Divided We Fall

by Trent Reedy

  “Today the president contacted me and repeated his demands. I repeated my refusal, and I will say this to the president and to the nation. Any attempt by the federal government to kidnap me or any other elected Idaho official or to detain any innocent soldier of the Idaho National Guard is illegal and will not be tolerated. At this time, I, Governor James Montaine, do hereby invoke Article Fourteen, Section Six of the Constitution of the state of Idaho, which reads, ‘No armed police force, or detective agency, or armed body of men, shall ever be brought into this state for the suppression of domestic violence, except upon the application of the legislature, or the executive, when the legislature can not be convened.’

  “That means I will not allow any further armed federal incursions into Idaho with the exception of normal flight operations at Mountain Home Air Force Base southeast of Boise. No armed active duty military personnel from Mountain Home will be allowed to leave the base unless he or she is an off-base resident of Idaho. Any other armed federal agents in the state have twenty-four hours to surrender their weapons or leave.

  “I hope that this confrontation is resolved quickly, but make no mistake. We will not be governed by unconstitutional laws, and the soldiers involved in the shootings in Boise will not, under any circumstances, be prosecuted for their actions in stopping the Boise riot. I’m Governor James Montaine, and I stand by my soldiers.”

  He motioned to the crowd. “Any questions?” He pointed at someone quickly. “Yeah?”

  A blond woman stood up. “Governor, how will you enforce this decree of yours?”

  “First of all,” said Montaine, “this isn’t my decree, okay? This isn’t something I just made up. Article Fourteen, Section Six has been a part of Idaho’s constitution since it was first ratified. We have not had a need to enforce this clause until now. Secondly, this will be enforced by any means necessary. Right now, I am working with Idaho law enforcement and the Idaho National Guard to deploy checkpoints at all entries to the state. Idaho airspace is being monitored and will be patrolled by our own air assets. I urge the president and the federal government to take us seriously and respect the law.”

  Another reporter flagged his attention. “Governor Montaine, how do you answer critics who would say that by voting for nullification of the ID card law, Idaho is, in effect, seceding from the Union? And aren’t your actions today, coupled with the establishment of these checkpoints, a clear sign that Idaho is a rebel state?”

  Montaine pounded his fist on the podium. “That is absolutely untrue! I have been in close counsel with the leadership of the Idaho legislature, and they assure me that both the Idaho house and senate stand with me in opposition to the new federal ID card law. The law is unconstitutional. The Idaho state legislature and I don’t care if the nine people on the US Supreme Court uphold the law or not. It is time we moved past the idea that only the federal government gets to decide whether or not its own actions are constitutional. We ourselves have read the Constitution and studied the issue, and we will not have the federal ID cards in Idaho.” He held up one finger. “And that is only one law. That’s it. One. We’re still obeying constitutional federal laws. We’re still paying federal taxes. Right now, over a thousand Idaho Army National Guardsmen are serving in Iran, fighting to protect America from the threat of an Iranian nuclear weapon. I myself proudly served in the United States Army years ago in Iraq. The people of Idaho are 100 percent American, and in no way does the refusal to implement this one unconstitutional ID card law, or my refusal to allow the federal government to arrest my innocent soldiers, equal the state of Idaho withdrawing from the Union.”

  Some of the officers in the room with me cheered. Sergeant Meyers clapped. On the screen, more people called out questions, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I popped in my earbuds, put a country music station on my comm, and waited until the helicopter finally came to take us home.

  * * *

  It was after two in the afternoon when I pulled up to the shop in the Beast. I sat for a couple minutes in the still quiet after I shut off its rumbling engine. At last, I climbed down out of the truck, hobbling a little bit from the bruises the Pirates had stamped on me last night and the stiffness from that uncomfortable flight.

  “Look who finally shows up. You want to explain where you been?” Schmidty walked out through the bay door to join me in the gravel parking lot.

  I knew something like this was coming. “Sorry,” I said. “I, um … My alarm, I set it wrong and —”

  He blew smoke in my face. “Cut the bullshit. I called your house already. Your mom said you left bright and early this morning. She started to panic a little, wondering why you weren’t here, so I had to tell her some story about how you’d been here, but then went to pick up some parts, and I was wondering if you’d stopped at home.” He spit into the gravel. “I don’t like lying for you, so maybe you could stop lying to me.”

  “I …” What could I tell him that he’d possibly believe? Even if I told the truth, he might not buy it. “I had to go to the armory.”

  “This ain’t your drill weekend.” Schmidty frowned as he drew on his cigarette. “This have something to do with that mess down in Boise?”

  “It was …” I was scrambling to think of a story, but I could never explain why I’d been gone all morning. I looked down and kicked a rock across the lot. Schmidty’s wife had ditched him years ago, and from what I could tell, his life was a lonely stretch of cigarettes and cheap beer. I could probably tell him the truth. He’d keep it safe just because, in general, he hated talking to people. I looked up at him and held out my hand. “Give me a cigarette. There’s something I got to tell you.”

  I told him the whole long stupid story, coughing a little as I tried to smoke. While I described the Battle of Boise, I kept waiting for him to start cussing me, the protestors, the governor, or the president out. He stayed quiet, though, watching me with his eyes sharper than I remember them being in a long time. I explained how I’d been at the governor’s mansion for the troop standoff. “So yeah,” I said when I finished. “Seems like everybody has it out for me these days.”

  “Not everybody. Buzz Ellison’s been talking all week about how the soldiers did nothing wrong, about people jumping to conclusions and assuming you were all guilty.” He almost smiled. “Lot of people on Ellison’s side. On your side.”

  “I … I felt so helpless there today. Our own soldiers about to fight against each other, damn near shooting down helicopters, and there was nothing I could do.”

  “Something you can do. And you better get to doin’ it real quick.” Schmidty jerked a thumb back toward the shop. “Back your truck in. We need to get it ready in case something happens.”

  “What’s going to —”

  “Just go get your truck!”

  I did as he said, and when I climbed down from the Beast, he was waiting for me with a big black metal toolbox. Inside he’d packed a couple lighters, a serious bowie knife, a hatchet, a length of rope, a blanket, a dozen military meals ready to eat, and some bottled water. “We’ll bolt this to the back of your truck so nobody can steal it and so it don’t rattle around.” He pointed up to the loft where I kept the Beast’s hard-shell cover for the back. “We’ll put that on today too.” I opened my mouth to complain, but he held up his hand while he lit another cigarette. He puffed smoke. “No, don’t give me no back talk. You’ll need the cover on that thing. It’ll be cold soon anyway. Keep that truck fully fueled at all times, and check the spare tire. Run a full maintenance check on it every week.”

  “Geez, Schmidty,” I said. “You sound like this is the Army. We’re not at war, you know.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on.” He pointed at me with his cigarette. “Neither do you. But shit’s gettin’ bad, Danny. Real bad.”

  We started bolting the heavy toolbox down in the back of the Beast.

  —• The Dow plummeted 6 percent today. The NASDAQ and S&P also suffered another decline. Investors are worried about the
increasingly troubling situation in Idaho and how that might affect the nation’s industrial and agricultural production, while currency traders are dumping the dollar, resulting in a spike in dollar-based commodities. Oil and gas prices are on the rise, bringing bad news for an already struggling transportation sector. Market analysts predict •—

  —• From NPR News, this is Everything That Matters. I’m David Benson. While a shocked nation waits to see President Rodriguez’s response to Idaho governor James Montaine’s forcible defiance of the federal government, the American public is not waiting to respond with their opinions. The newest poll figures released this morning show the president’s approval ratings plummeting to a mere 33 percent, the lowest by far during his entire presidency. Nationwide polling also shows considerable disapproval for Governor Montaine, with only 39 percent of Americans polled supporting the governor.

  Montaine is polling much higher within the state of Idaho, but there may be serious signs of trouble for the governor and some of his supporters in the Idaho legislature. The Idaho secretary of state announced today that Montaine opponents have gathered enough support to begin an official petition for the governor’s recall. The opponents now have seventy-five days to collect a sufficient number of signatures. Under Idaho law, if the petitioners succeed, a special recall election would have to take place this November second. The secretary of state also recognized the start of recall petitions for many of the governor’s allies in the legislature. Even if Governor Montaine survives the recall attempt, recalled seats in the legislature would remain vacant until the next general election, making it difficult for the governor to pass his initiatives in special sessions, as he has twice this year. If enough Idaho voters choose to recall the governor, the post would be filled by the lieutenant governor until the next general election.

  While the president’s Republican opposition might be expected to take advantage of these poll numbers, Speaker of the House Jim Barnes said this morning that, quote, “unity and understanding are more important than ever in light of the current crisis.”

  On the other hand, support from Democrats is beginning to cool. Senate Majority Leader Laura Griffith said, quote, “I fully expect the president will finally engage with this issue to lead us to a solution to this problem. Delay only worsens the situation.” •—

  Once during our junior year, I overheard Sweeney talking to his girlfriend at the time — a girl from a different school, Emily or Emma or Ella. (He probably dated a girl by each of those names that year.) Anyway, he said, “So what do you want to do tonight?”

  She went, “I don’t care. Whatever you want to do.”

  He was all, “Want to go out to eat?”

  She said, “Sure.”

  “Where do you want to eat?”

  “I don’t care. Wherever you think.”

  Sweeney told me later that apart from how much she put out, it had been like dating himself.

  JoBell was never like that. She always had an opinion about what she wanted to do on a date or about what the United States should do about the war in Iran. Well, about how fast the military should leave Iran. She wasn’t too bossy or anything. She’d just been raised to be passionate about her ideas, and that passion kept things interesting. Except for when she was complaining about Montaine or the Battle of Boise, I liked it.

  I sat parked outside JoBell’s house early Friday morning, relaxing and waiting for her to come out so I could drive her to her student council meeting before school.

  “Hey, soldier, your … National Guard armory is calling,” said Digi-Hank.

  I looked around for something to punch. “Damn it! What the hell do they want now!?”

  “Sorry, partner. Should I ignore the call? Maybe you’d … like to listen to some of my greatest hits from your playlist instead?”

  Drill was Saturday and Sunday, and Sergeant Kemp had already got in touch with me on Tuesday with his usual leader’s call, reminding me to get a haircut and make sure my uniform looked good. He had also asked if I wanted to volunteer for full-time state duty. They put out these requests sometimes, asking for soldiers to help fight a wildfire or flood. I turned him down. I’d had more than enough extra National Guard duty.

  “No, Hank,” I said. “Put the call on speaker.”

  “No problem,” said Hank. “You’re a great American.”

  “Hello,” I said. “This is Wright.”

  “PFC Wright, this is Sergeant Kemp.”

  I felt a wave of relief. Better Sergeant Kemp than Staff Sergeant Meyers. Definitely better than a call starting with the code “rattlesnake.” “Go ahead.”

  Kemp sighed. “Bad news. I’m really sorry for the late notice, but I was just notified of this myself. Drill has been changed to a MUTA-Five. Formation tonight is at eighteen hundred hours.”

  This was bullshit. Most drills were only MUTA-Four, meaning one Saturday and Sunday a month. They couldn’t just change everything the Friday before drill and make it a MUTA-Five. “I can’t make it. I have a game tonight,” I said. “Can I split train at least for tonight?” Sometimes a Guardsman could make up time before or after drill if he had something really important going on.

  “Sorry,” said Sergeant Kemp. “Commander says everybody attends, no exceptions. Some big training exercise.”

  I bit my lip for a moment, wondering if I should ask what I wanted to ask, but I didn’t need to. Sergeant Kemp went on, “Don’t worry. This isn’t another Boise. We’re heading out to the woods to practice dismounted infantry tactics or something. I’m sorry you have to miss your game. I’ll see you tonight before our eighteen hundred formation.” He tapped out.

  “Damn it!” I punched the center of my steering wheel, sounding the horn. I’d signed up for the Guard to serve part-time. Now it was taking over my whole life.

  JoBell came out of her front door and practically skipped down the stairs from her porch. She opened the passenger door with a big smile on her face. “Hey, I was hurrying. You didn’t have to honk.” She climbed in. With her bag on the floor, she strapped in, her comm in her lap.

  “Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people,” her comm said. “Perhaps you would like to discuss several updates to news stories you’ve been following.”

  “Not right now, Eleanor,” JoBell said.

  Her fingers were already sweeping and tapping her comm.

  “I understand. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.”

  “Hey, I have to tell you something,” I said.

  “Me first!” she said.

  “No, this is really important.” She would be pissed when she found out drill had been changed to MUTA-Five. I knew I was mad.

  But JoBell didn’t look up. “Eleanor, can you bring up the document that I was looking at last night?”

  “Certainly, JoBell. I’m happy to help.”

  “Can you put that thing away for one second!?” I said.

  JoBell frowned for a moment, then closed her comm’s cover. “Sorry, baby. I really want to show you this —”

  “Sergeant Kemp called a minute ago. It’s total bullshit, but they’re changing drill so I have to go in tonight instead of tomorrow. It’s an overnight thing. I’ll be gone all weekend.”

  She froze with a worried look on her face. “Is something happening?”

  I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Naw, it’s only drill. Some training exercise. One weekend a month and two weeks a summer, right?”

  “Plus wars.” JoBell looked out the window.

  “But I’m not deployable until after I finish my job training, and then it will be a while until my unit ships out again, because they’re over there right now. So they won’t be sending me to Iran for a long time. It’s fine, I promise. It sucks that I have to miss football, though. Coach will be pissed. I know I am.”

  “Well —” She turned back to me and grinned. “I have something you might find interesting.”

  What? I’d e
xpected her to be a lot more disappointed about drill. We were planning on partying after the game and spending some time in the Beast on the Abandoned Highway of Love. The thought of it had kept me going through the week. “If it’s more bad news, I’m really not in the mood.”

  She tapped her comm. “No, this is great!” She read whatever she had on-screen. “Dear JoBell. Congratulations! It is my pleasure to offer you admission to the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences at the University of Washington. After reviewing your strong academic record, blah blah blah … At the University of Washington, you will join a group of students eager to pursue academic excellence, etcetera, etcetera.” She leaned over the center console and hugged me. “I got in! Just like that, the next phase of my life is all set up.”

  The University of Washington? In Seattle? When had she decided to go to U-Dub? We didn’t really talk about college much. I knew she’d always wanted to go, but for a while, she had talked about going to the University of Montana at Missoula, only three hours away. Seattle was, what? At least a five-hour drive?

  I fired up the Beast, but something was a little off, a weird low growl under her normal engine noise. Something I felt instead of heard. I’d have to check it out next time I was in the shop. Why would JoBell want to leave? Why hadn’t she told me she applied to U-Dub?

  “Well,” she said as I drove down the street. “What do you think?”

  “It’s … That’s … You know, far away.”

  She folded her arms. “How about a congratulations?”

  “Well, yeah, obviously. Congratulations.” I couldn’t even look at her. “I didn’t know you’d applied there. You could have told me.”

  “I guess I didn’t tell you because I was worried you’d react like this.”