by Jf Perkins
Murfreesboro was in remarkably good condition. The houses on the outskirts were still the kinds of places that the pre-Breakdown generation would have regarded as the American dream, big houses with just enough land to pretend they lived in the country. Now the houses had odd additions for some level of operational self-reliance, and usually sported a horse or goat, and as much garden as could be crammed into the yard. The rode all the way into town without once meeting a roadblock, or patrol. Terry thought they must have some serious manpower to leave such a big town wide open, but that was his last analytical thought before he was overwhelmed by the scale of the place.
The county government was clustered around the downtown square. Like Manchester, they tended to abandon the most modern buildings for the older ones, designed to be livable without massive air conditioners on the roof. On this sunny afternoon, most of the windows were thrown wide open, and people roamed about the square, going about their business with smiles and clean clothes. Bill glanced at Terry to see how long the boy’s mouth was going to hang open in astonishment. It was a vicarious thrill to see Terry’s first encounter with a larger world. Bill was just old enough to remember Nashville before it burned, and he could never develop the sense of pure awe that the younger generation invariably experienced on their first trip to Murfreesboro.
Once Terry recovered from the square, Bill made his way out past the college, which was still larger than the entire Coffee County seat. Terry was in danger of hurting his neck from trying to see it all. The university campus blended seamlessly into the Capitol campus, which had been built directly on top of the geographic center of the state. If one walked into the Capitol building, the original monument still stood in the rotunda. Visitors treated it like a quasi-religious altar, since so little of pre-Breakdown Tennessee existed outside of this town.
Oddly enough, Murfreesboro still maintained a touristy historic village, Cannonsburg, that hearkened back to what Bill’s parents would have considered ancient history. The embedded display town from the 1800’s looked more like modern day than the rest of the city did.
Bill pulled up into a lot marked “Motor Vehicle Parking.” He was guessing that most of the cars belonged to state officials, until he found the visitor spaces and confirmed his guess. Either no one had business here today, or almost everyone rode horses and bicycles. When Bill shut down the engine, he assigned Seth and Jeffry to guard the truck, and invited everyone else to accompany him into the Capitol.
Tennessee’s Capitol was a pale imitation of the pre-Breakdown stone edifice, but that didn’t really matter. By modern standards it was an impressively large building. The white wooden columns across the front, the wooden slat dome, and the limestone first floor were all effective nods to the old Capitol. To Bill, it felt more like the rebirth of one small section of the Opryland Hotel. It would never replace his childhood mental image of what a true state capitol should be. He approached it for what it was – a building full of bureaucrats, while his companions saw it as he had once seen the limestone building in downtown Nashville.
The young men approached quietly, sufficiently awed into a natural silence. Bill was chattering all the way to the huge front doors. Once inside, even he felt the need to give the place some respect. The waxed stone floor surrounded the geographical center marker, and smaller versions of the front facade columns stretched up three floors to the inside of the dome, which had been plastered and painted with historical scenes from the recovery. Unlike the old history of the state, Bill was not sure what was being depicted, but he was impressed with the lifelike color of the work. He tried to imagine what it would take to paint actual pictures on a huge, curved ceiling, and gave up after a few seconds.
In someone’s attempt to pretend that modern was still modern, the information desk was curved to match the concentric design of the rotunda, finished in polished wood, salvaged laminates, and polished aluminum. In the white wooden space, it looked like someone had dropped a reception desk out of a passing UFO. None of the younger men noticed, because the desk was staffed by a remarkably pretty blonde whose job was most likely more about keeping the public at bay than helping them solve problems. In Bill’s head, his father’s voice was saying something about making the word “no” sound good.
“Here goes nothing...” Bill mumbled as he stepped up to the desk.
“May I help you, sir?” The girl asked sweetly.
“Uh, yes. I have a pressing legal matter to discuss. I was wondering if I might have a word with the attorney general, or one of his staff,” Bill replied, trying to sound more official than he felt.
“Your name, sir?”
“I’m Bill Carter, from Coffee County.”
“And you are an official?” She said it like a question with only one right answer.
“You could call me a mayor, but the legal issue in question muddies the water a bit.”
“I see,” the girl replied, clearly not understanding, but Bill had created enough intrigue to get past her screen. She picked up an old grey phone and dialed a few digits. “Hello, Amy. Yes, I have gentleman here who needs to see the AG... Yes, he does... Bill Carter of Coffee County...” There was long pause while the desk girl ran through a series of attractive facial expressions. “Ok, thanks.” The girl turned back to Bill and reported, “Mr. Carter. If you and your men will a have a seat, someone from the AG’s office will be down to collect you shortly.”
Bill was prepared to argue his way in, and had to pause for a beat to rein in his horses. Then he replied, “Thank you, Miss. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Between you and me, you must be well known. It can take days to get an appointment with that man.”
“I rather hope I’m not. Maybe he’s just bored.”
The girl smiled with perfect white teeth, and giggled. “Maybe so. Well, good luck.”
“Thanks again,” Bill replied, with a smile of his own. “Come on, men. Let’s see if these benches are more comfortable than they look.”
Bill was referring to the post-modern curved benches that were a stylistic match to the front desk, and completely out of place in this particular space. They made a dotted line round the rotunda, just inside the white columns, separating the walking space around the outside from the display space in the center. There were some more appropriate, meaning comfortable looking, chairs against the outside walls, widely arranged so that each office appeared to have one chair. Bill considered the chairs, but realized that if they sat there, his group would scatter almost halfway around the rotunda. Instead, he led them to a bench well around the circle from the front desk so that his boys would not bother the girl at the desk, and so that they could keep an eye on her without making fools of themselves. From this position, he hoped they could take subtle glances rather than spend the entire time turning around to catch another glance. Bill could understand the fascination, but he was some years past being ruled by his hormones.
The benches turned out to be just as bad as he expected. All five of them found that hunching over, elbows on knees, was the only way to find any comfort at all. Terry wondered if the design was intended to keep people from hanging around too long. Within five minutes, their butts were going numb, and that made the blonde front desk entertainment less interesting. They started shifting from one cheek to the other, fidgeting like little kids. By the ten minute mark, Bill felt like his father must have, trying to keep the kids calm on a long drive. Bill wanted to ask, “How much longer?”
When he was about to declare a visit to the facilities just for a break, another gorgeous young blonde emerged from the door nearest the front desk, spoke a few quiet words to the receptionist and walked straight over to where they sat.
“Mr. Carter?”
Bill stood up to greet her, but no sign of greeting was apparent. “Yes, I’m Bill Carter. These men are with me.”
“If you’ll follow me, the Attorney General is ready to see you.” She turned on her heel and marched back in the direct
ion she had come.
Bill, like the rest of his men, was watching her backside sway back and forth and wondering if Murfreesboro had a stable of hot blondes just for every state office. They fell into a rough line behind her and found the view even better as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. At the top, she turned right out of the stairwell and right again, through an imposing wooden door. The AG’s reception area was the exact opposite from the rotunda. Dark leather chairs and sofas were cleverly scattered around the room, and all were in sight of his own receptionist desk. It was empty at the moment, which led Bill to understand that he was following the AG’s receptionist. She didn’t pause at the threshold of another oversized door, this one finished and polished in a dark oak stain. She led them straight into the AG’s office, which consisted of a huge window overlooking the farmland to the north and a complete lining of bookshelves in the same dark oak. In the center was a massive cherry desk with one leather chair behind it, and five lesser, but equally nice chairs in front of it. Bill appreciated the attention to detail.
“Gentlemen, have a seat. The AG will be with you momentarily.” With that, she left the room, and Bill could hear her sit down and immediately start to shuffle papers at her desk.
The delay was intended, Bill expected, to give some time for the power of the office to sink in. From his point of view, he hoped it was long enough to give his men time to stop staring at everything like they had found the lost treasure of Oz, or something. Bill had developed a cynical attitude about the trappings of power down in Coffee County, but he understood the effect it could have.
As it turned out, the AG burst in through the side door, startling Bill and the boys. Before they could even react, he had scurried right over to Bill, and started shaking hands while they were still trying to get to their feet. Clearly an energetic man.
“No, no. Don’t get up. I’m Charlie Bell. Good to meet you all,” the AG said vigorously. Ten seconds later, he had finished shaking hands and flopped into his own chair with obvious relish. When he did, the AG slowed down enough for Bill to get a good look at him. He was short, stout, balding with a semi-respectable comb over of brown hair, turning to gray, but he was not fat. He was just naturally stocky. He had a jolly face, one that was hard to match to his job, but one that would clearly get votes if he ever wanted to move up in the world.
“Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Bell.” Bill said.
“Hey, gentlemen. It’s a public service job. What can I do for you?”
Bill looked around meaningfully. “It looks like a complicated job.”
“Nah, nah, not so much anymore. These days, it’s mostly about contracts and getting people who hurt other people. I’m just sort of a historian of the law. Everything you see is law from before the Breakdown... Except for these two.” He jumped up, pulled two volumes from the shelf next to him, and slapped them on his desk. As he sat back down, he said, “One for federal law, and one for state law. There are twenty-six more out in the library for county law, but most of them are very similar. Truth is, I’m as much judge and jury as anyone these days. We get a lot of authority to make decisions. I kinda feel bad for lawyers in the old days, they had to thread the needle of about ten million pages of crap on every case. The catch is that there are lots of rules about what us lawmen can and can’t do. The idea is to make sure that my chair is not filled with some asshole who wants to be king.”
“That can be tricky, I’d guess,” Bill replied.
The AG grinned, and said, “All too often, that is the case.”
“Well, funny you should mention keeping officials in line...”
“Uh, oh. Bill, you’re not here to ruin this beautiful day, are you?” the AG asked, the smile on his face disappearing in a heartbeat.
“Maybe. Depends on your point of view, I think.”
“All right, let’s have it.” The AG pulled a legal pad from somewhere behind the desk and grabbed a shiny pen from its holder.
“Do you know Jerry Doan Jenkins?”
“Oh, God. That rich bastard... What did he do now?”
“Well, he apparently won our land in a card game, and came out to claim it.”
“I’m guessing, since you’re here now, that it didn’t work out too well for him.”
“That would be correct. We have him in custody, and frankly, considering all the abuse he has delivered in Coffee County, we’d like the state to do something about it.”
“Did he come out to your place alone?” the AG asked.
“Uh, no... His men didn’t make it.”
The AG scribbled something on his pad, and asked, “Not to sound stupid, but Bill, why is the man still alive?”
“Two reasons. One is the practical fact that if he dies, another one of his family will just pick up the reins and start riding on the backs of the people. Even if that doesn’t happen, one of the other wealthy families will just fill the vacuum he leaves behind. None of that solves our problems. The other is a bit more symbolic. The people need to know that the state still exists for them, and the only way that will happen is if the state publically handles his punishment. As far as they can tell, they live in a feudal society under the local lords. We’re supposed to be citizens, not serfs.”
“Well, you’re no serf. I can see that you are a historian yourself.”
“When I have the time, I like to read. Trying not to repeat the mistakes of the past, you know?”
“I do. That’s why every day, I look at these books, and thank God himself that I don’t need a staff of twenty just to tell me what I need to know.” The AG shrugged theatrically.
“So, not to be pushy, but can you help us?” Bill asked with his tight body language.
“Well, you may be interested to know that big part of our policy meetings lately have been about this very thing. We have a plan to slowly get the county leadership back in line. The autonomy has been helpful, to be honest, up until recently. The state had literally no resources to help individuals within the state. The best we could do was to send out shipments to the counties and hope that they were distributed. We know that, more often than not, it didn’t work out that way. Coffee County is a bad example, but it’s not even close to the worst.”
“I’m surprised to hear that you know that.” Bill said.
The AG grinned again, and said, “Oh, we know enough. For example, I know about your place, and I know that the young man sitting next to you is Terry Sheffield. There’s a reason why we keep the official licensing through the state. At some point, someone would approach young Terry and offer him a side job sending us regular reports. Dusty Baer, you’ll be glad to know, has never said a word about your operations, but he has given us a pretty good picture of how things work in Manchester. Frankly, once the state approved your claim, we were pretty darn curious about what you were doing with all that land. We had to piece it together, since your people are extremely loyal. So, we don’t know details, but we know the gist of it. You’ve got a good thing going, and you take care of your people. Good enough.”
Bill’s mouth had dropped open, which made the AG laugh loudly.
“How do you think you got in so fast?” the AG asked.
“I wondered,” Bill replied, recovering from the shock of discovery.
“As far as I know, we should be sending people down to you for training, but I bet you are not ready to go that far yet,” the AG commented.
“No. We hand pick our people carefully. Maybe when the rest of the area is not so dangerous, we could talk about it.”
“Fair enough. So, on to business. I assume I’ve made my point about the state’s lack of resources?”
“Yes, but from this office, it’s hard to believe,” Bill said.
“Ouch! Got me there,” the AG replied with a chuckle. “Sure, we can do the easy stuff. Imagine how easy it is to build when there is a state full of hungry workers. The hard part is the training, and the planning, and the endless support of long term efforts.”
“Yeah
, I understand that completely. It’s easier for us. We rarely use money.”
“Sure, sure. Good food and a safe place to sleep are worth more than money these days,” the AG said.
“You bet.”
“Unfortunately, the state is full of money people who insist on putting a dollar value on everything, which means that it’s all too easy to project the numbers into the future, and watch the legislature panic when they see the cost. Plus, we’re back to the point where state employees themselves see in dollar signs, which means that everyone costs something on that big old ledger.”
“How many people work for the state?” Bill asked.
“I couldn’t tell you with any accuracy, but it’s a four-digit number now, counting our state police, which brings me back to business.”
“Ok, let’s have it,” Bill said, frowning just slightly.
“Well, normally, I could send an entire platoon down to Coffee County to pick up the Judge, but right now, every free man I’ve got is in Nashville.”
“Can’t you just call some back?”
“No, I can’t,” the AG replied, wincing. “And that’s the problem. Someone attacked our salvage operations down on the river, and we sent all our available men to Nashville to clean it up. Something went wrong and we lost contact four days ago. We’re trying to scrape up enough of the older guys to make a run into the city to find out what happened. Problem is, between you and me, they are old and fat, and they are resisting the idea very strongly.”
“So, you want us to go in and rescue your men?” Bill asked. “I’ve got seven men, all told.”
