Renegade - 13

by Joe Nobody

  Watts didn’t seem impressed. “You’re inciting a crowd of people who, just a few hours ago, tried to storm the lockup and lynch Mayor Garcia. I’m asking you to cease this activity before we have another incident on our hands.”

  Shaking his head in disgust, Cyrus pushed back hard. “I knew you were in Diana Brown’s back pocket, Sheriff, but I had no idea regarding the extent that woman had corrupted you. I am merely exercising my right of free speech. You should be ashamed of yourself, infringing on the inalienable right of assembly.”

  “If you incite a riot that results in any of my men, these citizens, or the suspect being harmed, I will arrest you in a heartbeat, Governor,” the sheriff hissed.

  “You don’t have the authority to arrest me, sir,” Cyrus stated, crossing his arms in defiance. “I am a regional governor. Only the council can impeach me.”

  “True. And they will have the opportunity to do just that … right after I arrest you.”

  Grim wasn’t exactly sure who was right. That point of Alliance law had never been tested. What troubled him further was the fact that SAINT Six was clearly standing behind Young.

  Cyrus wasn’t done, “Why are you so desperate to protect that criminal, Sheriff? We can have a trial and jury right here, right now, and get this over with. These people have been wronged as has the Alliance. Let’s convene a hearing. I can have a judge down here from Dallas in two hours.”

  “Because I don’t believe he’s guilty,” Watts countered. “As a matter of fact, I was on my way to release the mayor when you started ginning up this mob.”

  The governor seemed stunned. “What! You were going to release the man who robbed these good people of their future?”

  Now Grim was growing even more concerned. Despite the powwow having moved to the side of Young’s SUV, the crowd had slowly gathered around. Cyrus was barking loud enough that all the dogs could hear, and those hounds were getting angrier by the second. “Gentlemen! Let’s take this discussion inside, please!” the SAINT leader tried to reason.

  Both Watts and the governor ignored Grim’s suggestion, as well as the growing murmurs of discontent rising from the mob.

  “I have evidence that indicates Mayor Garcia is innocent,” Watts announced loud enough for the surrounding hotheads to hear. “He wasn’t the perpetrator. He was a victim, just as he has claimed all along.”

  Cyrus threw fuel on the fire. “What kind of game are you and Diana Brown playing here, Sheriff? Where is that money? Did the Alliance dictators change their minds and decide Moss Ridge wasn’t worth their investment? Is Miss Brown lining the coffers of her political campaign with this town’s blood money? What kind of cover-up are you trying to propagate here?”

  Tensions were elevated even higher when the citizens who believed Garcia started arriving. Now voices were being raised to support both of the arguing officials, and a number of shouting matches erupted on the fringe of the crowd.

  Grim had heard and seen enough, the expressions on the faces of the mob informing the grizzled old veteran that Watts was outmatched when it came to public relations and convincing the crowd. Leaning close to Kevin, he whispered, “Go tell Butter, Bailey, and the deputies to get the mayor the hell out of town, right now. With SAINT Six here, we will have a bloodbath if we try and hold them back.”

  Kevin nodded, pivoting quickly and disappearing through the crowd. Grim watched to make sure no one harassed the lad, finally relaxing when he saw his man sprinting toward the jail.

  Watts and Young were still going at it, the two Alliance authorities now raising their voices over each other. Grim could feel the stress building on both sides. It was none too soon when Butter’s voice came over the radio, “Boss, we are moving him out know. He’s leading us to a friend’s farm on the outskirts of town until things cool down.”

  Grim waited for two minutes, the delay long enough to give his men a reasonable head start. Then, with a firm hand on Watts’ shoulder, he stepped in close and whispered, “I ordered my team to evacuate the prisoner. We should get out of here before this gets out of hand, sir.”

  The sheriff was a reasonable man, and something in Grim’s message evidently brought the enraged lawman back to earth. With a curt nod, Watts acknowledged the suggestion.

  Turning back to his nemesis, Watts spat, “This is over, Governor. We will settle this in Alpha next week.”

  Watts then pivoted, the crowd parting like Moses was about to cross the Red Sea. With Grim on the sheriff’s heels, the two hadn’t gone two steps when Governor Young smelled a rat. By the time the duo had reached the edge of the throng, Cyrus figured out that he’d been had. “They’re moving the prisoner! They’re letting Garcia go!”

  “Run!” Grim shouted at Watts a second before the first rock whizzed past the retreating pair. The sound of broken glass followed them, agitated bellows and harsh curses rising from the mob.

  Grim and Watts barely reached the next corner when the first shot rang out, and for a moment, both thought that the shock of the gunfire might help disburse the horde.

  Running hard, they zigged and cut through the few streets that made up downtown Moss Ridge, Grim turning to run backward now and then just to ensure no one was gaining on them. Watts, at his age, wasn’t exactly a sprinter.

  More gunfire was heard, adding to the mounting din of heated shouts and the occasional scream. Just as the duo was about to cut into the woods bordering the edge of town, Grim heard the sound of engine noises, then squealing tires.

  Before disappearing into the trees, he caught a glimpse of Governor Young’s SUVs racing out of town. No doubt Captain K had hustled his charge into a back seat and ordered a hasty exit when the deer rifles came out. “At least SAINT Six did their job,” he mumbled, wondering how many bodies the people of Moss Ridge would have to bury the next day.

  Chapter 11

  The Houston Chamber of Commerce, like the city it served, was a mere shadow of its former self. Before the collapse, the Bayou City’s economy would have been the 28th largest in the world, outproducing entire countries such as Austria, Ireland, Egypt and Norway.

  In fact, events in H-Town contributed greatly to the downfall. A natural gas line explosion, triggered by rioters protesting the closing of a hospital, quickly overwhelmed a budget-deprived fire department. In less than 24 hours, major portions of the country’s fourth largest city were burning out of control. Despite the heroic efforts of the police and firefighters, those flames consumed power lines and relay stations, eventually knocking over the first domino that resulted in a widespread failure of the grid.

  It took weeks for the raging inferno to burn out, over 400 square miles of the cityscape lying in blackened, charred ruins. The loss of life was astonishing, the number of homeless refugees greater than any other natural or manmade disaster in the history of man.

  Like every other major metropolitan area in the world, services such as sewage and water ceased to exist. Within a month, the US Army had to be called in, establishing draconian martial law, yet still barely able to maintain control.

  Even after the Alliance had established a firm presence in Austin, El Paso, San Antonio, and Dallas, Houston was still the government’s problem child. Millions had perished from starvation and diseases, hundreds of thousands more fleeing in distress. Alpha had been forced to maintain Houston’s soldierly presence within the city limits for months after every other metropolitan area had been returned to civilian control. What had once been one of the busiest and most vibrant urban areas in the country now numbered less than 400,000 residents.

  Cyrus, invited to speak by the Chamber of Commerce, wasted no time in reminding the audience of those fresh wounds, harping on the painful experiences that had resulted from the fall of the United States.

  “Why is it that the government in Alpha took so long to address your needs?” he asked the attendees. “Why did your families and neighbors have to suffer military rule for such an extended period? Why did every other major city in Texas rece
ive aid and begin the recovery so much sooner than Houston?”

  The challenger paused, scanning the sea of faces, assessing the impact of his words.

  “I’ll tell you why,” he continued. “Diana Brown doesn’t believe the future involves the big cities. She has given up on you. Her lack of experience has resulted in her inaction. She is totally unprepared to address such extensive issues, and has no clue how to bring the recovery here … where it is needed most.”

  Cyrus could see several heads nodding in agreement, but not all. I’ll fix that, he thought.

  “In fact, if you analyze her administration’s efforts to resolve H-Town’s problems, it becomes clear that your city isn’t high on her priority list. If elected president, I promise to reverse this illogical and inequitable trend. I will put the Alliance’s resources where they will do the most good – benefit the most of our citizens, and allow everyone to participate in the recovery!”

  Cheers of support rang out, many in the audience clapping in encouragement. Cyrus knew he was winning them over.

  “Just this morning, I learned of yet another example of Miss Brown’s prejudice against our nation’s urban areas. Against all advice, her administration determined that Moss Ridge, Texas would be the benefactor of a new, multimillion-dollar project to create a distribution center for trade with Mexico. How many people in this audience even know where Moss Ridge is located?”

  After scanning the sparse show of hands, Cyrus smiled broadly and said, “I didn’t think so. To be honest, I had to look it up.”

  He waited for the few chuckles to die down before continuing. “This project was not only ill-conceived and badly planned, but it has also now fallen victim to corruption, with hundreds of thousands of your tax dollars missing and unaccounted for. But that’s not even the worst of it. Why would anyone with clear judgement fund the construction of warehouses and truck terminals at some tiny, remote location when Houston has hundreds of empty, abandoned, unproductive facilities already in place? Why would Alpha invest in training new employees for this endeavor when your community has tens of thousands of capable men and women who are desperate for work? I’ll tell you why – she doesn’t believe in you! She thinks the residents of our cities are lazy and unproductive! She believes you want nothing but handouts and to spend your days trying to game the system!”

  The crowd’s response grew more frenzied, Cyrus nodding and smiling as he fed off the energy directed at the stage.

  “If graced with victory in this election, I promise to reverse this trend. Houston is the Alliance’s future. We should be investing our talent, energy, and resources in Texas’s former jewels – places like Austin and Dallas and all the rest of our metro areas. If I am elected the next president of the Alliance, I will execute these changes and return your city to its rightful glory!”

  Diana was losing.

  While there weren’t any sophisticated polls or databases of potential voters, Terri could feel it in her bones. The momentum was shifting, and that mandated a change in the campaign’s strategy.

  Clearly the conservative candidate, Diana was dominating in the rural areas of the state. Her message of small government, free enterprise, and self-sufficiency resonated among the survivors who had endured the collapse mostly on their own accord.

  “My office has three primary responsibilities,” she often proclaimed in her stump speeches. “To protect the borders of Texas, to enforce the laws of the Republic, and to regulate trade. The framers of the US Constitution were clear about the executive branch’s powers, and I believe those great men showed genius in the balance struck between centralized and localized government. As all of you know, we have modeled our own foundational laws on that great document.”

  That line drew massive roars of approval in towns like Bandera and Meraton, the crowds often cheering wildly until Diana was forced to wave them down.

  The cities, however, represented a different block of voters.

  Even in pre-collapse Texas, the major metropolitan areas had leaned toward the liberal end of the political spectrum. That divide, however, deepened far beyond mere left versus right, red versus blue. City life was vastly different than everyday existence in the countryside. Constituents who lived in urban environments depended on government services, such as sewage, water, mass transportation, and food that was delivered by truck.

  It was nearly impossible to grow enough vegetables on the typical city lot, or practice target acquisition with a hunting rifle on a suburban street. Livestock was non-existent in downtown Austin, raising chickens likely to earn the scorn of the neighborhood associations in Dallas. Having a private water well in El Paso was illegal.

  When those critical services disappeared practically overnight, the dense, packed masses of humanity suffered badly. In Bandera, you could carry a bucket to the river or a neighbor’s well, and avoid dehydration or flush a toilet. Not in San Antonio.

  In Meraton, farmers brought produce, eggs, and butchered beef into town to barter. Those same traders would have been quickly overwhelmed or mobbed in Houston.

  Smaller, rural communities suffered far less than their cousins in the metro areas. Country folk, on average, were far more independent. Dissimilarly, the intertwined support system necessary to survive in the concrete jungle was tangled and complex.

  Those differences were now shaping the election.

  Diana’s platform and message were based on recent history, formed by the incredible pain and suffering experienced after the downfall. Her campaign slogan could have easily been, “Never Again.”

  Alpha, under Miss Brown’s guidance, governed with a bias to avoid repeating the same mistakes that had caused society to fail. The council didn’t believe Texas was ready for huge, dependent, populations concentrated on small, unsustainable patches of urban earth.

  The citizens, post-collapse, were urged to grow their own food, raise their own livestock, and plant their own orchards.

  Priorities were given to agriculture and transportation, not trash removal in downtown Houston. Bridge repairs that connected farms to towns were funded before interstate overpasses in the center of Dallas. Hospitals were opened before banks. Factories that produced tractor parts were operational before those that filled the shelves of department stores. Gasoline and diesel were rationed to grow crops.

  While the council didn’t directly oppose rebuilding the cities, they definitely didn’t approach urban projects with any additional urgency. The recovery, they believed, would ride the tide of a productive countryside. Prosperity would flow from the rural to the urban environments, not the other way around.

  Cyrus Young and his supporters believed that reestablishing society needed to be handled in an entirely different manner. Their movement was based on rebuilding the cities, reestablishing the epicenters of technology and advancement. They wanted to resurrect Texas exactly as it was before the collapse.

  The election had basically boiled down into a contest between voters in the country versus those who sported urban addresses. Rather than liberal versus conservative, one newspaper described it as “Slickers versus Rednecks.”

  Terri firmly believed that Diana could persuade those living in the urban expanses that her platform was best for them – if she could get her message across.

  That delivery, however, was proving difficult.

  Cyrus owned the media, at least the newspapers and radio stations operating in the metropolitan areas. If Diana was quoted, her message was warped or out of context. Printed pictures of Miss Brown were judiciously selected to feature the candidate in the most unattractive light. Fake news, in the form of rumors, made the journalistic rounds like wildfires.

  All of that was about to change.

  Pete was opening a new restaurant on the outskirts of Dallas, and with a little arm twisting, had agreed to invite Diana to speak at the ribbon cutting ceremony. The new establishment would provide several jobs to the hard-hit area and was even to be covered by Dallas’s only functi
onal television station. Free beer and live music were being advertised, amenities that historically drew massive crowds.

  Given the importance of the opportunity, Terri had separated from Diana’s caravan and was heading into Big D to finalize the arrangements. Her candidate would arrive the following day, expecting to deliver her message directly to the city dwellers and perhaps even obtain fair coverage on television.

  Terri had sold Diana on making the advance trip in order to hit Cyrus hard. After all, Dallas was in Governor Young’s backyard, and everything from the stage to the signage had to be perfect. Besides, Bishop was going to be attending the ceremony, and Terri desperately missed her husband.

  With a single security man pulling double duty as her driver, Terri’s RV was now rolling toward Dallas. For the first time since the election had grown nasty, she felt like her team was on the offensive.

  “Starting to rain, ma’am,” the driver called out. “I would suggest you and the boy stay put and buckle up, if you please.”