by D. I. Telbat
Morris clenched his teeth. Three weeks? He'd never reach Seattle by the New Year at this rate!
"Very well. Their attempt to stop us will only add to their own suffering when we roll onto their streets. Tell the engineers to have everything ready on the river bank the instant the barges arrive."
The messenger saluted and pedaled away.
The men who left for wood returned instead with old truck tires.
"We're low on wood, sir," they reported. "But these will burn with a little help."
"Do it."
Morris stepped back and watched as Sergeant Landis was forced to his feet. Five truck tires were shoved over his head, one on top of the other, stacking up to his mid-torso. A soldier squirted kerosene over the tires. Another with a lighter stepped forward and looked to Commander Morris.
When he looked into the faces of his followers, Morris was filled with pride, and they seemed to be proud as well. Yes, discipline had brought them together before, like in Ohio. This was the new face of America—zeal for liberty—especially when that liberty was defended to the death. In Ohio, they had burned dozens at the stake, almost all of them Christians who insisted on their way being the only way. Sergeant Landis was one of their own, but they were still willing to administer punishment. No one had stepped up to defend the sergeant, because they all knew better. They wanted to please their commander, and they wanted to see their nation restored.
When his troops were finished scouring the nation in a couple years, they would be received as heroes by every city that endured. These were the liberators of an antiquated America. By the look on their faces at this moment, they foresaw the glory of their goal as well.
But then Morris noticed Sergeant Landis' face. It was peaceful, even upward gazing. He wasn't responding with threats from his God or cursing those about to execute him. In fact, his lips moved as he stared up at the sky, as if praying! All the pride Morris felt from the hundreds of admiring soldiers was ruined by Landis' single face of contentment. The traitor seemed almost willing to die for his God! It was this insanity Morris was determined to stomp out of America. Or burn it out, as often as necessary.
"Light it!" he ordered.
As the flames grew, someone threw the discarded Bible into the heat. In a year, Morris guessed Christianity would be merely a vague memory in America. After all, it had been dying off steadily for decades.
At other burnings, his soldiers had cheered in victory. Each fire had been a flame representing the new heart of a unified America. But that day, no one cheered. Everyone had seen the face of this Christian, who didn't scream at all. He simply expired in silence.
Morris turned and walked away. There would be other Christians and more Bibles. He would burn them all, in every town, as often as he crossed them!
Returning to his trailer, Morris lay on his portable bed and stared at the ceiling. Something terrible plagued his mind. Logically, killing the Christian was the right thing to do. It made sense. The troops seemed behind it, but he knew that region had a history of avoiding violence when given the choice. If he wasn't careful, he'd create martyrs. What he needed were small towns of people who stood with him, who would cleanse their own counties of anti-conformists. Only then could he step in front of the liberating force of his dreams, as the people themselves took the lead in discipline. That would require him leaving some powers in the hands of towns that pledged their loyalties.
Using his handheld radio, he called a messenger and shared his thoughts to pass on to the intelligence officers.
"We have to use the people, or we will fail," Morris relayed. "If we are seen only as conquerors, we will fail. The Northwest isn't densely populated, so we can very easily become burdened with squabbles."
"No one will stand against us, sir," the messenger stated.
"Not true. Ahead, in Wyoming and Montana, we'll be facing communities all spread out, many of them armed, and not many towns. One community that doesn't submit to the liberation could derail our advance. Maybe even by one man."
"One man, sir? One man can't disrupt this beast. Thousands have already fallen to our mission. One man can't defeat hundreds of guns."
"Ah, but he can. He may even be out there right now." Morris held up his finger. "One man. Do you know why?"
"Why?"
"Because guns and bullets and tanks and grenades can't destroy an idea." Even as Morris said it, he knew he didn't have the answer for Jesus Christ, except to keep putting away His stubborn followers. "And it only takes one man to reignite an idea."
"No one is that bold, sir. Or that invincible."
"Listen to me, you fool!" Morris saw the messenger withdraw in fear on his seat. "It's not the man we need to fear. It's the idea! Of course, men aren't invincible, but an idea is. We have to destroy it before it spreads."
"Forgive me, sir, but let me ask you how will we do that? I'll need to tell the captains of the forward units."
"How?" Morris exhaled slowly. "Yes. That is the question. When we come to a town that wants to work with us, we'll embrace them, even if we still question their loyalties. Only then, by holding them closely, will we discern their intentions. If they are contrary, then we strike quickly and silently. We have to erase the idea from the people before it can spread."
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not following. What exactly is the idea we're so concerned about?"
"Oh, never mind. I'll speak directly to the intelligence officers myself. And the radio operators. Never before have we needed to advance with more caution. We're far from Atlanta. One mistake, and we could get stuck in the Rocky Mountains."
"Sir, I just don't understand. We always destroy our enemies—anyone who's against your vision of America. How is what you're proposing any different?"
"This isn't about America." Morris dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand. "Leave me. I need to think more on this. And speak to no one about what we've talked about."
"I . . . wouldn't think of it, sir."
The messenger left, and Morris looked at a map of the United States that he'd taped to his trailer wall. He wished he would've thought of the possibility of making martyrs long before that day. If his greatest fears were real, then he'd already ignited a simmering revolt. And if he hadn't, then it was a threat for tomorrow, or the next day. He may have even done it that day, by killing Sergeant Landis. Faith and beliefs and gods were beyond him. If he wasn't careful, the imaginations of America's devoted would bring his own vision to ruin.
End of STEADFAST Book One BONUS CHAPTER
*~*
Find direct links to
STEADFAST Book Two:
https://ditelbat.com/book/steadfast-book-two/
