Renegade - 13

by Joe Nobody

  The schedule was grueling, the constant travel, meetings, arrangements, and need to paint a permanent smile on her face adding to the exhaustion. Diana’s convoy had visited 18 towns in four days? Or was it 19? Terri couldn’t remember.

  Cradling a steaming cup of passionflower tea in her palm, Terri stealthily tiptoed over everything from campaign flyers to infrastructure reports in her quest for the front of the bus-like camper, having already discovered that the driver’s seat was the most comfortable aboard.

  For nearly 20 minutes, she enjoyed her solitude in the lap of leather luxury, sipping the mug while contemplating her schedule. The fragrant brew, worn blue jeans, and cushy shoes made invaluable contributions to the serene environment.

  She wondered what Bishop was doing at that moment, then weighed the wisdom of starting two new careers at the same time. She would see him tomorrow. They would spend some time together as a family, and with any luck, enjoy a bit of privacy as well. After all, he was now a wealthy executive and desirable man about town. And Pete does have a way of attracting the doe-eyed, shapely applicants to his establishments, Terri mused.

  That line of reasoning brought a badly-needed chuckle to her throat. Bishop would not stray, and that thought somehow made her feel better than the cozy clothes and hot tea combined. They shared unconditional love, and she was confident those mutual emotions were stronger now than ever. “If you can survive an apocalypse together, there’s probably a good chance your marriage is solid,” she breathed.

  Gazing out the windshield, Terri first focused on the security man patrolling the area. While the presence of Diana’s bodyguards was comforting, it did nothing to enhance her brief escape.

  She then glanced skyward and inhaled sharply. The night sky was bursting with a magnificent star field, so bright and thick it was almost as if she were traveling through space. “Now that’s more like it,” she sighed contentedly. “Although it sure would be better if Bishop were helping me find the Big Dipper right about now.”

  With her mind gradually shifting out of the fast lane, Terri’s gaze then glided to the stereo system mounted in the dash. “Some music would be perfect,” she whispered, reaching for the power button. Diana was conducting an interview two coaches over. The candidate’s convoy of RVs and security was in Odessa … or was it Midland Station?

  She worked the radio’s buttons, seeking up and down the FM dial. Despite being in the middle of Texas, she couldn’t find a single station.

  Switching to AM, she perked up when the scrolling blue digits stopped their scan. There were voices drifting through the speakers. Life, outside of the aluminum skinned spaceships, existed in the universe beyond!

  Her excitement quickly wavered, the broadcast ending her mental journey square in the middle of the election. The only radio station still transmitting was a news channel. They were playing a pre-recorded interview with Diana’s chief rival, Cyrus P. Young. “So much for avoiding reality,” she whispered.

  Shrugging, she turned up the volume and sat back to listen in on the competitor’s fantasy and fiction.

  “Diana Brown’s vision of the future is stale and primitive,” Cyrus touted. “She looks at the Alliance through the narrow prism of rural West Texas, and her policies reflect that perspective. My platform, in contrast, seeks to serve not only our nation’s quaint communities, but our metropolitan areas as well. She’s a country girl with no clue about the problems facing the vast majority of our citizens. She can’t relate to what our cities have to endure.”

  “Can you give me an example?” the announcer asked.

  “Sure,” replied the politician in a smooth voice. “Recent events at the Plantation in Mexico are a prime example of her botched policies. Alliance blood and treasure liberated that facility. Our tax dollars and assets were consumed during that operation. We lost the precious lives of two residents from my home region of Dallas alone. And what did we do afterward? We turned it over to people who have no loyalty to Texas. We handed the reins over to a group who has zero management experience and whose interests are not aligned with our own. This is ludicrous! The entire maneuver was a preposterous waste of our resources. If I had been president, we would have maintained control over that operation and assisted the former slaves in their own recovery while at the same time ensuring a badly needed source of agricultural production.”

  “Some people would argue that the Alliance had no business in Mexico at all. I’m sure Miss Brown’s camp would justify that excursion on the grounds of international relations and the fact that Alliance citizens were imprisoned at that facility,” the newscaster countered.

  “Didn’t we learn anything from recent wars? Are the lessons from Iraq and Afghanistan completely lost to Miss Brown and her administration? Nation building doesn’t work. International borders, since the collapse, mean nothing. The Alliance should have annexed and maintained control of the Plantation. That simple step would have ensured our people enough to eat for the foreseeable future. Instead, we are now going to pay double for whatever we import. That is the consequence of negotiating from a position of weakness.”

  Terri was growing livid at the words streaming through the coach’s speakers, her grip tightening on her cup of tea. “You don’t know shit,” she spat at the radio. “I was there, you little bitch. I saw the complexities of the situation, felt the pressure of resolving the quandary under the gun. Here you sit like an armchair quarterback, questioning a solution to an impromptu threat to the survival of the Alliance. My husband and I put our lives on the line while you were sipping your cognac in your Dallas office suite.”

  Governor Young continued to pour it on, “Let me give you another example. Have you ever wondered why is our capital still located in Alpha, Texas? Sure, it’s a dandy little town, very charming … nice and quiet … a peaceful place by all accounts. Yet, it is isolated, difficult to visit, and far, far away from the population centers that badly need their government to see, experience, and understand their issues. In my opinion, Miss Brown and her staff maintain the seat of our government there to limit interaction with their constituents. I believe they deliberately remain aloof and unattached to the rest of Texas, so they don’t have to deal with the real problems facing our people. What kind of government is that? You can’t govern by the people and for the people, if you’re not with the people!”

  “Here’s the bottom line,” continued Diana’s nemesis. “The voters fortunately have a clear and stark contrast in this election. On the one hand, they can support Miss Brown and her policies that exclusively benefit rural Texans. On the other hand, my administration and I will first focus on the major urban areas. I will use the Alliance’s resources to rebuild Dallas, Houston, El Paso, Austin, and San Antonio. Urban prosperity will raise the level of civilization throughout the Alliance, benefiting all her citizens. The two thousand people living in Meraton aren’t going to pull millions of citizens out of the abyss. Three million manufacturing jobs aren’t going to be recreated in Alpha, Texas. Fort Davidson isn’t going to employ the millions who badly need high paying jobs. If Texas is going to continue to recover and eventually thrive, we must invest in the major cities. I understand this. I am the right candidate to accomplish those goals.”

  Terri couldn’t take it anymore, her finger nearly breaking the radio as it poked the power button. “My ass,” she growled at the now-dark dial. “You are as full of shit as a Christmas goose!”

  Forcing herself to settle down, Terri’s anger soon faded, replaced by cool reasoning and grounded intellect. Deep down, she knew Cyrus’s message would resonate with some percentage of the voters. Diana’s policies, along with the council, had not always benefited the larger metropolitan areas as much as the regional governors had wanted.

  Even more to the point, Terri knew good and well that Cyrus’s rant was actually a pretty accurate summation of how the election was taking shape. Diana was carrying the countryside by wide margins; Cyrus was stronger in the cities. Given a great lack
of census data since the collapse, no one knew exactly where of most the population lived.

  Glaring at the radio as if it were Diana’s opponent, Terri hissed, “That’s okay, Cyrus P. Young. We’re bringing our message directly into your stronghold. We’ll see you in Dallas soon.”

  A commotion outside distracted her, the appearance of several security types announcing either trouble or the fact that Diana had finished her interview. Terri exhaled when a gentle rap and the boss’s soft greeting sounded at the door. “You still up?”

  Terri answered, motioning her best friend inside with a sweep of her arm. “How did it go?”

  Diana didn’t answer for a second, moving directly to the couch and flopping down as if she’d just run a marathon. “Not as well as I would have liked.”

  “Why?” Terri asked, sure she had prepared her candidate for every potential question. “What crazy angle is the press hounding now?”

  Waving her hand through the air, Diana said, “No, it wasn’t that. In fact, the reporter was very even-handed with his questions. It was after the interview was over, when we were off the record, that I got blindsided.”

  “Oh? What happened?”

  Exhaling a deep sigh, Diana responded, “Basically, I was informed that despite my record, prior performance, and excellent message, the local newspaper would be endorsing Cyrus.”

  “What! How could they do that? The rally this afternoon … your rally … it had thousands of people cheering like crazy. Our surveys say you’re leading by six out of ten voters in this county,” Terri countered. “How can the paper support a guy who hasn’t even visited the area?”

  “He said that Cyrus was running about $10,000 worth of ads per week in the paper,” Diana responded with a deadpan expression. “The reporter didn’t come right out and acknowledge any political tricks, but he did let me know that our opponent is buying the editor’s support.”

  Stunned, Terri sat beside her friend, both of them feeling the weight of exhaustion. “Where in the hell is Cyrus getting all of this money?” Diana asked. “He is spending at least ten times what we are. I thought our campaign contributions were more than adequate. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “I don’t know,” Terri responded, already reviewing their budget in her head. “He must have some printing presses hidden up in Dallas.”

  “Or some friends with very deep pockets.”

  “No one in the Alliance has pockets that deep,” Terri said, shaking her head.

  Diana rose, stretching the stiffness of stress from her shoulders. “I’m going back to my coach and turn in. We’ve got another busy one tomorrow, so you get some sleep as well – okay?”

  Nodding, Terri added, “and I get to see Bishop tomorrow. A bonus!”

  Grinning, Diana teased, “You should use your charms to solicit a contribution. I hear he’s rolling in it these days.”

  Shooing her friend out the door, Terri said, “I’ll see what I can do. Did you bring any low-cut little dresses along? That might help our cause.”

  They both shared a good laugh, and then Diana was gone, surrounded by her security team as she faded into the night.

  To describe Bishop’s mood as foul would have been an understatement. Neither Hunter’s smiling face, nor Terri’s provocative blouse did little to improve the Texan’s mood.

  Instead of the casual, family excursion touring the picturesque surroundings of the Hill Country, the couple had spent the first half of their day attending funerals.

  “I ordered those men to their deaths,” Bishop mumbled after the fourth casket had been lowered into the ground.

  “They were just doing their jobs,” Terri had tried to counter. “They knew the risks when Pete hired them. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

  Softly sighing, his response had said it all. “I knew something was wrong. We could have kept the money inside the building … taken it to the bank later. My bad judgement resulted in three widows and five kids who will grow up without their fathers.”

  Terri knew her husband all too well. He had never shied away from responsibility, which made her love him all the more. That trait, however, was a two-edged sword that could cut him to the core when things went wrong. “You make a living with a gun, my love. You cannot measure your effectiveness by the number that have died. You have to focus on how many lives you have saved. Collateral damage is inevitable in your work.”

  “This just feels so different,” he confessed. “Before, when I lost friends and comrades, it was to survive, or for the cause of a greater good like the Alliance. Now, working in the private sector, these men’s’ lives seemed so … so expendable. My comrades died for no cause other than money. A bunch of green ink on cloth and paper. I don’t think those four men we just laid to rest would think the cost was worth it.”

  “What about when you worked for HBR? You all put your necks on the line for money then, didn’t you?”

  “I suppose,” he admitted. “Still, HBR was trying to build something … make lives better. Gas and oil are important to a civilized society. It felt more like a legitimate sacrifice. On the other hand, maybe I’m just older and softer now. Perhaps, I’ve mellowed in my old age. Whatever the reason, losing those guys hurts.”

  She hugged him, pulling him close. “You’re a human being, Bishop. If you didn’t hurt, I’d be really, really worried about you.”

  After a heartbreaking round of hugs, condolences to grieving family members, and promises to find the cowards responsible for murdering their loved ones, the couple had retired to change clothes and make the best of what remained of the day.

  “You can’t bring them back,” Terri had reminded. “Enjoy your family. You’ve earned a little personal time, and frankly, my love, you need the break.”

  “I promise,” he nodded, trying to pull himself out of his mental funk.

  Diana’s campaign tour, along with Bishop’s new responsibilities, had resulted in Bandera, Texas hosting their rendezvous. It had been years since the couple had visited the area.

  Situated in the Texas Hill Country, Bandera promoted itself as being the “Cowboy Capital,” of the world. The quaint community was surrounded by dozens of large, prosperous ranches. Rodeos, horse shows, and western-sized cookouts were common weekend events year-round.

  The charming berg, home to less than 1,000 friendly souls, was a popular destination for bikers and families alike. The surrounding countryside provided a great environment for a ride or a quick day trip for those wanting to escape the hustle and bustle of San Antonio or Austin.

  Even before the collapse, it was common to spot horses tied up next to commuter sedans and touring Harley Davidson motorcycles. Street-side hitching posts, common along the old-world business district, demanded that pedestrians watched where they stepped. On hot summer nights, the local Dairy Queen was the place to be.

  Bishop and Terri, while living in Houston, had fallen in love with the tiny town for a completely different reason – the Medina River.

  It wasn’t much of a waterway, even by Central Texas standards. At its widest spot, a man could easily chuck a rock from one bank to the other. Boasting neither splendid waterfalls nor rushing whitewater, the Medina didn’t attract droves of sportsmen or thrill seekers.

  What the lazy river did provide, however, was one of the most relaxing, scenic vistas in all of Texas. One of the best sections, in Bishop’s opinion, meandered right through Bandera City Park.

  Huge cypress trees lined the banks, their canopies creating a tunnel of green over the crystal-clear water. During the sweltering summer months, this naturally air-conditioned corridor was the perfect locale to pack a picnic, throw on a pair of cut-off shorts, and spend the day tubing and nibbling on barbecue. The Medina offered the epitome of a laid-back, off the grid, unplugged from technology lifestyle; and pre-apocalyptic visitors flocked to her spiritually healing waters. Massive root systems and primordial trunks created natural steps and cozy seating right at the water’s edge. Tourists could
either swim, dive, or lean back and read a book with their feet dangling in the cool stream.

  For generations, local youths had constructed makeshift ladders and handholds in order to climb high into the trees that had flanked the shore since the days when God was a boy. Once aloft, ropes were secured to the sturdy branches so teenage showoffs could swing from the heavens and drop like high divers into the river below. Back in the day, Bishop himself had scaled the heights and sailed through the air like Tarzan, all to impress his new bride. Terri had hooted, hollered, and cheered like an impressionable schoolgirl as her husband splashed into the depths.

  With Hunter’s car seat secured in the back of Bishop’s pickup, the couple rolled into Bandera, pointing here and there, recalling old memories from previous visits. They were both thankful to see that little had changed.

  Terri couldn’t help herself, focusing on the front yards displaying campaign signs advertising “Diana Brown For President,” in vivid red, white, and blue. Seeing the support for her friend seemed to brighten her smile and elevate her mood.