Free State Of Dodge

by Javan Bonds

  Alvarez was going to correct that his unit was National Guard and that he had been wearing a kepi, but he simply smiled and shrugged. “So you don’t think this will be a problem?” Bol lifted his hand and pointed up to his flattop.

  “Hell no. Jackson used to have one.” Redstone remembered his friend with a flattop—he had kept his hair short most of his life except for that one year in high school when he sported what was often referred to (at least by Redstone) as “Jesus hair.” He would see Bol as just another guy who didn’t want to waste time fixing his hair.

  The corporal seemed content that Jackson would not immediately dislike him for being a government employee and asked with a little bit of a smile, “So what we doing today?”

  Redstone dropped one hand out his open window. “Well, you ever rode a horse?”

  CHAPTER 23

  July 23

  “NO ONE VOTED for you!”

  “You can’t tell us what to do, you Nazi!”

  The entire crowd basically said the same thing. Sherman had organized a town meeting through word of mouth, and more people had shown up than he had expected. He now sat behind the long desk at the head of the boardroom in town hall, and the benches on the floor had more people sitting on them than was probably safe, he supposed. He didn’t know how these fucking bumpkins had all found out about the meeting. He guessed they were used to not using phones and walking to their neighbors’ houses. It didn’t matter how they had found out; everything he was telling them was now law. The gun buyback was either a failure or none of these yokels could afford guns, because thirteen of the fourteen firearms he had confiscated had come from that shitty little pawnshop.

  But he didn’t care about that. It wasn’t really imperative to his mission that he disarm all these inbreds anyway. He was only here for that stupid kid. The kid had to be here; he wasn’t still in DC, and they had lost track of him the day he’d bolted. And even though they had been searching in areas around Washington, Sherman bet the little bastard was down here, or at least on his way. For days he had blocked any traffic crossing any of the bridges into town. And since they didn’t have the manpower to monitor every rickety backwoods bridge in the town limits, he had put his men on the main state bridges and found some rednecks who were dumb enough to accept government vouchers as payment for the service of standing on the wooden bridges and stopping anyone coming or going. Of course it was completely feasible that a person could simply step over one of the streams in the woods, but this way he was undoubtedly halting vehicle traffic. The kid would probably hitchhike on one of the FEMA trucks, and they would catch the little fucker.

  He didn’t really give a shit what any of these hillbillies thought; he had just hoped that having this meeting would make it appear that their opinion mattered, so he would not have to deal with their pitchforks. But he could see now that they were just as mad as they would have been had they not been told. There were a few throwing sarcastic Nazi salutes his way, and he had even heard a few “King Shermans.” It didn’t offend him; he could do whatever he wanted to these people, and they had to respect the word if not the man.

  He sat facing the assembled rednecks with an agent on each side of him and tried to focus on the biggest talker, some really old guy named Kennedy or something. Even though he didn’t sound as stupid as the rest of these hillbillies, he kept ranting about “constitutionality” and a bunch of other bullshit like that. Constitutionality is whatever the hell I want it to be, Sherman thought. If this geezer didn’t go back to whittling or whatever old guys did, he was going to have to have him taken care of. He almost smiled as he thought of a joke about a grassy knoll and halfheartedly responded to the general outcry, “Yes, all of these complaints have been noted. As you said, sir, we cannot keep you all locked in your homes, but we are trying to keep you safe. That is our job.”

  This immediately received a response of angry yelling from several people at one time, and Sherman could not even hear what the old guy was saying. The bumpkins were really pissing him off, and he was sure they could tell by the look on his face that he just wanted to throw a grenade in the middle of the crowd and be done with it.

  The entire crowd quieted as the guy sitting beside Kennedy stood and calmly said something about “interstate travel.” Who the hell was this guy? He’d come in with that old bastard who would not shut up, and he was probably middle aged; Sherman could tell just by looking at him wearing his camouflage and cowboy boots that he was one of those survivalist rednecks who felt they didn’t have to answer to the government. He felt like shooting this motherfucker in the face as an example to all of these other yokels. Sherman wanted to say in response, “No one has the right of movement unless I give it to them.”

  “‘Martial law is in place, so you people have to do whatever the hell we say!’” Jeff said this in a mocking tone, his ire increasing as he spoke. He didn’t really intend to imitate Sherman’s voice, just imply that was Sherman’s intent and basically what was being said at the meeting. Everyone in the room knew Jeff was angry; the veins in his neck were almost bulging, he was stomping, and it normally took quite a bit to make him cuss.

  ◆◆◆

  He had planned to enter the house, briefly speak to his wife, and then make his way to the bunker, where he would probably call his son and blow off some steam by explaining and ranting about the meeting. But when he came in the door with Old Ben on his heels, he found that Jackson and Redstone were sitting at the bar drinking lemonade and that Denise was out in the garden.

  Jackson and his best friend had been riding their horses and observing the Pike cattle and were planning to go check the Stones’ shortly. Neither family had had any of their cattle stolen, nor had anyone else in the town reported such theft, but the children of survivalists knew it would be a problem once strangers started passing through town. Hollis had been sitting in the living room, reading the most recent and last edition of the local newspaper, released the day after the power failed. Jeff had no idea what the three young men had been talking about when he and Old Ben entered but was unsurprised to see Redstone in his natural state of being, laughing hysterically as Jeff opened the door. Jeff was too enraged to care, and the others’ mood immediately sobered as they saw the look on his face.

  Jackson asked, “What happened at the meeting?”

  Jeff paraphrasing the National Guard sergeant first class was the answer. Before going to the meeting, his father had asked him if he wanted to tag along, but Jackson didn’t think his presence would make any difference at all. Now he felt guilty because if he had been there, things would have gone differently. He wasn’t sure how it would have made a difference or what he could have done but thought his presence would have possibly made an impact on the decisions. The Jedi Master looked just as angry but was, unusually, completely silent and sitting still.

  Redstone sat his glass down, puffed out his chest, and asked, “So are we going to have a shootout with the legionnaires?” He immediately answered his own question and stated flatly, “I’ll make sure to borrow Bol’s machine gun with the grenade launcher.” Sergeant Alvarez had made Redstone promise to keep their earlier shooting session private, because he didn’t want it getting back to Sherman that he had allowed a local to use National Guard weapons. And Redstone had sworn he would, but he couldn’t resist telling Jackson while they were checking the cows—he knew that the information was safe with the Pikes.

  Jeff had drifted into deep thoughts. Suddenly looking at Redstone, he said, “Your dad was at the meeting; he was as mad as I was. I need to go talk to him later.”

  The Old Jedi was sitting at the table, staring out the window and muttering to himself about taking a stand.

  With no other conversation in the room, Jeff listened, then snapped his fingers and said, “Hot damn. A good idea. Mr. Kennard! We need to find someone to try to travel out of town and for the border guards to try to stop them. We’ll be there to make sure the traveler gets through.” Jeff wanted to force
the National Guard unit to threaten and arrest an American citizen and violate that person’s rights. He would be there to make sure the military was going to uphold the law or face justice.

  Jackson thought about volunteering but realized his father would want him there when they pushed back.

  For a few moments, the room was deathly quiet—until Redstone broke the awkward silence. “So…who’s going to be the bitch?”

  Jeff rolled his eyes and found his son’s thoughts. “We’ll ask around, but neither of you. I want you with me.” He pointed at the two younger men, and they nodded in unison.

  Hollis silently observed the conversation before him; he wasn’t stupid enough to offer to do it. And even if he were, he knew that his uncle would deny his help. He looked to his cousin and Redstone, who were visibly contemplating a good candidate.

  Redstone offered to ask his own father if he could find someone who would be up for it, but Jeff replied, “I’ll call him on the CB here in a little bit.”

  Redstone nodded in understanding before he and Jackson excused themselves to go ride over to the Stone pastures. They stood and began walking to the door and chatting back and forth. Redstone said, “Man, I got to take a leak. That lemonade ran right through me.”

  Jackson looked at him with exasperation. “Well, go to the bathroom!”

  “Nah, that’s what being outside is for.”

  Hollis chuckled in amusement as Jackson closed the door behind them and left him alone with his furious uncle and a crazed homeless person.

  CHAPTER 24

  July 24

  JACKSON CLOSED THE gate and walked to his horse, which was standing beside Redstone. As he mounted, Redstone, who was sitting on his own horse, gestured to the field of cows behind them. “I wish somebody would try to steal those cows. I want to shoot someone!”

  Jackson hadn’t heard his friend joke about using deadly force since before he had even been accepted into the police academy, but he knew that Redstone was too softhearted to kill anyone who wasn’t hurting his family.

  The two had ridden their horses through both properties almost every day for over a week, and other than one of the Stone cows dying in childbirth, neither herd had lost a single head. Technically, since the calf survived, there had been no loss, and Jackson knew that both families had been extremely blessed so far.

  The horses were trotting back toward the Pikes’ as Keith, Redstone’s father, walked out of his house into the yard and caught the eye of his son. He was the same height as Redstone but was filled out so as to not look as scrawny, and he was pretty physically fit for a man around the same age as Jeff. He had short, fading red hair and a trimmed goatee. He waved as the younger men traveled down the driveway and began jogging toward them. He looked at Jackson as he said, “I just got off the radio with your daddy, and I was going to go over there and talk to him. Do you boys mind giving me a lift?”

  Jackson knew the elder Stone had a diesel truck and a large underground tank like he and his father, but he probably did not want to waste gas and was going to walk. The fact that they had been passing by was simply a lucky coincidence, and Jackson automatically nodded his head in assent.

  “Yeah, but you’re riding bitch,” Redstone said flatly, and Jackson bit back a laugh.

  Keith sighed and climbed up behind his son, who said, “I need to get me one of those leather jackets with writing on the back, so when you fall off, someone will let me know.”

  Jackson had to turn his head as he laughed deeply; knowing Redstone meant the one that said, “If you can read this, the bitch fell off.”

  Jackson disagreed with the common outlook in every movie or book based on society ceasing to function. The storyteller always came to the conclusion that there was little to laugh about and that everyone lived a meager and depressing existence. No matter how hard times might get, he would always find things funny.

  They crossed the road and reached the Pike gate. Redstone immediately darted down from his horse, doing his part of the unspoken agreement and opening the gate. His father, who was still sitting on the back of the horse, turned to Jackson. “Y’all check the cows?”

  Redstone, hearing the question, answered loudly before Jackson. “No, we were just sitting on our horses at the gate when you came out.”

  Jackson smiled sheepishly, finding his smartass remark as humorous as always but trying not to seem too disrespectful to Keith.

  The older man, quite used to his son’s attitude, shrugged indifferently and shot back, “I didn’t know, jackass. How did everything look?”

  Redstone immediately replied with feigned sincerity, “Oh, I almost forgot: half of the cows have been abducted by men in black helicopters, and we figured we would take a leisurely stroll to Jackson’s and then possibly tell you later.”

  As Jackson rode his horse inside the gate, Redstone led his with his father on the back to the inside of the gate. He could feel his father’s stare on his back. He said with heavy sarcasm, “What do you think? The cows are fine.”

  Other than a few mumbled curses by Keith, no one spoke until Redstone had gotten back on his horse and they were halfway to the big house.

  Tilting his head in the direction of Jackson, Keith asked, “Did your daddy tell y’all he’s going to have somebody cross one of the bridges and see if Sherman does anything?”

  Jackson nodded and took a breath, but Keith began before he could speak. “Well, I’m going to be that somebody.”

  “About time you done something productive,” Redstone jokingly said while Jackson was nodding approvingly at Keith’s choice to participate.

  They made it to the side door in silence, and Jackson noticed that his mother had already unlocked the door. They entered to find Jeff, Denise, and Old Ben sitting in the living room discussing recipes for rabbit. Jeff, having a straight line of sight from his recliner to both the side and front doors, immediately acknowledged the trio’s entrance. “The three amigos have entered the building!” He said in an exaggerated voice and stood to make his way to the other men, and the other two took notice of the newcomers.

  Jeff met Keith a few steps into the living room, and the men exchanged greetings and handshakes.

  “I was thinking we’d try the highway bridge over Turkey Creek,” Keith suggested.

  Jeff chuckled. “Great minds think alike. I was about to say the same thing.” He asked Keith about his wife and how she was doing.

  “She’s doing pretty good—sewing or crocheting or knitting or something.”

  Redstone thought, you know we’re related; neither of us can tell you anything about women! He wanted to say this but thought better of it because of the occupants in the room. Instead he asked Denise as he leaned against the doorframe a few steps behind his father, “Hey, Mrs. Pike, can I have a glass of sweet tea?”

  She had always found it respectful of him to ask, and she nodded, pointing with her eyes to the kitchen. As he walked to the kitchen, Jackson raised a finger to request that his friend also get him a glass, and he grunted understanding. Jackson really never understood why someone who had spent almost as much of his childhood in this house as he had needed to ask for a drink, but he figured there was nothing wrong with the few occasions Redstone felt like being respectful.

  Jackson turned back to listen to the conversation between their fathers and saw that Old Ben had joined in and was telling Keith how he and Jeff had agreed earlier why that bridge would be the best choice. “Because there are always two National Guardsmen at either bridge on the highway, and standing up against outside oppressors will appeal to the locals who have not yet taken sides.”

  Jackson looked curiously amused. “Why would anyone want to take their side?” This was Alabama. People didn’t side with the government, especially federal.

  “People do crazy things when times get hard, young man. The government is seen as our protector and has been for longer than any of us can remember. And a lot of people are going to hang on to that image,” the wise
old sage said without actually focusing on Jackson.

  Well, maybe our entire lives, but I don’t know about you. Jackson smirked as he tried to figure out how old Old Ben really was. “Good point. But why do you think this is what will convince people we are the good guys?”

  Old Ben rubbed the back of his neck and looked up. “Less than a third of the American population supported revolution against England, and only half of that third were willing to fight.”

  “Snowballed,” Redstone interjected as he reentered the room carrying two glasses of tea and offering one to Jackson.

  Old Ben shot a finger in his direction. “Right you are, young man! When the other half of that third saw that the king would violate the rights of British citizens to keep order, they were also willing to stand up.”

  Everyone in the room had heard the Jedi Master’s monologue on this subject, and even though they knew the answer to every question and response to every line, they played their parts as if in a play.

  Jeff had not been intentionally keeping Hollis’s return from Keith; he just had not yet found a reason to tell him about it. And when discussing a good reason for Keith’s bridge crossing, Old Ben mentioned, “The young man in the bunker suggested you travel to the flea market down the highway across the bridge with a load of vegetables in hopes of selling them there.” Before the power had gone out, the flea market had been open every weekend for decades, with traders of everything from vegetables to chickens to T-shirts to antique car parts, all in a couple of old chicken houses and a few paved or gravel lanes on which each vendor set up shop.

  Both Stones knew about and had been inside the bunker, so the mention of it did not surprise anyone, but Keith was momentarily taken aback. “What young man?”