As she stowed her baggage, Anna said, “You ready to start your search again?”
“Yup,” Heather replied as she fired up her laptop. “I can’t believe the security guard might possibly have been him. It’s a good thing Dwight is a light weight when it comes to appletinis.”
“But the little stalker said that the man never admitted he was your father. Only that he knew your mother. How did you even know to start there, with the Concierge I mean?” Anna asked.
“I knew that if it involved me or my mom the little ferret had to be in on it. He’s totally obsessed with my mother,” Heather answered. “Add to that the fact that the demeanor of ‘Mr. Scott Hendrix’ was not what I typically associate with a protection detail. I don’t know. The coldness you normally see in security guards wasn’t there, just a calming compassion. It was almost comforting.”
“Well, duh,” Ann replied sarcastically. “If he wasn’t calm his clients would be freaking out all the time.”
“There’s more to it than that though. I think maybe it was more along the lines of the things he said to me,” Heather replied.
“Like what?”
“Telling me to go to Pinehurst for my birth certificate and then to Columbus to make sure there isn’t a death certificate, for instance. He practically said that Papaw probably removed my father’s name from the copy we keep at their house, but that the hospital should have the original.”
“But do you really wanna do this though? What if he doesn’t want to see you?” Anna asked.
“He wouldn’t have come all the way to California for mom’s funeral if he wasn’t looking for something himself. I’m sure of that,” Heather concluded.
“But he didn’t even stay for the service.”
“Yeah, I’m still trying to figure that one out. I think all of the press scared him off, or possibly Papaw. The years may have passed for the two of them, but he’d be able to positively identify the security guy as my father,” Heather replied. “Besides, I’m convinced everything he said was an overt clue about what happened between he and Mom. I was grieving and didn’t realize they were clues until now.”
“That’s stretching a bit, don’t you think?”
“No, not really. Look,” she started to say. “Think about it. He left the Marines because of a woman. Pretty flimsy but it could’ve been Mom. Then he asked when and where I was born. That could mean he didn’t know about me. Then he gave me the clue to locate my original birth certificate. He even said I should try and find a death certificate for him. More clues.”
“They sound more like logical suggestions, sweetie. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up only to be disappointment again, that’s all.”
“I know, I know, but I think he’s alive. I know it in my heart.”
“Why do you believe so strongly that he is? Everyone keeps saying he’s dead. You yourself did a search for him and there were thousands of Josh Simmons’. How do you know you even found the right one to begin with?”
“I don’t know. I just do. Maybe it’s because when he was in the room, I’ve never felt safer in my life. I can’t explain it. He was checking rooms, windows, doors, all vantage points all the time. It wasn’t like he was jumpy or anything though. When we spoke, he looked as if he was observing and cataloging my features. Looking for any similarities or traits he might have given me. Then he hesitated when I asked to see pictures of his daughters. I swear, I thought I was staring at a photo of myself ten years ago.”
“But –,”
“And you just said it,” Heather continued as she cut Anna off before she could play the devil’s advocate again. “Everyone keeps saying he’s dead. Mom, Papaw, his wife, they all keep saying it. But when I told him everyone kept telling me that, he said if everyone keeps lying about this guy being dead, maybe he’s not.”
“That’s still not a lot to go on, Heather. I only want what’s best for you, you know that.”
“I know, but the clincher was that on two occasions during our conversation he mentioned that he didn’t know about me. I think he was trying to tell me something. I know it.”
Javy smiled a devilish smile from the other side of the door. And away we go.
* * *
Sam was going stir crazy. The FBI had kept her sequestered for months and still the hearings had not started. She was eager to testify so she could return to her routine and the company. She wanted her life back. The only positive she was able to cling to was the receipt of a letter from Josh. It was as unexpected as it was touching. She was gratified to read his remorse and that he was finally baring his soul. He did care about her.
Rejuvenated, she penned a reply and gave it to her handlers.
When the door opened and Elias walked in, she felt an even greater air of freedom.
“Elias?” she questioned. “I haven’t seen you since I left for Montana! Are the hearings starting?” she asked excitedly as she hugged the aging statesman.
“Almost,” he replied. “We’re getting closer every day.
“What are those idiots doing? Why don’t they start this thing so we can all get back to business?”
“I’ve just come from a meeting with the Congressional leadership. It looks like they’ve finally ironed out their procedural matters. They say it’ll be another week.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Samantha retorted unenthused as she sat back down. “You’d think pulling the two houses of Congress together would be fairly straight forward. They’re in the same damn building!” she concluded incredulously.
Elias shrugged and placed a canvas bag on the table.
“What’s this?” Sam asked.
The Secretary smiled and replied, “A gift from your jailers.”
Samantha opened the padded case to find a laptop and a phone. She was so excited she leapt from her seat and hugged Elias again.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she gushed excitedly. “How did you talk them into this?”
“Attorney Ryers has decided to relent on a few of his restrictions and allow you the use of a computer and a cell.” He then added, “However, there are some caveats.”
Sam cocked a wary eye at the Secretary.
“First,” Elias began, “You’re still dead, so no surfing the web. Second, absolutely no contact with anyone from Hyloset. Third, you are being provided these forms of communication solely to assist me from the shadows. No one knows where more bodies are buried than you when it comes to these bastards. I’d like your assistance in persuading the acting President of Hyloset to play ball. Ideas?”
“Several. What else?” she asked waiting for more.
Elias removed a vintage ration book from 1944 from his breast pocket and tossed it on the table.
“I need you to help me create a new one of these.”
Sam picked it up and leafed through its contents. “You honestly believe we need to implement this?”
“You haven’t seen what’s out there. There’s price gouging, rioting, and martial law around every corner. Robberies are numbering in the thousands and folks with less than desirable morals fired up the black market. The nation is quite literally freaking out.” Elias sighed and paused. “I’m afraid I grossly underestimated the patience of the American people, Sam,” the Secretary replied solemnly.
The pair spent the next days working none stop. Her first order of business was to pen an official statement for her stand-in at Hyloset to read at a press conference. Samantha pointed out that there was no way he wouldn’t know she was still alive after he and the board reviewed it. Elias simply replied that it couldn’t be helped.
After that, the next task was to generate a new and revised ration book. Rationing had not been utilized in the United States in over seventy-five years. When it became apparent that it was going to be warranted, Elias harkened back to the 1940’s and modeled the new ration books after the ones issued during WWII.
The pair reviewed the almost eighty year old document and quickly d
educed that there was no need to carry forward certain items. Therefore, rubber, clothing, and nylons were discontinued. However, sugar, meats, and cheeses were retained. When the two were discussing what to add to the books, they settled on anything needed to make a meal from scratch short of eggs and water. As a result, new entries included traditional baking ingredients, assorted powders and yeasts, and each of the previously dominant GMO fruit and vegetable varieties.
As they neared the conclusion of the exercise, Sam threw Elias a curve ball and presented some of Josh’s ideas.
The Secretary smiled and reached back toward his briefcase.
“I swear that man has too much time on his hands,” Elias replied as he turned back around holding a stack of letters addressed to “Bo Peep’ and signed ‘Mother Hubbard’.
The two compared notes based on Josh’s suggestions and began filling out the pages with growing, harvesting, and storage tips and information. Whatever couldn’t be added as instruction was included in Elias’ text for his next radio broadcast. Once complete, the ration book template was sent to massive government printing facilities.
While those were being printed, the Head of the USDA invited the Hyloset chairman to a meeting. Upon receiving the prepared statement from Elias, Sam’s interim replacement smirked while reading the words.
“Let me guess,” the man said, “she jumped.”
This guy knows her all too well.
Now fully aware of Samantha’s survival, the Hyloset board distanced itself from the other three GMO’s by calling a press conference. In the carefully worded announcement, he read from the release and divulged the company secret Sam had shared with Layla in the greenhouse.
As he stood in front of the camera’s, he said, “I have a prepared statement that I’d like to read pertaining to Secretary McInerney’s report. Once I have finished, I am prepared to answer any and all questions.
“First let me start off by saying that the dangers presented in the USDA disclosure regarding prolonged GMO consumption are based in fact. Hyloset’s founder, the late Peter Jameson, discovered this truth and tried unsuccessfully to bring this knowledge to light. However, before his untimely death, and as a testament to his character, all of Hyloset’s seed specific product lines were swapped out for heirloom and organic seeds beginning in June of 2015.”
The press members in attendance erupted with questions and camera flashes. Many scribbled furiously in their notepads as he spoke. Some tried in vain to contact their producers in an effort to cut over to a live feed.
“Please,” he said as he raised his hands to quiet the assembled gaggle. “Let me get through this and I promise to answer each and every question posed.”
The disjointed reporters eventually relented and allowed him to proceed.
“Thank you. As I was saying, all of Hyloset’s seeds were swapped out in June 2015. As a result of this knowledge, all produce growers and farmers that currently have contracts with Hyloset should begin planting without further delay.
“Additionally, financial records, meeting minutes, and emails are available for review, as well as our manufacturing and warehouse facilities. Furthermore, we will not hesitate to proudly offer any of our products for thorough testing and evaluation.
“I’ll now take questions.”
The man spent the next hour and a half answering and re-answering the barrage emanating from the attendees.
Once news of the seed swap made it to the airwaves, farmers hit the fields in droves. The movement on the farms provided a respite for the weary American scrapping by.
In his weekly national broadcast, the Secretary offered Josh’s condensed list of suggestions to the general public as solutions. Some were new revelations while others were re-statements of Elias’s previous broadcasts.
Elias stated, “Anyone residing in an urban environment should make use of the resources available to them. For example, plan and build rooftop gardens. Look at the landscaped terraces, trellises, and planters around your buildings. Utilize these structures and plant bounty there as well. To the City Managers, I say review your cityscape and identify unused or abandoned lots. Wherever possible, this valuable acreage should be turned, sectioned off, and associated to an address to aid your population. Residents with a plot assigned should form up with others to patrol the area morning, noon, and night against the three ‘V’s’, vandals, vagrants, and varmints.
“Those living in the suburbs need to rent sod cutters and tillers and turn their backyards into vegetable stands as well. As for the land owners in outlying areas, I ask that if you have the available acreage that you allow neighbors without the means the opportunity to plant on your property. To the farmers, and I know this is asking a lot given your current predicament, I am suggesting that you construct greenhouses utilizing hydroponics for year round use.”
The citizenry responded. Machinery was rented by the thousands. Neighbor began helping neighbor.
The ration books were printed, assembled, and distributed as fast as the machines and distribution apparatus could go. However, millions more were still needed across the country. The privatized system for distribution was already in place, but government involvement fouled what could have been a smooth delivery. Cities that were left wanting continued to experience prolonged rioting and looting.
The private sector, with Samantha whispering in Elias’ ear from the shadows, practically forced the bureaucracy to the sidelines and provided the much needed infrastructure for accounting and distribution. To aid in the disbursement of both the ration books and the seeds, the nation had been divided into eight sectors.
The segmentation of the country aided the firms and Rayburn’s administration in identifying areas in need for just about everything. The capitals of each served as the central hub for the routing and distribution of goods throughout the state. Each then reported up through an official charged with handling that particular sector.
Sam wasn’t a fan of all of the governmental oversight, but she had to take the good with the bad at this point.
* * *
The cell door unlocked with a clang and startled Josh. He had been awake in his bunk since 4:45 AM. Jail had relieved him of his usual morning routine so he was content to just lie there until the guards released the convicts for chow.
“Time to get up sleeping beauty,” the Sheriff said loudly.
“Jim!” Josh replied excitedly. “What are you doing here?”
“Today’s the big day so I thought I’d see you off personally,” his jailer answered.
Josh gratefully acknowledged the gesture, “That’s not really necessary, but thanks all the same.”
“Actually, it is. The mayor wants me to bring you over as soon as you’re processed,” he announced.
“Sweet,” the convict replied excitedly. “He got my message.”
“He sure did,” the man chuckled. “I don’t know what you said, but he’s got the mayors from a half dozen towns over there waiting for you.”
“How about the construction companies? Any of those guys get invited?” he asked as he dressed.
“Yup, there’s a few of them too. What are you up to?” the Sheriff intoned.
“Oh, just trying to be a good neighbor is all.”
While incarcerated, Josh had heard Elias’s radio broadcast espousing the need for root cellars and winter storage. As a result, he requested that a message be given to the Mayor in an attempt to solve this particular issue.
Josh was processed out of the Vinton County Jail efficiently and escorted across the street to the town hall. He and his friend entered a large conference room where several men in suits were reviewing wall-mounted maps.
“Mr. Simmons!” Mayor Cranston announced. “Thank you for coming. I know you’d like nothing more than to head home, see your girls, and check on the farm, but I thought, since you were in town we could meet now. Is that all right?”
“This is just fine. I was starting to wonder if you were going to even listen
to what I had to say in light of my more recent transgressions,” Josh answered.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” the mayor started. “Given everything I’ve been briefed on, that old boy deserved it. Taking a young woman hostage,” he concluded and then trailed off.
“Thank you,” Josh replied. “So what have you got so far?”
Mayor Cranston went around the room and introduced the assembled suits and businessmen from the area. In all, there were seven mayors and three representatives from construction companies. Handshakes and pleasantries were exchanged as Josh asked them to be seated while he pitched his idea.
“Here’s how I see it,” Josh began. “Vegetable producers heeded Secretary McInerney’s call to expand and invested heavily in their facilities in order to ramp up production. Many added multiple structures and quickly doubled and tripled the size of their operations.”
The mayor from Wellston chimed in and offered, “The summer’s going to prove to be a boom for contractors in our area. It’ like the 1950’s nuclear holocaust fears all over again. Except this time it’s for food shelters.”
“Exactly,” Josh answered. “I figure that those that can’t afford a cellar will do one of two things. They’ll either convert a corner of their existing basement into suitable storage or they’ll do nothing. However, we all know that the population of southeastern Ohio has long been the poster child for government assisted living. Many residents were already at or below the poverty line before all of this came to pass. President Sarkes’ initiative to get people out of entitlement programs like food stamps, welfare, and unemployment compensation turned a borderline lower class area economically into a ‘Hooverville’ almost overnight.
“When the announcement from the USDA stated that residents should store enough to survive the winter, I know many of them were left wondering what to do,” Josh concluded.
“And you have a plan to solve this?” Mayor Cranston asked and then sighed. “I like your idealism, Josh, I really do, but I talk to the people of this town every day. Some assume that the grocery stores can provide. Most think that because they have a ration book there’s going to be plenty, so why bother.”
When Rome Stumbles Page 25
