, Missus Tucker.”
“You can thank me by getting the electricity back on.”
Ernest cringed inwardly. People still thought the dam was something that could be fixed. Damn the war with Huntsville. Even after all of that, and everything they had lost, the JP had just walked away with nothing. He was sure Nathan Taylor would claim they had eliminated a dire threat in Vincent Lacert, but men like Nathan would always be seeing dire threats in order to justify their actions. There were always going to be dire threats.
With Reggie’s death, Ernest had had plenty of time to reassess the former president, and his overall verdict of the man had changed. Reggie Phillips had been in a host of difficult situations and done his best. Given everything that had gone on, he hadn’t done too bad by them, Ernest admitted. His one major failing was in trusting Nathan Taylor and allowing that man to get whatever he wanted.
Everything bad that had happened over the last two years could be laid at the feet of that one man. Nathan probably meant well in his own mind, but he was so sure of himself that he couldn’t be bothered to consult others. This was exactly what several of the county executives and mayors had told him when they came to talk to him after realizing he might actually win. They said they wanted to make sure he knew they were willing to work with him. Unlike Nathan Taylor, who was impossible to even reason with.
There was a loud rumble in the distance, and Ernest thought his ears were playing tricks on him. He had owned an old Camaro when he was a teenager and the sound the engine made was distinctive. As it drew closer, he knew he was right. Someone was actually driving a car. Not only that, but a gas guzzler at a time when gasoline and everything else was rationed.
A black Camaro in desperate need of a wash and wax job pulled up in front of his house. A young man with a scarred head and arms leaned out of the driver’s window to look at him.
Joshua Taylor, Ernest thought. I should have known only Nathan Taylor wouldn’t hesitate to waste resources for whatever he thought best.
“You’re Ernest Givens, right?” the man asked.
Ernest nodded, and Joshua turned off the car. He got out and pulled on a cap, careful to cover up the pale puckered skin where hair would never grow again. Walking towards Ernest, he stuck out his hand. Surprised, Ernest took it.
“We met once,” Joshua said. “Not too long ago, but it seems like a lifetime.”
“Up north,” Ernest said. “You and your father had just crossed over the Ohio River.”
“And you had just brought all those people from Paducah safely home. I don’t think people are ever going to forget about that.”
“Thanks,” said Ernest, uncertain what to say.
“Oh,” Joshua said as if remembering why he was there and pulled an envelope from his back pocket. He handed it to Ernest. “Nice to see you again,” he said while turning back to the car.
He held the envelope in his hand. “What’s this?”
“A note from my father. Congratulations, by the way.” Joshua got back into the car, put on his sunglasses, and with a roar pulled off down the street.
Ernest stared after him and then slowly opened the letter.
President Elect Ernest Givens,
Let me be the first to congratulate you on your victory. I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling your inauguration for one week from today at the Jackson Purchase Committee Building at the old USECO plant in Paducah. This has been where the last two elected JP Presidents have been inaugurated, but if you wish to change the date or venue, that can easily be arranged.
Until that time, I will continue to execute the authority given to me by the late President Phillips. I remain at your disposal if you wish to meet to discuss any matters in regards to the Jackson Purchase. Following your inauguration, I plan to resign immediately as the JP Chief of Defense, and will retire from any sort of public life or service. I can recommend General Luke Carter as a more than able replacement, but the decision is, of course, ultimately yours.
I wish you the very best in the days ahead and pray our fledgling nation can begin the process of healing with the war to the south ended. I feel we need a fresh start. Like most, I am daunted by the challenge of doing so without the many benefits of the Kentucky Dam, but I am confident in us as a people to survive and prosper.
Sincerely,
General Nathan Taylor
Ernest read the note again and then gazed off into the distance. The enormity of the challenges that lay ahead began to descend upon him. Nathan Taylor had made a catastrophe of things, and now he was going to step aside. It would be up to Ernest to muddle through the quagmire he had created.
He was right about one thing. They did need a fresh start.
Ernest crumbled the note in his fist.
Chapter 16 – Branded
It’s almost over, Nathan thought again and remembered all the times before change-of-command ceremonies. It had been with regret that he had given over the mantle of command to another, but it had also been with relief as the weight of responsibility slid to another.
He had intentionally kept the inauguration crowd small. Ernest Givens hadn’t given him an invite list, which had made it easy. Large crowds came to see this historic event, but Nathan had the police keep them back on the roped-off parking lot where they could see and hear the speeches, but were not too close.
Even so there had already been trouble. The Eli
ns and the Cambry’s, two large McCraken County clans, had already nearly started a riot when a simmering and long-standing family feud between them burst into open fighting. One man was stabbed, but the police were able to separate them before firearms were involved. Both groups had been sent away, and now the crowd was at least peaceful, although a thin sheen of electric-like tension seemed to hang over them. It felt as if a spark could pop off at any moment igniting their discontent and frustration.
He noticed that the mayors and county executives hovered around Ernest like he was some sort of royalty. They were obviously courting his favor and several of them looked over at Nathan with knowing, vindictive smiles.
Pouring vitriol into their ears about me, he thought. Let them. Soon it will be over and all of this will be someone else’s problem.
There was a policeman at Nathan’s elbow, and he was pulled out of his thoughts. “Sir, the Creek delegation is here.”
Nathan nodded and began moving in that direction. He had invited officials from neighboring states to see this event, including the Pennyrile Communities, former West Tennessee Republic representatives, and even Huntsville to much consternation. Most had not wanted the Creek Nation there, but Nathan had insisted.
At the parking lot, he saw a group of what looked to be thirty mounted warriors gathering in a nearby field where a small stream flowed. They were dismounting and bringing water to their horses with small buckets. The crowd parted on its own for these warriors, and the Creek Chief Billy Fox, accompanied by Susan Rivera, Jasper Timmons, Mindy—the one they called Little Lion—and two large Creek braves, came forward. All were dressed simply for traveling and were unarmed, Nathan noted thankfully.
Nathan walked to them and greeted Billy. “What? No headdress?”
“I didn’t want to scare anyone,” he responded with a smile. “It was kind of you to invite us.”
“Nonsense. The Creek have proven a valuable ally to the JP.”
“And vice versa,” answered Billy. “We have already started claiming and taxing land to our south. We appreciate the JP staying neutral and ignoring Huntsville pleas for assistance. Many of the Huntsville leaders have since come around to recognize the benefit of falling under the Creek Nation.”
Nathan looked around. “Maybe it would be best if you didn’t mention that at the moment. That was under Reggie’s administration. It’s not common knowledge and might be unpopular.”
Billy’s face clouded with concern. “The JP isn’t thinking of backing out on its agreement, is it? That would be most unwise of you.”
“No,” answered Nathan. “The agreement still stands and it was official. Just let the new president get his footing. He’ll have a lot to deal with.”
Billy nodded, and Nathan shook Susan and Jasper’s hand. “Good of you to come.”
“We are honored by the invitation,” answered Susan and looked back at the large gathering of horses and warriors. “The Creek have brought gifts for the new president as a sign of our respect and friendship. Will there be an opportunity to present these?”
“There will be an official celebration dinner later here,” Nathan said. “It will be a much smaller affair. That is when I would recommend presenting them.”
“Will you be there?” Susan asked.
Nathan shook his head. “My official duties end at the conclusion of this ceremony.”
She looked at him with something like sadness and finally nodded and turned to Mindy. “Then I think we should present you with your gift now.”
The little girl walked forward, pulling a looped leather bag from around her shoulder. Reaching inside, she pulled out a long thin shape wrapped in a strip of deerskin. Nathan took it with both hands reverently and began to unwrap it. Beneath the folds was long smooth wood and bone beautifully carved with animal shapes.
“It is the peace pipe we smoked last spring,” Billy explained. “The one that cemented the alliance between our people’s. It still carries the last tobacco Chicoca ever smoked.”
“Thank you,” said Nathan. It seemed only days ago that he had smoked the pipe with the Creek.
“Be sure and keep it safe on your journey,” Mindy said brightly.
“Journey?” Nathan asked.
The girl looked at him with exasperation. “The long trip your getting ready to go on. Make sure you keep it safe. The pipe was Chicoca’s.”
Nathan started to ask what she meant but was interrupted by the master-of-ceremonies at the front podium microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the ceremony will begin in approximately five minutes. Please make your way to your seats.”
“Electricity,” Billy said with a smile at the microphone and speakers.
Pointing down into the bunker complex, Nathan said simply, “Generators.”
Billy nodded in understanding.
Nathan grabbed the arm of a staffer walking nearby. “Cindy, can you please show the Creek delegation to their seats? They’re up at the front.” She smiled and led the delegation to seats near the front of the stage.
As they moved away, Nathan scanned the crowds and remembered his last inauguration here. It had been when Reggie had been beaten by Paul Thompson and was giving his farewell speech. Those had been eloquent words. Thoughts that Nathan might express himself. Ideas that surely still held true if only Reggie were around to deliver them. Nathan quietly made his way to his seat and sat erect and still as the ceremony started.
He knew it would be a boring affair, but hopefully short, and he had planned it that way. James Harping, the county executive from Ballard County, and the elder statesman, had been given the honor of the introductory speech. As the event began, Nathan tuned the man out as he droned on and on about Ernest’s great deeds and praise for Reggie, a man Harping said would likely join that long list of JP martyrs that future generations would venerate.
Assuming there are future generations, Nathan thought.
He was startled out of his thoughts by everyone rising. Ernest Givens stood and walked forward where he laid his hand upon a large Bible and recited the oath of office led by Doctor Valerie Cutchfield, the Murray State University President. When it was over, everyone applauded and sat again.
Harping spoke briefly again before Ernest Givens took the stage to stand in front of the podium. He pulled out a thin sheaf of papers and began to read in a droning manner. For all his many qualities, and Nathan was sure there were several, he was not a good speaker. At least not in this instance. Nathan noticed that Ernest Givens looked tense, uncomfortable, and even slightly pale.
Soon, it was over, and the new JP president stepped down to polite applause.
They then all stood for the playing of the National Anthem and saluted the U.S. flag that flew about the facility in front of them. They all remained standing as the official party on the stage departed to their rear into the USECO bunker complex.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes today’s inauguration,” the master-of-ceremonies said. “Thank you all for coming today.”
Nathan sat down heavily in his chair and let out a huge breath. It was over. There was no duty, no calling or responsibility. No one had a hold over him any longer except his family. He was finally free.
A shadow fell over Nathan, and he looked up to find a state trooper standing there. “Sir, President Givens wishes to see you in his office.”
Reggie’s office, Nathan thought. “Now?”
“Yes,” the man said and held out an arm towards the bunker.
Nathan stood heavily and began to walk. The trooper fell in after him. “I know the way. You don’t have to show me.”
“I’m supposed to escort you,” the man replied expressionlessly.
Why now? Nathan wondered, warning bells beginning to go off in his head.
He strode down the familiar concrete halls lit by dim lights, making his way towards the office that Reggie had never liked. As a matter of fact, he had never liked the USECO facility at all, preferring to conduct business when he could at the
Graves County courthouse near his home. Nathan walked in the door and saw Ernest sitting behind Reggie’s desk with Leslie Mitchell and the new vice president, Brad Williams, standing behind him. Both were fighting hard to keep smirks off their faces.
“Congratulations, Mister President,” said Nathan. “It is an honor for you to call for me so early in your administration.”
“Thank you,” answered Ernest woodenly. “I thought it best to get this business over as soon as possible.”
“If I might ask, what business?”
“You are hereby relieved of your duties, effective immediately.”
“Sir, you already have my letter of resignation. I’ve taken the liberty of preparing General Carter to assume those duties until you either confirm him or select another.”
“Luke Carter has been relieved of his duties as well,” said Mitchell.
Nathan nodded slowly. “I see. Who will be the Chief of Defense?”
“Leslie Mitchell here will assume those duties,” Ernest answered.
Biting his tongue, Nathan nodded his head once. “I understand. Will that be all, sir?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Ernest said, staring pointedly at Nathan’s hand. “You know that sentence was never commuted. President Paul Thompson signed it himself.”
Nathan looked down at the EX brand on his hand and felt a ball of lead in the pit of his stomach. “That was when our president was under the control of Ethan Schweitzer. You can’t uphold those decisions.”
“Probably not,” said Ernest, “but it does save us a great deal of paperwork and trouble. It also means we don’t have to brand you. It’s already been done.”
Nathan stared at the man for several seconds and was conscious of the large state trooper behind him. “Are you saying…I’m to be exiled?”
“Yes,” answered Mitchell. “You’re to be out of the JP by sunset three days from now on pain of execution if you are not. You’ll go west and never return.”