by Joe Nobody
The Alliance’s leader’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as her legs gave way, and she crumpled toward the lot. Only Nick’s cat-like reflexes saved her from another head injury.
Chapter 14
Pete glanced at the pile of newsprint, the stack of papers drawing yet another frown.
By pre-collapse standards, they weren’t much, individually or as a whole. Thin paper, cheap, smearing ink, and a few pages per edition, they were hardly worthy of a birdcage’s gutter.
Yet the councilman, bar owner, and brewer knew they were a sign of progress and recovery. Newspapers were communication and an important part of governmental checks and balances. They represented free speech.
All of that was fine and dandy until the press lost its neutrality. Pete recalled a quote by the famous French General, Napoleon Bonaparte; “Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than a thousand bayonets.”
It wasn’t so much that the reporters had turned hostile, or suddenly developed a dislike for the leadership in Alpha. In reality, they were merely relaying the events of the last few days to their readers.
A series of events that Pete was still having trouble comprehending.
Rumors and the retelling of the attempt on Diana’s life had spread like wildfire all across the Alliance’s territory. Even when stated accurately, the news was worrisome to many. When truthful recounts of the “Incident in Amarillo” were lacking, slight exaggerations and misinformation filled the gaps.
It was only to be expected. People were always hungry for information, inaccurate gossip or not. Many of the embellishments sent waves of outright fear rolling through the population at large. The citizens were a nervous mess. Having survived one apocalypse lessened the average person’s tolerance of instability, the unknown, and rapid change. Optimism was declining at an alarming rate.
When news of that incident was followed by headlines of other town hall meetings gone awry, tremors of unrest began to rattle through the Alliance.
Pete picked up a copy of the Dallas paper, the headline reading, “Property Claims Suspended by Unrest in Plano.” Someone had started firing a weapon while standing in line. A woman and her child were badly hurt by the throng’s stampede to escape the gunfire.
Midland Station’s rag was even more troubling. In large, bold font, the words, “Massive Claim Filed by Lewis Oil – Could Bankrupt the Alliance,” stared back at Pete. The story contained few details but was troubling nonetheless. Someone was making a claim for the local oil refinery and all of the product it had produced since the Alliance had liberated the town. That claim was for trillions of dollars.
Every single one of the small, struggling news outlets contained similar stories. Austin’s town meeting had broken down into a swirling pool of arguments and was quickly shut down by the authorities before another riot took place. San Antonio’s mayor had canceled her presentation after several attendees refused to surrender their firearms at the door. It was a pure, unadulterated, hot mess.
The negative impact of those stories was nothing compared to the near panic that was generated by reports of fighting amongst the leadership in Alpha.
While printed details were sketchy, the quarrel between Bishop and Nick had been publicized as rift based on a difference in politics that had gotten out of control. The article had served little purpose other than to divide readers, some siding with Bishop, others relating with the incumbent’s camp.
Now, this morning’s paper had delivered the worst. Diana had fainted, rekindling conspiracy theories that her injuries were far more serious than originally reported. The Houston Post was calling for the chairperson to step aside, questioning her ability to run the government. The Texarkana Times was calling for Texas to cease its “…failed effort to become an independent nation, and reintegrate with the United States as soon as possible.”
There was more than just the headlines.
Well-worded editorials were carried by many of the fish wrappers, all questioning the Alliance’s government, elected officials, and the direction the fledgling country was taking in general.
The few radio stations in operation were hosting guests that spouted every possible angle of conspiracy imaginable.
Pete had rushed to Alpha upon hearing of Diana’s collapse. Despite being one of the original councilmen and a close friend, Nick had denied all access.
Instead, the head of Alliance security had grilled Pete on his relationship with Bishop and Terri. The questions, really more of an interrogation, had been troubling to say the least.
When Pete had tried to locate his friends and find out what the hell was going on, Bishop and his family were nowhere to be found. Even Sheriff Watt’s lips seemed to be sealed. Not even the old “one cop to another,” posturing had been effective. He could only assume they had retreated to the ranch.
Returning to Meraton, Pete found himself fighting off a growing sense of helplessness. It seemed like everything they’d worked for was crumbling beneath his feet. The council, despite surviving numerous threats in the past, had become dysfunctional. Untrusting. Frightened.
Close friends and trusted allies were now viewed with suspicion. The government’s boldest move yet, the new property law, was causing chaos and unrest throughout the land.
Pete found himself desperately wanting to speak with Terri. He recalled how many times her cool head and perceptive logic had saved the young movement. She always had a unique view, and her creative solutions were one of the reasons they’d made it this far.
Shoving the newspapers aside, Pete rose from his desk determined to find his friends. He knew the location of the ranch. It wasn’t that far. He could drive there in less than an hour.
A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. “Yes?”
The bartender’s head appeared, “Pete, some kid just left a message for you. He said it was urgent.”
“What? That’s odd. Let’s see it.”
Pete was handed a sealed envelope, his first thought being, “What now?”
The handwritten note inside was signed, “Love, Terri.” He began reading it in a rush: As you are no doubt aware, things have gotten a little strange in Alpha. Bishop and I need someplace to hole up, out of sight, but not the ranch. Would you have time to meet us at Betty’s old bed and breakfast with some ideas? We’ll be here the rest of the night.”
Pete set the paper down, mumbling, “Have things degraded so far that Bishop and Terri have to sneak into Meraton and pass secret notes?”
He could remember the day Bishop was given the honorary title of Texas Ranger and the ensuing ceremony. How many times had the couple saved the Alliance and thousands, upon thousands of lives?
Rising from his desk, Pete stepped to the front of the bar and informed the barkeep that he was going out for a bit.
As he drove out of Meraton, he cursed his own paranoia after glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. “I guess it has gone that far.”
The old bed and breakfast hadn’t been occupied since Betty had taken over the Manor. As he pulled in front of the overgrown driveway, Pete thought about the woman he’d one day hoped to marry. Her untimely death during the hurricane in Galveston had been one of the saddest days of his life.
For a moment, he thought he’d messed up and gone to the wrong house. There was no sign of Bishop’s truck or the couple. Pushing down the knee-high weeds as he rolled closer to the porch, Pete saw the Texan standing in the dark, rifle slung across his chest.
Terri and Hunter appeared a moment later, all smiles and hugs. “I’m so glad you came,” she gushed. “It’s difficult to know who is still a friend.”
Meraton’s councilman soon found that Bishop had hidden his pickup in the backyard. The couple had already set up a tent – just in case Pete hadn’t answered the note. Given the gear Bishop was wearing, it seemed as if the Texan was ready for a less than friendly response as well.
After helping the couple load their belongings
into his car, their impromptu host chaperoned them to the back of the Manor. “I keep a suite available for visiting businessmen and other guests. I’ll tell the front desk that you two have just arrived after a long journey and shouldn’t be disturbed.”
“Thanks, Pete,” Bishop replied. “We appreciate your hospitality. We considered hiding out at Betty’s, but there were no supplies there. We should only be in your hair a few days.”
“I owe my life to both of you,” replied the older man. “The entire town probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your heroics. Now, once you’re unpacked and comfortable, I want to know what in the hell is going on in Alpha.”
“You’re not the only one,” Terri replied. “We probably have the same questions as you.”
Two hours later, sitting in an isolated corner of the Manor’s famous gardens, Pete sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “How did this happen? What the hell is Nick thinking?”
“We’re as stumped as you are,” Bishop responded, his voice colored with sadness. “We’re hoping to lay low for a few days and see if things cool down.”
“I was planning to go to Alpha tomorrow. I’ll try to see Diana again,” Pete said. “Maybe she can shed some light and make sense of it all.”
Everyone was tired and decided to call it a night.
As he walked back to the bar, Pete paused and looked back at the Manor. “I wonder where they’ll go if this doesn’t get resolved? I wonder if they’ll take me along?”
The next day was like most at the Manor, relaxing and quiet.
Terri decided to take a chance on being recognized. Wearing her hair in a schoolmarm’s bun and accessorized with oversized, dark sunglasses, she went for a swim with Hunter. Bishop, after numerous “patrols” around the grounds, eventually joined them. His wife thought it was hilarious when he splashed into the pool wearing a disguise that included a frizzy mop head as a wig. Hunter didn’t agree.
Frightened of his father’s creation, the kid wouldn’t go near his dad, eyeing the strange-looking character with suspicion, screaming loudly whenever Bishop tried to approach with extended arms.
Noting that there wasn’t anyone around anyway, the father soon discarded the camouflage so he could play with his son.
By late afternoon, the Texan was restless, pacing around the grounds. By early evening, he had finally settled in one of the hotel’s numerous rocking chairs, working back and forth at a steady pace.
When Hunter went down for a nap, Terri joined him on the porch.
“It’s Chase,” Bishop stated out of the blue. “I’ve finally figured it out. Chase is behind all this.”
“What? How did you come to that conclusion?”
“It all makes sense. He’s had his nose in every single thing that has gone wrong lately. He was in Houston and caused us to get a late start and not go to Amarillo. He was the one accusing Butter of stealing those medical records. I’m telling you, he’s behind all this.”
“Did he cause Nick to verbally attack us?”
“Not directly.”
“Did he incite the riot or shoot Diana?”
“No… not that I know of.”
“I think you’re just jealous. It’s cute and very flattering, but your timing is poor.”
Bishop’s face got red. “I’m getting a little tired of people thinking I’m that shallow and insecure. I especially expected a little better from my wife of all people.”
For a second, Terri thought he was teasing, or exercising that infamous, ill-timed humor. It quickly became clear, however, that her husband was serious. “Oh come on, Bishop,” she pushed back. “You know I was making a joke. You understand the value of laughter when times are stressful.”
“I know you were joking,” he stated in a low monotone. “That’s not what’s pissing me off. It’s the fact that my analysis is dismissed so easily. You’re not the only one who can read people, my dear.”
She didn’t like his tone or statement. “Seriously, Bishop? You want to dissect recent events with an eye toward Chase McQuire? Fine. Let’s roll down that path and see where it leads us.”
“Fine.”
“First of all, he’s not been in the right place at the right time to be involved in half of the incidents. Where would you like to begin?”
Bishop rubbed his chin, almost as if he was regretting the conversation already. “The first fiasco after his arrival was that bullshit up by Fort Davidson… that weird, still-unexplained team that arrived out of nowhere and shot up my men.”
“And Chase was involved in what way?”
“You told him where I was, didn’t you?”
Now it was Terri’s cheeks flushing red. “Yes, I probably mentioned it. It wasn’t a secret or anything. Hell, your guys and you were loading up trucks full of supplies in broad daylight. Remember?”
“So he knew. Maybe he called in some old friends. You said he was in the military, right? Those guys that hit us in that valley were ex-military…. I’m sure of that.”
It all came welling up inside of Terri, an eruption of painful memories and strong sensations. The trip back to Houston, seeing their old home, and Chase’s reappearance in her life. It all combined with Nick and Diana’s strange behavior to make her feel as if her world was collapsing – as if her head was about to explode.
“Bishop! Is there some virus going around that is converting testosterone into stupidity and paranoia? First, it infected Nick, and now you? Do you really think Chase wants in my pants so badly that he would hire a team of professional hitmen to take you out of the picture?”
Bishop stood abruptly, his face cold with anger. “There you go again, and quite frankly, it’s getting a little old. You’re a stunning young lady, but not that hot, sweetheart. Of course, Chase wouldn’t go through all that just for a piece of your ass. It was the new property law that he was trying to sabotage.”
With her lower lip trembling in rage, Terri stood and glared at her husband. “In all our years… with all the threats and tragedy and death we’ve endured, you’ve never spoken to me like that, sweetheart.”
Bishop knew he should apologize, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned his back to her. “I need space,” he informed his shell-shocked wife. “I need some time and open spaces to think. I’m going to go hunting.”
“You’re what? You’re going to leave Hunter and me here by ourselves with the second apocalypse looming on the horizon?”
“You guys are as safe here as anywhere.”
“Maybe I’d feel safer in the new house that Chase is fixing up,” she hissed. “He invited me to come see it. I’m sure it’s a little nicer than the camper.”
“See… see what I mean,” he growled back. “That little lard worm is just trying to drive a wedge between us. I should have gutted that shit shark when I had the chance.”
Terri knew she’d struck a nerve, the veins on the side of Bishop’s neck pulsating, the corded muscles on his arms tight like a guitar string. Deep down inside she knew it was wrong, but her fury eroded all restraint. “I don’t think he’s trying to come between us at all. I think he’s merely trying to open my eyes,” she spouted, instantly regretting the words.
In all their time together, she’d never once thought Bishop would, or could, strike her. Her husband’s reaction, there on the front porch of their favorite place on earth, challenged that belief. His fists balled as his weight shifted forward - a lion preparing to pounce. For the first time in her life, Terri was frightened of the man she’d married.
Fortunately, it passed in a heartbeat, the Texan’s stance returning to a non-threatening keel, almost relaxed. “Suit yourself. I’m going hunting.”
Terri was over the top pissed. “I can’t believe this! Right when we need each other the most, you’re running out on me. What the hell has happened to you, Bishop? Maybe Nick was right. Maybe you have lost your honor.”
“Nothing has happened to me,” he replied coldly. “I just need to go hunting. I’ll be back in a co
uple of days.”
Without another word, Bishop went inside their room and gathered his equipment. He emerged a few minutes later after giving his sleeping son a soft kiss and whispering, “I love you.”
Terri stood speechless by the door, arms crossed and mind burning from their fight. Bishop paused in front of her, bending to deliver a forehead peck. She moved away, purposely avoiding the kiss.
Sighing, he walked out into the Texas night without another word.
Terri held it until she was sure he was too far away to hear and then began to sob. “Oh, God. What is happening to us?”
Bishop drove out of Meraton, a hunting trip to the mountains the last thing on his mind.
He hated deceiving Terri and would no doubt pay a price for that later. In his mind, however, he was completely justified. After all, she wouldn’t even consider that her former lover was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
What he needed now was proof. Unquestionable, clear as day evidence.
He continued driving west toward Fort Bliss, his mind digesting the facts as fast as the truck was eating up the miles.
Twenty minutes outside the Alliance’s largest military installation, he pulled to the side of the road and began to formalize his plan. It was all so risky, an all or nothing gamble, but he had to do it.
He’d snuck in and out of Bliss before, delivering a message to the visiting president, and then having to escape with the chief executive after an attempt on his life by the Independents. He knew the layout well.
Checking his watch, he knew there were only four hours until dawn. He needed the night to accomplish his mission. That’s when the base’s personnel would be the least active.
He thought about driving to the neighborhood he’d once used as a springboard to penetrate the base’s perimeter. He could leave the truck and go in on foot. It was a 10-mile hump from there to the building that housed the base's primary communications center. If he hustled and traveled light, he might just make it in and out.