A NATION DIVIDED - THE SECOND CIVIL WAR (The Second Civil War - BOOK I 1)

by Marshall Huffman

  “You know Counselor, for a brilliant attorney, you are one very bad liar. I can smell a scam a mile away. Since this is my day, I would appreciate it if you would cut through the crap and tell me what you really were sent to do,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

  Ralph’s eyebrows shot up. This old broad was as sharp as ever. He would have to be very careful.

  “Alright. The Small Arms Treaty. As you know the UN is pressing the US to support it. The President has given his word that the US will work with them in ensuring that it is adopted by our Congress. Of course you know all of that. What I want to know is how does the Supreme Court view the US adopting the treaty? Does it violate the 2nd and 10th Amendments?”

  “Ah, yes. I heard the Secretary of State's speech to the UN General Assembly. It sounds like the deal has already been struck. So now that the horse is out, you want to make sure you can close the barn door.”

  “Well...”

  “Typical. I can’t speak for the other Justices but then you already know that. I doubt that you intend to talk to each of them individually so here we are right back where we started only this time my day is a little shorter. What do you want Ralph?”

  Once again he was shocked at how quickly she saw through his veneer. He couldn’t just ask, ‘You old hag, when are you going to retire’.

  “Alright. The President wants to know your future plans.”

  “Future plans? You mean am I going to step down anytime soon?”

  “Well…yes, your retirement plans.”

  “You can tell the President that I have no plans to retire while he is currently in office. I can see what he is trying to do. He wants to make sure all Supreme Court decisions go his way. That’s not the way the system operates. We are a separate branch because the Constitution so deemed it. The President and his administration want to change the 2nd Amendment and one more judge in his corner would assure victory. That is not going to happen. You can tell the President that the Honorable Supreme Court Justice Foley intends to stay and will continue to safeguard the Constitution as it is written. Now, anything else Counselor?”

  “Justice Foley the President is not trying to stack the Supreme Court. He was just trying to figure out if he needed to start vetting other candidates in case you intended to retire. Nothing more.”

  Foley didn’t say anything, she just looked at him.

  “You don’t believe that?” Ralph asked at last.

  “Not for one minute. Now I would like to enjoy the rest of my day if you don’t mind,” she said standing.

  “I don’t want us to part this way. It is never good to have divisiveness between branches of the government,” he said starting toward the door.

  “I disagree. It is very healthy. That’s why the founders set it up that way. Good day, Counselor,” she said as she opened the door for him.

  He didn’t say another word. What could he say?

  CHAPTER SIX

  As Larson was walking back to the White House trying to clear his head he heard a huge explosion. Smoke billowed and he could see debris and rubble filling the air. The shock wave hit him with enough force to cause him to stagger. He leaned out and put his hand on a bus stop sign to keep from falling.

  Good God, he thought, what the hell happened? Please, not another terrorist attack. He started running toward the area where the blast had originated.

  Winded, he turned the corner and saw that a building was in flames and most of it was reduced to a huge pile of rubble. Only two partial walls remained precariously standing. People were lying on the sidewalk and in the street, many bleeding. Others were obviously in shock. Two cars were on fire and several others were smashed almost flat by the falling wreckage.

  He stood with his mouth open trying to decide what to do first. Finally he ran over to a woman lying on the sidewalk. She was covered with dust, bricks and broken glass. He removed as much as he could and felt for a pulse. She was dead. He moved on to another woman. She was still clutching a small child in her arms. She was alive but obviously in serious condition. The child wasn’t breathing. He carefully removed the child from her arms and started giving it CPR. He knew he had to use short, shallow breaths.

  More and more people began to arrive and soon ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks were on the scene. A pair of EMTs came by and relieved him of the child. Another EMT went to work on the mother.

  He stood up and looked around. He had never been in a war zone but this is what he imagined it would look like. People injured and dead, trees stripped of leave, cars on fire and crushed. What in the hell could have caused so much damage? It had to have been a terrorist attack, nothing else made sense. Made sense? When does a terrorist attack make sense? Even if it was a natural disaster, it was still a disaster. People had lost their lives.

  He looked down at his clothes. His pants were filthy and he had blood on his shirt and tie. Dust covered his entire body. Looking around he realized that there was little he could do. The professionals were on the scene and were trying to get the remaining civilians pushed back so they could tackle the spreading fire.

  Ralph slowly started walking toward the White House. He wondered what building it had been. The location seemed familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Whatever it was, a lot of people died in there.

  ***

  “Oh my God. What happened to you Mr. Larson,” the guard at the White House said when he saw him approaching the barricade.

  “I don’t know. There was an explosion of some kind, over on Eye Street. It took out the whole building. I can’t believe the destruction. People are dead and injured all over the place,” he told her.

  “We heard a big boom but that’s all. You mean someone deliberately blew up a building?”

  “Seems that way.”

  Once he was inside people stared at him as he walked down the hall.

  “Oh my God. Was it a terrorist attack?” his secretary asked when he got to his office.’

  “I don’t really know Helen. All I know is when I got there hardly anything was left of the building.”

  “Eye Street? Something important is located on Eye but I can’t think of it at the moment. Have you told the President yet?”

  “Helen. Do I look like I’ve seen him yet?”

  “Mr. Larson, you should call him now. He needs to know.”

  “Alright Helen. I was going to change first and then go over but I guess I should inform him now,” he said pulling out his cell phone.

  The number he pushed on his speed dial went directly to the President's Chief of Staff. The phone only rang once before it was answered.

  “This is Sarah. What’s up Ralph?”

  “There has been a huge explosion over on Eye Street. The whole building is practically gone. Lots of causalities. You need to let the President know. I just got back from there and it’s bad. Real bad.”

  “Oh Christ. Terrorists?”

  “Don’t know. Just a lot of destruction.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Shaken but otherwise fine. I need to change out of these clothes and wash up before I come over.”

  “I’ll go tell the President. We heard a loud explosion but no one gave it much thought.”

  “You go tell him and I will get cleaned up.”

  “Thanks for the heads up,” she said as she hung up.

  This was not going to make the President's day. She headed to the Oval Office. It had already been a stressful day and this was only going to make it worse.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Did you hear that? Someone blew up the HCI building in D.C.,” the caller said.

  “No way.”

  “Turn on the television. They are airing a live report.”

  Bob grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. A few seconds later he could see a destroyed building behind some talking head. He turned up the sound.

  “So far the number of deceased is still unknown. It may be a few days before they know how many were killed an
d wounded. Sniffer dogs are being brought in but until all the hot spots are put out, the fire department won’t allow anyone to enter the area. We haven’t been able to locate a spokesperson for the HCI which is located in this building.”

  “Barbra, has anyone taken responsibility for this act yet?” the anchor asked.

  “So far it has not been determined that this is an act of terror. The firefighters told me that until they could bring in the investigators there was no way of telling if this was a natural disaster or an act of terrorism.”

  “But that’s the way it appears now doesn’t it? Some pro-gun group or other militant group?”

  “Sorry, they won’t know until after the investigation is complete. Right now there is no way of telling just what caused the explosion,” Barbra said.

  The anchor looked into the camera.

  “Well if it was an act of terrorism it couldn’t have come at a worse time for the Administration. With talks bogged down on the Small Arms Treaty at the UN and Congress showing little support for the treaty it is a difficult time. If that wasn’t enough, the new unemployment figures released today show a large jump across much of the nation. The latest figures show that unemployment rose to 9.9 percent. That's up from last month’s 9.1 percent.

  In other news...”

  Bob muted the sound.

  “Damn. This isn’t good. The media will be looking to blame it on pro-gun groups. That jackass anchor was already hinting that it was the work of pro-gunners,” he said.

  “Tell me about it. That prick was determined to slip the message out that some radical pro-gun group was responsible.”

  “I think we should call an emergency meeting. Tonight if at all possible. We want to make sure our people know what to say. We don’t need someone spouting off. Let’s get the phone tree started.”

  “You got it. I’ll call my five names while you are doing the same. What time and where?”

  “Six thirty at the clubhouse.”

  “Okay,” the man said and hung up.

  Bob walked to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer. He opened it and took a big swallow. He almost spit it out. It just didn’t taste good right at this moment. He pulled out his cell phone and began calling the five members on his tree.

  ***

  The Shaw Valley Gun Club was located on a twenty-five acre tract of land just outside of Lawrenceburg, Kentucky. One hundred and seventy-eight of the two hundred and sixty-five members were in attendance which was remarkable for such short notice.

  The new clubhouse, built just last year, was already being outgrown by the number of new members. Bob looked around and realized that almost one third of those present were women.

  “Okay. Okay. I know you didn’t have much notice but we just felt that we all needed to be prepared for what may be coming our way. As you know, the Handgun Control Incorporated building was blown up earlier today. According to the latest reports ninety-seven are confirmed dead. Of course that number is expected to continue to climb as they dig through the rubble. Over two hundred are reported injured with seventeen of those in critical condition.”

  “What does that have to do with us?” someone near the back shouted out.

  “Hold your horses for crying out loud,” Bob said.

  There is always that one guy that has to start shouting out stupid questions.

  “I have been talking to several other gun clubs. Some as far away as Florida and Texas. Everyone is pretty unnerved by this latest event. Obviously that building was targeted and that is the problem. With the current administration trying to take away our second amendment rights, this does not help. If anything, it gives the anti-gun crowd a leg up. You know how the media works. The administration will use this to gain sympathy for their cause.”

  “Bob,” a lady in the front row said, waving her hand.

  “Yes?”

  “Has anyone taken responsibility for the bombing?”

  “Not so far. I doubt that they will but it doesn’t matter. The press will start to shift the blame to the pro-gun groups. The administration will feed them their usual pack of lies and off they will go.”

  “Still. They can’t prove it.”

  “You’re missing the point. They don’t have to. All they have to do is point the finger and then we are automatically on the defensive. The real crux of our problem is that the administration is pushing for the Small Arms Treaty at the UN. They are attacking the pro-gun people on every front. They churn out false statistics that the media plays up. In short, the deck is stacked against us. When you put all of this together along with the amount of new restrictions the government wants to initiate on gun manufacturing and ammunition we are close to losing our second amendment rights.”

  “We can fight it in the courts.”

  “Can we? How much money do you think it will take? What does it cost them? I’ll tell you. Nothing. They are using our tax dollars that we pay in to fight us. They have unlimited resources and they know it. I’m telling you, this administration is out to damage this country like no other before,” Bob said.

  “So what are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. I just want you to all be aware of how close we are to losing our rights. Here’s the thing. Each of us in this room and in others just like it are going to have to make some real hard choices soon. As I see it we have several choices,” he said pulling a cover off a white board.

  “Here they are. I’ve left room for other suggestions while we talk,” he said. “I’ll just go down them. One, we do nothing and hope for the best. Two, we contact as many other groups as we can and see where they stand. Three, we turn in our guns and ammunition when the government demands. Four, we stock-pile ammunition and hide it. Same for guns. Five, we leave the country and live someplace else. Six, we join a militia and follow their lead. Seven, we can find some place to hide. They will come looking for all of us. That’s why they want all guns registered. They know what you have and where you live. If you hide, you are going to have to change your name and drop out of your circle of family and friends. They will be hell bent on finding everyone on their list.”

  “What if we just refuse to comply?”

  “I’m pretty sure that will not be an option. You will be arrested and tried under some new law they are sure to enact.”

  “They are not going to force me to give up my rights. If we do that, what’s to stop them from doing away with freedom of speech? Will we start being arrested for saying something about the government that they don’t like?”

  “Well, usually that is the next step. Then assembly without permission will be disallowed. That’s how police states are formed. It follows the same pattern everywhere the government wants to have total control over the citizens,” Bob replied.

  “We’re talking about the end of our freedom.”

  “There you have it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “What do you mean she won’t retire as long as this administration is in power?” Hanna said, her voice rising.

  “I’m just telling you what she said. She knows what we are trying to do. She said she would not allow us to load the Supreme Court in the administration's favor so you could rewrite the second amendment.”

  “Damn it. Who the hell does she think she is? She should never have been appointed in the first place.”

  “That doesn’t matter. It’s a moot point.”

  “She’s healthy?”

  “Looks remarkable for an eighty-six year old woman.”

  “Crap,” Hanna said, sitting back in her chair.

  Her hands were pressed together at the finger tips, making a little steeple. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to think of a solution to this annoying problem. She turned and faced out the window. From her office she could see the monument.

  After a few minutes she turned back around.

  “I may have a solution. I need to see Adam,” she said and picked up the phone.

  “I
s this something I don’t want to know about?” Ralph asked.

  “It would probably be better if you didn’t,” she said and pressed the last number.

  “Hi Adam. Listen, I was wondering if you had a few minutes. I would like to come over and talk to you about a problem that needs your expertise.”

  “Uh...yes…that would be just great. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Thank you for making the time,” she said and hung up.

  “I’ve thought about it some more. It would definitely be better for you not to be involved,” Hanna said, standing up as a way of letting him know he was dismissed.

  ***

  “Mr. President, it isn’t that much of a stretch. We know one of the pro-gun groups had to have caused the explosion. Who else would take out the HCI building?”

  “I understand Ms. Cole but we need proof. No one has claimed responsibility for the bombing. What group do we point the finger at?”

  “You’re missing the point. We don’t have to point the finger at any one specific group. All we have to do is let it out that it was a radical pro-gun group. The media and public opinion will take care of the rest of it.”

  “Ralph?”

  “Well, Ms. Cole is oversimplifying it. The media will want a firm name to hang this on but if we can find the responsible party, the media will certainly be on our side.”

  “Then let’s give them a name.”

  “Who?” the President asked.

  “We just pick one. Hell it can be made up for all that matters. We can say it is a radical underground group and give them a fictitious name. We can say that Homeland Security has had rumors of such a group but haven’t been able to infiltrate them with any success,” Hanna said.

  “Listen to yourself. Are you so obsessed with this that you can’t see the problems that could bring the administration? If the press ever found out we made that up with no proof they would rip us apart. No, we are definitely not going to do that,” the President said.

  “Then you need to turn up the heat on the FBI and Homeland to find out just who did do this,” she replied.