Autumn (Four Seasons Book 1)

by Robert Sullivan

  It had been years since he had seen her. He had not realized it until that point, but he no longer felt an emotional connection to her. He knew that he should feel guilty about it, but he could not bring himself to do it. Greg wondered if Veronica, if she was even alive, still thought about him. He knew that if she did turn out be alive and had spent all this time waiting to be back with him, then it would crush her to see him dating other people. He, and the world at large, would have moved on without her.

  Greg decided to keep things superficial with Ashley. He felt it would do him good to socialize more often while still keeping true to Veronica. It would be much easier, however, if Veronica were found and rescued from whoever was keeping her from him.

  Later that week, Greg was at his apartment going over a list of names that Bob had forwarded him. They had been regimented between fighters and non-fighters, with Zach’s name at the top of the list of the fighters. Greg had resolved to meet with this Zach, but before he could call Bob to tell him about it, there was a knock at his door.

  Greg, perplexed, got up and answered the door. To his surprise, Bob was already standing there, looking thoroughly excited. With Bob was a Hispanic woman with two young boys beside her whom Greg had never met before. “I was just about to call you about meeting Zach…” Greg started.

  “Yeah, you need to, but this is more important right now,” Bob said. “This is Juanita, Greg.”

  “Hello, Juanita, I’m Greg Carlton,” Greg said, still confused. “Do you know why Bob is so excited?”

  “I used to work for the Black Hand,” Juanita explained.

  Greg felt a sting of hostility towards her until he realized why she was here. “Used to?” he said, seeking to confirm his suspicion.

  “Yes,” she replied. “But I want to help you stop them.”

  “Please, come in,” Greg said, showing the four of them in.

  Once Juanita had sat down on the couch and was making herself comfortable with the two boys sitting on her lap, Greg and Bob swung chairs from the dining table to face her. “Do you mind if we record this?” Bob asked.

  “No,” Juanita said. “This is going to take a lot of explaining.”

  “We have time,” Greg said.

  Juanita sighed. “I don’t really know where to begin. My boys and I were living on the streets a couple of years ago. I didn’t know what to do, being homeless with a toddler and a newborn. I was about to take them to the orphanage when I was rescued by a man named Jared Bennett.”

  “He said that he was up and coming in this organization and that he could help me if I worked for him. I didn’t have a choice. It was either starve and lose my boys, or work for Jared and be able to provide for them. So, I went to work as a secretary for Jared.”

  “Jared, it turned out, was part of the Black Hand. Not just some street grunt, no he was the leader of the whole thing. I worked below a restaurant not far from here. I saw him bring in countless prisoners to torment and I accepted it because he told me they had it coming. They were rich people who had brought it on themselves by not helping us.”

  “I believed it. I had been left out in the cold and dark without any help from the same people. I let him do what he did. But then, one day, he brought in gold. Lots of it. I knew where he had gotten it from, because there is only one place in the city with gold like that. And while he was bringing in the gold, I was seeing the news about the attack on Central Park. I knew he used the attack as a distraction to steal the gold.”

  “I understood what Bennett was at that moment. He didn’t just attack the rich, he attacked the poor as well. He attacked everyone, because he only wants control. That’s all he cared about. So that same night, I left and took my two boys into hiding. I heard about your Conspiracy from some other people and tried to find you as quickly as possible. I knew I could help you and I hoped you would protect me.”

  Greg was stunned. All he could do was stand up and say, “I need a minute,” before going to the window and standing there facing Juanita.

  As he stood there rubbing his face, Juanita asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” Bob explained. “I think he is just having a hard time processing what you just said.”

  “You’re god…” Greg started before he remembered the children were listening and that he probably should not be cursing. “You’re, uh, right, Bob. That was a lot to take in.”

  “Can you stop Jared?” Juanita asked urgently.

  “Well, now that we know his name, I bet we will have an easier time of it,” Greg explained. “Where exactly was this restaurant at?”

  “Across the park from here,” Juanita said.

  “Greg, what are you thinking?” Bob asked with a worried tone. “I hope you aren’t thinking about actually attacking…”

  “No that would be suicidal,” Greg said, waving him off. “But I bet you know where that gold is at?”

  Juanita nodded. “Are you going to steal it?”

  “Greg, you can’t,” Bob started to protest.

  “I can and I will,” Greg said. “Juanita, we can protect you as best we can, but if you could tell us how to get around this place where they are keeping the gold, I bet I can get some people in to take at least some of it. Enough to at least to get a propaganda victory.”

  Bob looked stunned as he said. “I can see what I can do to keep you safe, Juanita, but Greg this is utter insanity.”

  “I really need to speak to Zach,” Greg added. “And Eric. I need people on the inside and people who know how to fight if this turns ugly.”

  Bob looked frustrated as he said. “Look Greg, I don’t know who you think you are, but if you think I’m just going to sit by and allow this madness, then you can think again. I didn’t start this Conspiracy just to see you hijack and it turn it into a militia!”

  “What exactly did you expect was going to happen?” Greg asked. “Even before the Central Park attack and the Federal Reserve robbery, how exactly did you expect to stop the Black Hand?”

  Bob immediately retorted back with, “I was going to get people into the local governments to do some good from there. I wasn’t going to turn it into a personal vendetta!”

  “What good did you think the government would do?!” Greg barked. “I was a part of the Task Force remember? My superiors went out of their way to let the Black Hand get out of control! Do you think the local government could have done anything? And there’s a lot of variables there before we would have even gotten to that point, like actually finding candidates, getting them elected, raising money, campaigning, it was months of time and effort that we can’t afford, Bob. 2000 people died on January 31st! In one attack! We can’t wait around for someone to save us, Bob! We have to do it ourselves! No one is going to help us!”

  Bob fell silent, letting Greg continue. “I know that I’ve thought the same as you. I want Liam Hensen to win the Presidency because I think he will do some good. But we can’t rely on that. We don’t have the time and even if we did, there’s no guarantee he can do anything even if he wanted to. His hands might be too tied up by red tape. That’s why we are trying to work outside the system.”

  “I just…I need some time to adjust to all of this,” Bob said, getting up. “Greg, I don’t like where this is going. If you can promise that we can do this without bloodshed, then I’ll keep helping you.”

  Greg sighed. “I can’t promise there won’t be any. But I will try to limit the fighting as much as possible. We don’t need to fight to get some of that gold; we just need to be careful. We can manage that.”

  Bob nodded. “That’s probably all I can hope for right now. Juanita, we should go now. We need to work on getting you safe.”

  Juanita nodded and got up to leave with her two sons. “I’ll need to stay in contact with you, Greg.”

  “Bob can get you into our network,” Greg explained.

  Juanita drew close to him and earnestly said, “You need to stop them, Greg.”

  “I will,” Greg r
eplied fervently.

  “Good,” she finished. She kissed him on the cheek and turned to leave with Bob. Greg was alone again with his thoughts, but this time he was not thinking about Ashley. This time he was beginning to wonder what he was getting himself into.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Announcement

  Spring was beginning to show across the country as March began to wear on. As warmth spread across the country, the Presidential campaign continued to heat up as well. The three major parties were deep into their primary season while the Evangelical and Globalist candidates were focusing on the battleground states for the general election, though it was still eight months away.

  For Liam Hensen, it was about establishing cash flow and an organization structure across the country that would carry him to November. Speeches promising safety and security were all well and good, but nice sentiments would not get him across the finish line first. It was not only the Presidency he had to worry about; 34 seats were up for grabs in the Senate that cycle, along with all 435 seats in the House of Representatives. The House election was especially important, as it was probable that between five candidates, no one would get the required 270 electoral votes to win the Presidency.

  For his part, Liam had been doing well enough, especially after cracking open some cash flow from Hollywood. The Globalists did not have candidates in all of the House and Senate races, but they had enough to theoretically win a plurality in both chambers. Candidate selection had been left to the local Globalist enclaves. The idea was to let them pick local candidates who could match the politics of that area while still going along with the overall national party platform.

  To that end, the Globalists did not have a platform as of yet, other than “safety and security”. The adoption of an overall platform was to occur at the party convention, which did not have a venue yet. Liam had been dropping hints at rallies that a location would soon be announced. The reason he had not announced it yet was simple; there needed to be an assurance it would be open when he wanted it to be.

  St. Patrick’s Day saw him in Florida, talking to a small crowd of local Hispanic leaders in Miami. It was important for him to cultivate this crowd; over the past decade, Hispanics had had a strained relationship with the Progressive Party and Liam saw an opportunity to bring them to the Globalists and secure a huge voting bloc for his party.

  Liam, however, did not know much Spanish. There was a reason he had chosen to speak to the leaders of the Hispanic community down here; they all knew English. This scheme would not have worked if he had gone to a full Hispanic community.

  “I’m here to listen to you and offer the same thing to you that I am offering to all of America,” Liam said. “I want to keep all Americans safe and secure from these threats, both foreign and domestic. You are an integral part of this country and entitled to what I have to offer.”

  The crowd was in a town hall setting and was rather subdued. Liam exuded confidence, but inside he was fearful that this message would not get across effectively. “We understand that, Hensen,” someone shouted from the front. “Don’t think we don’t know about gang violence.”

  Liam stepped from behind the podium and took the microphone with him. “What is happening here in Miami is happening all over the country. I know everyone only talks about New York these days, but I understand what is happening there happens here, it’s happening in L.A., it’s happening in the Midwest, it’s happening everywhere. I want to stop it everywhere, not just in New York. I don’t want to just stop it for Caucasians, or African-Americans, or Asian-Americans, or Hispanics, I want to and will stop it for all Americans.”

  “How?” the same person asked.

  “A plan is being worked out with my team of advisors,” Liam replied, as he had many times before. “I am not going to reveal the finer particularities of this strategy because I want it to be a complete surprise to those who disturb the peace with their lawless ways.”

  “What exactly would you ask of us?” someone asked from the back.

  “I just want your support and your vote,” Liam explained. “You don’t have to donate unless you want to.”

  “You understand that you are speaking to people who are mostly Progressive party members?” another person added. “Why should we choose you over our own party?”

  “What good has voting Progressive done for you, ma’am?” Liam asked simply. “Has it stopped the gangs from terrorizing the streets? Do you go to bed at night knowing you’ll be safe because you voted for your own party?”

  Liam knew he had nailed it right then and there. The crowd was talking about it amongst themselves about this fact that their own party had let them down as if they had known this fact all along, but had not actually admitted it out loud before. He waited a brief moment for someone in the crowd to ask him another question, but no one spoke up.

  “I hope that you will prayerfully consider myself and other Globalist candidates for leadership so we can fix what ails this country and help you rebuild your lives,” Liam said, ending the town hall. The crowd clapped, a bit more strongly than they had when the town hall had started over an hour ago. Liam took it as a good sign and walked away from the stage.

  Back on the bus on the way to the airport, Liam was enjoying a drink and relaxing while Ryan was gathering some information to share with the candidate. Liam had wanted an update on the other parties’ races so he could prepare criticisms of the specific candidate. Given that they all had a long political history, it would take much digging to come up with something that could hurt.

  Ryan turned away from his computer and said, “Javier Sanchez is the presumptive nominee in the Progressive Party.”

  Liam had known for months that this was the way it would turn out. It would not make winning the Hispanic vote any easier, especially since Sanchez was a second-generation American and actually could speak Spanish. “We have eight months to work with that. Hopefully he just follows the usual moonbat bullshit platform they have. Which, I should add, would probably alienate the traditional Catholic crowd.”

  “Maybe,” Ryan said. “Jane Thompson dropped out of the Center race last night.”

  “She should have dropped after Super Tuesday,” Liam said darkly. “Does that leave Green and Anderson then?”

  “Yes, but Thompson is telling her delegates to go for Green, not Anderson,” Ryan explained.

  Liam leaned forward, intrigued. “Anderson was the front runner though.”

  “Yeah and she hates her. She’d rather have Tom Green get the nomination and risk losing the general election rather than see Violet Anderson have a legitimate shot to win the White House,” Ryan said candidly.

  “What’s with those two?” Liam asked.

  “Vicious personal attacks bordering on outright slander,” Ryan said. “They have a long history of antagonism going back to when one was a Democrat and the other was a Republican. Just because their traditional parties blew up and they ended up together doesn’t mean they don’t hate each other.”

  “You’d think they’d set that aside to keep someone like me from winning,” Liam said.

  “You’d think, but what can you do? I say putting an unelectable candidate in the driver’s seat gives us an edge that can only help since the Center controls Washington right now.” Ryan said.

  “What about the Conservatives?” Liam asked.

  Ryan glanced back at his laptop. “Hall is ahead comfortably, but Lopez hasn’t been mathematically eliminated yet so he is sticking around for the time being.”

  “What’s Ward up to?”

  “Running around the South trying to build up a base,” Ryan said shortly. “He isn’t making any traction though because, I don’t know, people don’t think prayer will fix the rioting.”

  Liam chuckled. “The Evangelicals are only viable because they are the only ones that’ll cooperate with the Center enough to make a majority. If the Center ends up nominating Green, then they’ll probably end up losing their plurality
and the Evangelicals will be useless.”

  Liam looked out the bus window and asked, “Where are we going?”

  “New York,” Ryan said.

  “That wasn’t on the schedule,” Liam said, annoyed.

  “The Knicks were eliminated from playoff contention last night,” Ryan said.

  “This late? I thought that happened in October,” Liam said sarcastically. Then he realized what Ryan was saying. “Did we get the Garden?”

  Ryan cracked a wide grin. “June 4th through the 7th.”

  “A full convention?” Liam asked, stunned.

  “The boss felt that if we were to look like a viable party, then we would need to run a convention as such. We are working on filling up all the time slots for that kind of thing. It helps that we have grown tenfold in membership since the last Presidential election,” Ryan explained.

  “Did the boss say anything else?” Liam asked.

  “Keep up the good work,” Ryan said simply.

  Liam nodded. “Let’s go to New York then.”

  Later that evening, Liam was at an impromptu press briefing at the base of One World Trade Center. He had chosen this venue as a sign of New York’s strength as the financial capital of the world, despite recent events. The curfew had been eased up somewhat during the last two weeks, allowing Liam to hold the briefing despite the darkening sky.

  “I want to thank you all for coming out tonight, despite the short notice,” Liam started to the attentive reporters. “I’m glad to get a warm reception in this city, as I want to use it as an example of what my party intends to do to help the country recover and heal from the ongoing violence.”

  “New York has stagnated over the past two months. Not only because of the attacks, but because of the fear that the attacks have wrought. Nobody wants to hold an event in this city and I know you are all hurting from it because of how much this city relies on tourism.”