Fire Sweeping: The California Ballot Killings Book II

by H M Wilhelmborn

  Larry scratched his chin, sighed, and he told Hannah to talk to Sheila, who was in her office. “To be honest, Hannah, the CWP aren’t as bad as I initially thought,” Larry said. “They want what’s best for all of us. I’m beginning to see that now.”

  Hannah’s brilliance, of course, had allowed her to anticipate that Larry would tell her to talk to the Hoviaks on-site. To make her case to the Hoviaks, Hannah had brought her diplomas from Condorvine College of Law (summa cum laude), from Condorvine College (summa cum laude), and a copy of her valedictorian speech from Condorvine Preparatory.

  She asked me to prepare binders containing the laws she’d drafted for the Hoviaks; copies of her billing statements showing how much time she’d worked on their cases; copies of her annual evaluations by Larry, Amandine, and Andy; and copies of any favorable news coverage regarding the laws she’d drafted.

  Her evidence ready, she asked me to help her carry it to Sheila’s office.

  “Good luck,” Larry said to Hannah.

  Amandine walked into Larry’s office and asked what Hannah was up to.

  “She’s fighting for her reputation,” Larry told Amandine.

  Amandine nodded and closed Larry’s door so that they could chat in private.

  Hannah adjusted her parchment-colored glasses as she knocked on Sheila’s door.

  Sheila had a scowl on her face as she looked at me. I didn’t care. I was there to support Hannah.

  “May I please have a moment of your time?” Hannah pleaded with Sheila. “I’ll make it worth your while. I’m succinct, and I don’t waste time.”

  Sheila listened as Hannah made her case.

  Hannah spoke of her work for the CWP and of how she anticipated the laws she’d drafted for them would come under attack, from whom, when, and why.

  She told Sheila that an attack was part of the natural life of any law, and all laws needed defenders to uphold them. While the governor now had the state to help him uphold her laws, no one in the state of California knew those laws as well as Hannah—

  “Read this,” Sheila said. She gave Hannah a printed sheet of paper.

  “But this is Scrimmage,” Hannah said, examining it. “The CWP’s core beliefs. Your core beliefs.”

  “Read it,” Sheila ordered Hannah.

  Hannah read the document out loud.

  “We believe in the Constitution of the United States of America, in our right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We believe in private property and in our constitutional right to defend it. We believe in the state of California, in its people, and in its need for strong moral leadership. We believe in one Right Path, one republic, indivisible, out of many, one. We believe in the seven moral postulates, delivered to put us back on the Right Path. We believe that without these moral postulates, we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past and destroy our planet and ourselves. We believe that only the California Water Party has the vision to bring these postulates into being. These are our seven beliefs, and these are our seven moral postulates. We live and die by them:

  1. Good morals and good water are the foundation of a healthy people.

  2. When morals and water become polluted, we die.

  3. We must avoid death at all costs.

  4. We live by facing our moral and water issues.

  5. These are life and death issues.

  6. The Right Path wants us to thrive.

  7. If we fail, destruction awaits.”

  Hannah looked at Sheila.

  “Do you believe that Scrimmage is true?” Sheila inquired of Hannah.

  I coughed, and Sheila glared at me.

  “I know that you believe it’s true,” Hannah answered.

  “If you want to work with us, you must believe it’s true, Hannah. Belief is not as difficult as people think. It’s only a matter of telling one’s self something is true because it has to be. Believing will make it easier for you to convert.”

  Hannah adjusted her eyeglasses and took several deep breaths. “Let me tell you why you don’t want me to, um, convert, as you say, Sheila. I already have my own religious beliefs, which are completely distinct from my professional life. It took me a long time to accept my family’s religious beliefs as my own, and I’m not giving them up.”

  Sheila smiled at Hannah. “Can you provide me with the name of the person or people who told you that we’re a religion?”

  “You want me to convert. You also speak of pilgrims, Sheila.”

  “Every organization in America has a brand, Hannah. Scrimmage is our brand. It’s how we talk, how we act, and what we believe. Seventy-one percent of Californians approve.”

  Hannah stared into the distance and took a deep breath. I could tell that she was tempted to take apart what Sheila had just said methodically.

  “But they’re my laws,” Hannah said, at last. “I wrote them.”

  “We’re glad you take pride in your work, Hannah.”

  Sheila turned her back to us and looked out the window. Her uniform clung to her as if it were afraid that it might be ostracized if it strayed too far from her person.

  Hannah and I left Sheila’s office. When I got back to my desk, Andy and Amandine were in Larry’s office, and the door was open.

  “I know,” Larry said to Andy. “They’re congregating outside. This is crazy.”

  Hannah walked into her office, with all the files, and closed her door.

  “Where are the dust storms when you need them?” Larry asked. “Where’s the 115-degree heat when you need it? We need a mighty dust storm right now to get rid of the riffraff that’s congregating outside our offices. They look homeless. Why aren’t they at work?”

  I didn’t know what Larry was talking about, but I soon heard the chants of the people outside our office building.

  “A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad!”

  “What is this riffraff on about?” Larry asked. “The governor’s supposed to arrive in thirty minutes, and these fools are now everywhere. Just look at them. The great unwashed. They have no respect for the governor or his office. Only in America.”

  I noticed something. Whether Larry realized it or not, he was coming across as a little more sympathetic to the CWP.

  I went to Larry’s office, and a large crowd had gathered outside our offices, waving placards with the governor’s decapitated head on them, while they chanted, “a killer and a cad.”

  “But how did they hear that he’s coming here today?” Amandine asked.

  “Search me,” Larry said. “But they’re tortiously interfering with my business relationships, so I’m calling the cops.”

  “It’s not a crime, Larry, and it will only inflame them,” Amandine said. “They’ll just end up breaking stuff.”

  “A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad!” The crowd chanted.

  “Janet,” Larry said, “did you have someone order lunch for the governor and his people? I doubt they’ll want to eat anything when he sees this lot. Just look at those three. What! This is getting out of hand!”

  I told Larry that I arranged for the lunch to be ready since I couldn’t work on any CWP matters.

  I looked at the woman holding a bullhorn.

  It was Gregoria Handbloom of Mothers for Mercy, and she’d brought the press with her! So that Gregoria wouldn’t see me, I hid behind Larry, and Larry asked what I was doing.

  “Well, they scare me, Larry,” I said. “Look at them.”

  “Of course, they do,” Larry said. “It’s the homeless riffraff!”

  “Janet,” Amandine said, “don’t be so provincial. These people want jobs.”

  “And they probably want us to give them to them,” Andy said.

  I remained behind Larry, just in case I needed to duck or run away.

  Gregoria spoke into the bullhorn. “My name is Gregoria A. Handbloom, and I’m the founder of Mothers for Mercy.” [Applause.] “Today, the corrupt, wackadoo, and
poisonous governor of the state of California, Jeremiah Trehoviak, will be coming to the law offices of Wagon, Shui & Xebec.” Gregoria pointed directly at our offices. I dropped my head. “Wagon, Shui & Xebec,” she continued, “is where all the CWP’s terrible laws are written. Section 1(a)(1), which establishes a water court and punishes ‘theft of water,’ was written here. The Law of Lavish Things, which bans everything, was written here. And the law putting up the California Water Party flag on all your state buildings was written here. Wagon, Shui & Xebec are the counsel of record to a killer and a cad!”

  “A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad!”

  There was a light wind, and Gregoria’s bloomer dress moved about gracefully as if it were preparing for her official portrait as the head of Mothers for Mercy.

  Hannah walked into Larry’s office. She wondered why I was hiding behind Larry.

  “They could throw things at us,” I said, lying.

  “I used to like Gregoria before she attacked my laws,” Hannah said. “I thought she was smart, but now I can see that she’s just as foolish as the rest of them. Does she honestly think that we shouldn’t represent people just because she doesn’t like them?”

  “A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad! A killer and a cad!”

  “You may be asking yourselves,” Gregoria said, “why we call the governor a killer and a cad. He killed Eleena Chiredzi in the Southern African Federation. He televised it on his California Homeland Channel, and he was proud of it. He hasn’t repented for it, either. He’s also a killer because of these terrible laws he’s passing, which will give him all the power he needs to inflict additional suffering, while he profits from it.” [Applause and whistling.] “And we know he is a cad because everyone at the top of his party, including the governor, treats women poorly. Governor Trehoviak only has female guards. Why? Because he wants women to take a bullet for him.”

  “Nonsense,” Andy said. “The CWP has more women in positions of power than any other political party. This old woman doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

  “Friends,” Gregoria continued, “we know that the governor is coming to his attorneys at Wagon, Shui & Xebec today. The only reason he would come here in person is to write more laws that damage us. He already has people from his party permanently in their law offices, ensuring that they do his bidding every day. If you doubt me, take a look at the people in CWP uniforms looking down at us right now from those windows! Look, friends!”

  I ran out of Larry’s office. Now I didn’t want to be seen with these people, my coworkers from WS&X.

  “She’s off her meds,” Larry said, as I stood at his door. “Gregoria Handbloom needs to get back on her meds.”

  The blue Hoviak phones that Anton and Mike had given Larry, Amandine, and Andy, all rang. Larry picked his Hoviak phone up and put it on speakerphone, after greeting Anton.

  “They’re all here with me,” Larry told Anton. (Larry presumably meant that both Amandine and Andy were in his office.)

  I stepped back into Larry’s office, and Hannah and I, who should have stepped out of the office while Larry talked with Anton of the CWP, stood at the window and observed those gathered outside.

  “The governor will not be intimidated,” Anton told Larry. “Today’s meeting goes ahead as planned.”

  “Of course,” Larry said.

  Anton ended the call.

  Gregoria and her supporters started singing, “We Shall Overcome.”

  “Just look at this mess,” Larry said. “A granny singing civil rights songs in my parking lot. What does she have to overcome when she’s been rabble-rousing for most of her life? This is also why I will never represent organized labor. Rabble-rousers.”

  “We Shall Overcome” completed, Gregoria said that she had two “powerful friends,” who would help her make her point about the governor and Wagon, Shui & Xebec.

  “Friends,” Gregoria said, “Mothers for Mercy believes in working with many local and national organizations in our fight against these cruel, wackadoo, and poisonous members of the California Water Party!” [Laughter and applause.] “I would like us all to listen, now, to my friends from the Church of the Moral Elixir, Mandible Harquebus, and Stefana Frontispiece.”

  I could have passed out.

  It was becoming a nightmare.

  If the Hoviaks found out that I’d recently gone to both places, they might think that it was I who had leaked information about the governor’s visit, which wasn’t true.

  My heart was racing, and I had to tell myself to take deep breaths.

  “It’s like a carny festival out there,” Larry said. “You have the granny in her pink parachute, and you have the two snake oil salesmen who run around on late-night TV chasing snakes, while they ask for donations.”

  Hannah and Andy were giggling at what Larry’d just said.

  I just hoped that Gregoria, Mandible, and Stefana didn’t mention my name.

  “Family members,” Stefana said. “This governor is worse than Nebuchadnezzar! Nebuchadnezzar, the Book of Daniel tells us, was a raving-mad ruler, who imprisoned people, and he thought that he was better than God’s prophecies. Well, we have a prophecy that the governor can embalm in his mind.” [I think Stefana meant “engrave.”] “Please welcome the other half of the divine chosen couple, Mandible Harquebus.”

  I didn’t know whether to feel proud or ashamed for having attended these people’s meetings. What were they doing outside my workplace!

  Stefana handed Mandible the bullhorn.

  “Family members, there is a vi-per com-ing here today from Sac-ramento!” Mandible told everyone. “This viper sli-thers around. Beware! Do not fall for its magnif-icent markings! Do not be entranced by its eyes! At the first opportunity, it will punc-ture, para-lyze, and devour you, whole.” [Applause and hisses.] “I have had visions, family members, in which the viper came to a venom-ous end, right here on the streets of San Diego. This viper’s name is Jere-miah Treho-viak! We must protest it, fight it, and tr-ample it underfoot before it sinks its fangs into us!” [Applause and hisses.]

  Stefana took the bullhorn and thanked Gregoria and Mothers for Mercy for inviting the Church of the Moral Elixir to join them.

  “Family members,” Stefana called. “Please—“

  “Open your wallets and give us your tithes,” Larry scoffed.

  Hannah and Andy burst out laughing.

  “How many among you are from the great state of Colorado?” Stefana asked the crowd of about two hundred people. At least half of them raised their hands. “How many of you are unemployed because of the venom the governor spews onto the radios [sic], and the TVs [sic], and the online things [sic]?”

  The same people raised their hands.

  “How many of you are tired of being called ‘Raddies’ and ‘Collies’?”

  They raised their hands.

  “Wagon, Shui & Xebec,” Stefana reminded them, “writes the laws that allow you to be treated as second-class citizens in your own country—“

  “That is inflammatory,” Larry said. “We have never written any such law—“

  Hannah scratched her head.

  “Well, the Lord giveth and taketh,” Stefana told the crowds. “If Wagon, Shui & Xebec can write the laws that take away your rights, then they can offer you jobs. How many of you have brought your resumes?”

  All of them raised their hands.

  Gregoria took the bullhorn.

  “Let us wait for the governor to arrive before we march to the front desk of Wagon, Shui & Xebec and present them with your resumes—“

  “The barbarians are at the gates,” Larry said. “We need to call the cops.”

  “Don’t overreact, Larry,” Amandine said. “The governor will talk to them, and they’ll disperse.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” Andy responded.

  “He doesn’t have a choice,” Amandine said. “He’s the governor, and he’ll want to reassure them
that he’s on their side, that nothing bad is happening at WS&X, and that it is a routine visit to old friends. It’s the politic thing to do. That’s why I voted for him.”

  “How long before he gets here?” Larry asked.

  “Five minutes,” Andy said.

  Sheila came to Larry’s office and said that the governor would address the crowds before he entered the building. It was the only way to defuse the situation.

  Amandine looked at Larry.

  Sheila told Larry, Amandine, and Andy that they should meet the governor, Anton, and Greta in the parking lot in five minutes, and they should stand by him as he addressed the crowds, who were waving their resumes in the air. All the CWP “consultants” in the office would be with them, as well.

  As I have shared before, Jeremiah Trehoviak looked like Richard Nixon, and Andrew Jackson had had a son in the underworld. At most, Trehoviak was five foot one, and, even as governor, he wore the CWP uniform, which consisted of a double-breasted green blazer, a green tie, a white cotton shirt, green slacks, and loafers with green socks. As the highest-ranking CWP officer, he had seven gold stripes and seven gold stars on his shoulder boards.

  Anton Cola, his second-in-command and his Second in the amorous realm, stood alongside him, also dressed in the CWP uniform. Near Anton, Greta O’Connor stood in her outfit. She was also one of the highest-ranking CWP officers, and she was Mike’s wife. I wished that it would rain and she would fall in the mud. Maybe she’d also roll around in the mud, like a squealing little piglet.

  I believe in telling the truth, so I’m not cruel when I say that I detested Greta; I’m just honest.

  I called her “Granite,” as if she were an inanimate and cold rock, whose only goal (if it could think at all) was to be as immovable as possible unless pushed. I’ll begrudgingly admit that Greta was also beautiful in the classical sense, and I was not. Her face was striking, and mine was not. She was memorable in other ways, and I was not. And she was powerful, and I was not. Above all, she was Mike’s wife, and I was not.

  As I’ve shared, CWP rules allowed both Mike and Greta to have two spouses each. Greta had Trehoviak and Mike (a fact that was only known to a few people), and Mike had Greta. Of course, he wanted me as his Second. For him to have me, though, I’d not only need to convert, but Greta would also have to approve of the relationship and of its terms, which would be memorialized in a contract; it’s just the way things were. The CWP called this “the Right Path.”