by Reed Hill
“Georgia, sarge, Mossy Point to be exact.”
Yep, those MREs probably better than what he grew up eating. Mathews allowed himself a small grin from the corner of his mouth. It was a good thing they decided to send most of the men to the park, because there were only about fifteen seats in the whole dining area of the place. A couple of sketchy looking Chicanos sat in the back booth by the kitchen, wearing their sunglasses and looking down. He had seen plenty of gang bangers in and around El Paso, but these guys were a rougher cut than those guys had been.
The pimply-faced boy in the paper hat stood by the cash register, “Hi, welcome to Chickie Dickie’s, how can I help you?”
Taking off his short-billed camo hat and tucking it in his belt, Mathews looked over the menu, and smiled at the four options listed in red plastic letters set in the grungy, yellowing board:
Two-piece $3.99
Three-piece $4.99
Five-piece $5.99
Family $9.99
“How much do you get with a family size?” Mathews looked at the young cashier, and glanced around when he caught the faint odor of urine hiding underneath the strong, oily scent of fryers. He saw a young white lady with frazzled hair sitting in one of the front two booths, slouching low and huddling her two young boys close to her. The older was about five or six years old, Mathews thought. The younger one was no older than three and he sniffed loudly, red-eyed and shaking. Tears could be seen in the eyes of the woman, whose mascara was running, and the younger boy appeared to have a wet crotch and sitting in a small pool of something wet. The lady looked at Mathews with large eyes, and he caught the scent of urine once more from their direction.
“This flyer lists everything you get with the Family meal,” the cashier slid a small sheet of printed paper toward Sergeant Mathews, and his hand was visibly shaking as the kid pointed to the paper. “Check out the specials. You get an extra side today with any family order. You should really check out the specials.”
Mathews let his eyes fall to the red-on-yellow printed flyer. Scribbled in black ink at the bottom of the paper were the words: ‘help me.’ The kid looked at him with pleading eyes, holding up his order pad and tapping the side of it with a black ball point pen.
“I hear you kid,” Mathews looked around and saw a glimpse of movement from the fryer area which was almost completely obscured by the service areas where the clerks loaded food and drinks. “I think I’m going to need five family-sized meals and twenty jumbo drinks.” As the clerk scratched out the order on the small pad, he heard a pan fall with a metallic clank to the tile floor, and something muttered in the back.
At the sound of the pan, the woman stifled a scream and her young son started crying in earnest. The cashier pivoted his head slightly to the back while keeping his eyes on Mathews, “We’re going to need five Family specials, to go. Is everything all right back there”
There were faint whispers before a reply came back, “Yeah. That’s a lot. It’s going to take a little while.”
“It’s fine,” Mathews looked to the back and saw the distinct outlines of three people behind the soda dispensers, warming trays and French fry bins. “We can wait.” He spotted movement in the back once again, and unbuckled the strap on his leg holster, which held own his 9mm Beretta 92, as he pivoted away from the two thugs seated at the back and casually leaned on the counter nodding subtly to the woman.
Mathews noticed that Williams and Gaines had both seen that something wasn’t right and both stood back by the door, covering him, with their hands at their sides. All they had were their sidearms. He saw one of the ruffians in the back booth shift his weight, and the one with his back to them peered over his shoulder. Mathews spied a small tattoo of a teardrop at the corner of his eye, just below the curve of his wraparound black glasses. These guys were definitely not your average barrio bangers.
Another clank from the pans brought a hushed yet discernible reprimand, and that’s when door with a porthole window to the kitchen area swung open wildly and two thugs emerged. One had an older, pudgy Hispanic man in a headlock with a semiautomatic pistol pointed at his head. “No move!” he moved forward slowly from the door and his buddy was behind him in the doorway. “You no move!”
Mathews knew he had to do something when he saw the two seated thugs start to stand up. He spied a pistol tucked in the belt in the small of his back of the ese facing opposite him and the thug’s hand was reaching for it. The hooligan facing him went for the pistol he had in the front of his belt as the pair coming from the kitchen stepped toward Mathews and shouted something in Spanish.
“Everybody just calm down,” Mathews raised his hands and backed up toward the glass doors. He knew he needed to get these guys out of the restaurant and away from the woman and her kids. “Let’s go out of here and talk about this.” He motioned behind his back for Williams and Gaines to go out, and the side-stepped to the door. Gaines pushed it open with his foot and backed into the doorway.
“Stop!” the thug waved at them with his pistol and returned it to the old cook’s head. “You come here.”
Mathews continued to back toward the door. Gaines was outside with his hands high in the air, and Williams was backing out.
“Just be calm.” Mathews raised his hands a bit higher off his belt and out from his body. “Let’s go outside and talk.” He felt the breeze push against his back as Williams backed out of the door with his arms in the air, joining Gaines, who was now stepping back into the grass.
Mathews took a quick step backwards into the doorway when he saw the two thugs from the back coming at him, pistols drawn. As he pushed the door open with his heel, a belt of bright sunshine painted the criminals in front of him, and Williams and Gaines moved further back from the door out on the patchy, browned lawn. From the shadows of their raised hands he could tell they also were moving around quite a bit. They were trying to signal the boys across the street.
Suddenly, he heard a crack of a gunshot from within the store and the pane of glass left of the door shattered, sending glass falling in shards and pieces to the concrete. Mathews stood still where he was, one foot in the grass and one foot on the concrete walkway by the door. The glare from the door and the remaining glass on the right side of the restaurant obscured his view, so he edged his way down in the grass more at angle, trying to decrease the glare.
The thug with the hostage emerged and pushed the cook out the door, where he fell to his hands and knees on the concrete. The leader stood and the steel chains on his black leather jacket glinted in the sunlight as the other three followed him out the door and fanned out, training their gun sights on the three soldiers. “You give me your guns, or I kill him.” He pointed the muzzle of the black pistol at the head of the cook, who raised skinned, bloody palms in the air as he knelt. The leader took a step forward to the cook and raised the gun with a tightening grip.
Mathews heard the whizzing of a round and its impact as the leader was knocked to the ground, twisting around from a shot to the upper torso. Two more rounds struck his cronies almost within a heartbeat. One man’s head bobbled like a toy from the force of the round which hit him in the temple while the other slumped to the ground screaming as a bullet tore through his mid-section, clipping his spinal column.
The third thug got off a shot as Mathews drew and fired a twice from the hip with his Beretta from his hip, and Gaines and Williams turned on the ruffian and fired also. Mathews’ shots hit him in the gut, and he staggered backwards, firing another shot harmlessly into the grass in front of him. Mathews felt a piece of dirt hit him in the face as the hiss of another round came flying in and destroyed the thug’s upper chest. The Mexican stood teetering awkwardly on wobbly legs for a moment as crimson pumped from his torso and spilled onto his dirty jeans, staining his yellow t-shirt red. He tried to say something but only gurgling could be heard as he fell face first to the grass.
Mathews wheeled to look across the street and saw four of his men from the makeshift squad
lift their rifles above their heads, whooping and hollering. Mathews raised a fist to them, when he heard an engine fire up from the back of the parking lot. The music man in the truck! He ran to the corner of the building and spied the truck as it jumped the curb at the back of the parking lot and took off down the alley.
As the crew came running across the street, Mathews spun back to Gaines and Williams. “See to the lady and her kids!” He took a couple of steps toward the truck as it sped away and raised his gun sights on the bouncing rear window, trying to fix his aim on the dwindling target. He lowered his weapon and re-holstered it. More bad things than good could happen from that kind of a shot.
When came back to the eatery, Williams and Gaines were comforting the lady and her children, and the cook just sat on the concrete on his knees muttering, “Dios mio, dios mio.” As the rest of the squad came rushing across the lawn, Mathews entered the store, looking around, “Hey kid, it’s safe. You can come out now.”
He heard a muffled “okay,” from behind the counter and the kid slowly rose, walked out and sat down in one of the booths. Mathews turned and came back out of the restaurant, meeting the squad with some firm but subdued handshakes, as they stood by the bodies of the criminals. Mathews clapped his guys on their shoulder as they paced a few feet away, “That was some damn fine shooting – you saved our bacon.”
“Yeah, there wasn’t much you could do with hostages in a confined area,” Corporal Andreson replied softly, turning away from the nearby cook. “Damn good job, getting them outside without getting your ass shot up.”
Mathews allowed himself a small grin, “Just wanted to get the pieces of shit away from the lady and her kids. And then the asshole comes out with the cook under his arm.”
“Well, we had your back, sar’nt.”
“I knew you would.” Mathews smiled as Williams and Gaines helped escort the lady to her car while blocking the view of the carnage on the lawn as best they could. The boys were crying and she pulled them close. “We better call the local LEOs here and file a report for them.”
A young specialist pulled out his wireless, “I’m on it, sar’nt.”
It was a damn grisly sight. The cook sat on the concrete and when he tried to get up he just fell back down on his butt, looking very pale. Mathews noticed Williams limping as he came over, leaving Gaines talking with the lady at her minivan. He had blood trickling down his left leg as he shuffled over to Mathews and put his hand on the sergeant’s shoulder.
“Son of a bitch clipped me.” Williams poked around a bit at the bloody spot. “I’ll be fine – feels like it grazed the thigh a bit.”
“You’re gonna need a new set of ACU trousers there Williams,” quipped one of the soldiers.
“Look who’s talking,” Williams shot back. “You looked scared shitless back there.”
That was no lie. Things must be getting pretty bad if the eses were poking around this far out from El Paso and Del Rio. Mathews rubbed the back of his neck and gave the signal for the guys to gather up. While they moved toward him, he heard a distant siren as well as the crying of the boys and caught a whiff of the salty odor of battle in the warm breeze. This crew had to have been scouts for a larger unit, and that was very bad news, if true.
He shuddered at the thought of Marta being out for lunch somewhere in Eagle Pass and having to deal with a scene like that. He recalled the time they had gone across the border for the day to Monterrey and stopped for lunch. While they ate, the tension had grown until they felt they had to leave. He really hoped she was somewhere safe, not dealing with crap like this.
The distant sound of the siren brought him back to the gruesome scene. “Listen up guys,” Mathews snapped his fingers in the air. “Local PD should be here in a minute – let’s work to get the statements done as quickly as we can. We need to rendezvous with the 2nd Texas Guard up in San Angelo, like ASAP. It’s getting out of hand, even out here in the sticks.”
As the crew began to disperse and wait for the police to arrive, Gaines turned to Williams, “I guess this means we ain’t getting chicken for lunch.”
Williams just glared at the Georgia boy before punching him hard on the shoulder. “Don’t be a dipshit, Gaines.”
*****
Downtown – U.S. District Court
Austin, Texas –July 5th, 2017 – 2:20 pm
The old clerk brought the courtroom to attention once more, and Judge Hutchins made the slow walk up to the platform from the door to his chambers. Callie’s mind was racing. Based on how things went in chambers, she actually felt pretty good about their chances. She tried to read the judge’s face for any clues as he banged his gavel, brought the court to order and sat down, but she couldn’t discern anything from his wrinkly stone-like face. He settled himself and sat upright in the tall leather chair, looking at Baracho and then at Meacham and Callie.
“We sit at crossroads in this case, ladies and gentlemen. Plaintiff’s counsel would have me agree that it is permissible for a state in our hallowed Union to divide itself and yet remain in the greater body. We know from Article Four of the constitution that the Framers did contemplate this idea and, as such, wrote under what circumstances that could occur. The Plaintiff presents the court with just such a situation when it raises the 1845 U.S.-Texas annexation agreement as a lawfully prepared and executed legislation invoking the provisions thereof. That the agreement exists and is not somehow invalid or unenforceable is not in dispute.
“Defense counsel would have me ignore this agreement, treating it as if it did not exist, arguing that I should instead preserve the current state of the Union as it is in the name of perpetuity and unity. In order to do so, I would invalidate an agreement lawfully produced and jointly created by both the U.S. Congress and the Texas legislature and signed by a U.S. President. Turning a blind eye to such a lofty construction would be legally unjust and morally wrong. If the U.S. Government never intended the people of Texas to exercise the provisions of the agreement, then it’s the U.S. Government that has acted in bad faith and has committed acts which could be considered traitorous, betraying against another sovereign. We’re left to ponder whether Texas would have ever agreed to join a Union under such conditions, were it to have known that the U.S. Government would never allow the provisions with the people of Texas to which it agreed to be executed.
“Furthermore, such actions would force me to invalidate what are clearly lawful elections. Now, based on the memorandum that has been executed under official seal and read into the record here, I find that Texas has executed the provisions of the contract and created new states per stipulations of the 1845 agreement. The elections have been certified as legal and there has been no argument made before me that they were unjust, or misrepresent the people of Texas in some substantive way. In fact, the main problem I see here, which is the basis of Plaintiff’s motion, is that the legal entity that filed this complaint no longer has an existing border with Mexico, so I have no choice but to vacate the hearing of this case in whole and in part, until such time as an appropriate legal entity can be identified.”
The slow building of whispers and chatter that had built up as the Judge spoke, forcing him to stop and bang his gavel furiously.
“Order, I’ll have order here.” He sat up and glowered at the media and citizens who were talking feverishly, some of them even getting to their feet. The throng calmed down under his forceful gaze, and he punctuated the quiet with an additional slam of his gavel. “Now, I strongly suggest that you, Mr. Meacham, get your administrative house in order, and that the appropriate parties re-file the complaint.
“As such, at this time, I have no choice other than to dismiss the complaint, as the legal status of the people you purport to represent in this case cannot be seen to have a relevant interest in border protection or reinforcement. This case is dismissed.”
With the declaration made, the court rose as the judge teetered down from the platform and walked to the door, retreating into his chambers. Mea
cham and Callie just stood nonplussed, unsure of what had just happened. Callie felt faint. As she tasted bitterness in her mouth, she quickly sat down, grabbing at the pitcher of water and pouring a glass for herself. The gallery exploded with questions, protest, cheers. It was chaos, and a number of flashes from photographers went off as Meacham himself fell into his chair. Callie brushed sweat off her brow and took a long drink of water. Case dismissed. We won.
*****
Three Eagles Ranch
Outside of Hunt, Texas - July 5th, 2017 – 2:45 p.m.
Jeff Doyle looked over the dining room where he had setup of the laptop at the head of the table along with the files they had with them. The cord for a landline they found from one of the bedrooms ran along the floor from the kitchen cumbersomely, but the table sat eight or probably ten people comfortably on sturdy old mission-style furniture. Chief of Staff Lopez would probably complain, but it would have to do. Doyle felt like the Governor could function well here. He wasn’t as uptight about some things as Lopez was, as odd as that seemed. Doyle walked toward the hearth room where the Governor and Lopez sat chatting with Brodie and his wife. Doyle unobtrusively joined the conversation, sitting down quietly in a carved wooden chair with a colorful mestizo-print seat cushion.
“We certainly do appreciate your hospitality, Mrs. Brodie.” the Governor took an obligatory sip of the ice tea at a side table. “There is no question, these are terrible times for all of us.”
“It’s truly an honor, sir. I saw your press coordinator on television commenting how you needed to go to a secure location. I still can’t believe that place is here.” Sara Brodie gazed at Governor Chase and re-crossed her legs, fixing the cuff of her jeans over her red and black boots. “We’re always willing to do what we can. Folks need to pull together in tough times.”