The Alpha Chronicles

by Joe Nobody

  Lyndon had been born nine months later.

  “Dad, that tie-rod isn’t going to fit. I guess we’re down to a single truck until we can find a 2004 Ford V8 lying around somewhere.”

  T-Bone shook his head, “Tell the boys to keep a look out for another vehicle to salvage. Given how strong business has been of late, we need something a little bigger anyway.”

  Lyndon grinned at his father’s phrasing, knowing all too well that “salvage” meant steal or loot. He wasn’t embarrassed or surprised – the Belou clan had crossed the ethical line to do what it took to get by, even if it meant bending a law or two to put food on the table.

  Sauntering up to the porch, Lyndon eyed his father with a certain amount of pride. The man had worked his way out of the hopeless cycle of poverty that had plagued their family for generations. Despite having to fight for every inch of ground, Teddy Belou had never been bitter, never given any indication of quitting - even when he was unjustly sentenced to two years in prison. That actually motivated him, thought Lyndon. That’s when he started living as if it was every man for himself.

  The story had been told a hundred times. T-Bone being asked to remove equipment that seemed in better condition than most of his loads…the Sheriff pulling into the bone yard a week later…T-Bone being handcuffed and hauled off to jail.

  As it turned out, the oil company had asked T-Bone to haul off that nice looking machinery because they were desperate for money and reported it stolen in order to collect the insurance. Both T-Bone and the rig’s manager claimed they were innocent. In the end, the district attorney convinced the jury that both men had conspired in the scandal and both were sentenced to two years at Huntsville.

  Lyndon had been nine years old when the police had taken away his father. He already had three younger brothers, and his mother struggled desperately to make ends meet.

  T-Bone returned from Huntsville a changed man. Aggression replaced a laid back, mellow demeanor; a drive to dominate superseded his sense of fairness. Before his internment, T-Bone believed the best business arrangements were those that benefited both parties. Afterwards, he wasn’t satisfied unless he screwed the other guy. The business suffered, but he didn’t seem to care. The only people who weren’t targets of T-Bone’s new assertiveness were his wife and children. To hell with everyone else.

  T-Bone scowled at his first-born and scratched his stubble. “We’ve got to acquire something bigger, Lyndon. Our customer is demanding more and more merchandise, and we both know what will happen if we can’t deliver. This bullshit of a pickup load here and there isn’t going to cut it. We need a truck of some sort – something big and heavy that will haul a lot of weight.”

  Lyndon tilted his head, his face brightening after a moment of thought. “I think I know exactly where to find just the truck, dad.”

  Alpha, Texas

  January 17, 2016

  Diana shifted her weight, the motion eliciting a loud squeak from the folding metal chair. She was thankful no one could hear the seat’s outburst, a fringe benefit of the musicians playing nearby. A brass band, she thought, who would have thought we’d ever have the time or a cause for a band?

  She exchanged glances with Nick, who made brief eye contact and winked before turning his attention back to the musicians. A reasonable rendition of John Philip Sousa’s The Thunderer rolled across the lawn to the delight of the gathered citizens of Alpha, the throng of election-eve voters practically filling the city park.

  While Nick tapped his toe to the march, Diana’s attention wandered through the crowd. She was reminded of old black and white photographs depicting elections from long ago. While she couldn’t remember any details of the time or place, the grainy pictures reflected a carnival-like atmosphere – a gala event. Alpha, Texas was experiencing its own version of those times – practically the whole community was on or near Main Street - reclining on blankets or lawn chairs and otherwise perching wherever else they could improvise a seat along the strip. There were even three sets of legs swinging happily beneath a low branch belonging to one of the park’s large elms.

  Food vendors, balloons, and even a man offering pony rides for the children bordered the throng. It was almost as if everyone was looking for an excuse to get together and have a celebration. Now where on earth did someone find helium to inflate balloons? The deacon wondered.

  The band finished its patriotic refrain, and immediately the master of ceremonies strode to the podium, glancing at his notes in preparation of introducing the next candidate after the applause died down. Leaning toward Nick’s ear, Diana whispered, “This reminds me of the old West and how elections were a big party back then.”

  Nick smiled and nodded, whispering back, “You’re right. Hey, but didn’t they do the same thing for hangings?”

  Diana rolled her eyes and then returned her attention to the platform.

  “Citizens of Alpha, Texas, before I introduce the last candidate of the evening, I feel obliged to say a few words. There isn’t a resident of our town who doesn’t owe this woman a deep debt of gratitude. Were it not for her, every single one of us might be living under the tyrannical rule of outlaws and criminals. Were it not for her, many of us would have perished from lack of food or water. Regardless of the outcome of this monumental election, I believe I speak for everyone present as I express my sincere gratitude to Deacon Diana Brown!”

  Thunderous applause and shouted encouragement erupted from the park as every citizen stood and clapped, whistled, and nodded toward the stage. Diana flushed immediately, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of crimson as she sensed Nick standing and clapping beside her. The outburst was so unexpected, Diana could only smile, nod, and mouth the words “Thank you,” as she surveyed the supportive faces of her friends and neighbors.

  After what seemed an embarrassingly long time, the speaker continued. “As all of you know, Diana has sacrificed so very much for our town. She has shouldered every burden, made the difficult decisions, and demonstrated sage leadership during these troubling times. She organized our people when disaster left nothing but a stunned, directionless humanity. She united us when our freedom was threatened. Her courage enabled Christians to fight, and her wisdom brought combatants to Christ. I speak purely from the deepest core of my heart when I say, ‘Thank you, Miss Brown. Thank you for all you’ve done.’”

  Again, the crowd rose to its feet, shouts of encouragement piercing the din of clapping hands. The man at the podium waited a short period and then quieted the crowd by raising both hands. As the applause began to settle, Nick bent down and whispered, “So much for getting to see a lynching tonight.”

  “Without further ado… ladies and gentlemen… may I present the candidate for mayor, Deacon… Diana... Brown!”

  Taking short steps on somewhat wobbly legs, Diana managed to stroll across the stage without stumbling. She was somewhat relieved when she reached the lectern, the wooden stand representing a protective shield from the raw emotion emanating from the crowd.

  Nodding, smiling, and unfolding her prepared remarks, the reserved speaker kept repeating, “Thank you, thank you so much, thank you,” as the ovation continued.

  “Citizens of Alpha,” she began. “I have a few, very simple goals should you see fit to elect me as the next mayor of our wonderful town. First and foremost, I want to establish security. History has taught us that without rule of law, nothing will get accomplished and recovery will be stunted. Storekeepers won’t trade if they're being robbed. Farmers won’t plant if the harvest is looted. We have only to look back at our own history of a few months ago to know that fear grinds civilization to a halt. As a society, we cannot better ourselves if we are threatened every single day of our lives.”

  Pausing briefly, she waited until the sounds of agreement and support died down before continuing.

  “My second priority is to configure our government in a way that enables every citizen of Alpha to become self-sufficient. I will establish adult education
that addresses the critical ability to produce food. It is beyond the reach of our government to feed the people. My philosophy will be to train fishermen, not deliver fish.”

  Again, the crowd signaled its approval with nodding heads and clapping hands.

  “Finally, I want to proclaim our future government’s position regarding assistance. We, as a community, will be measured by how we treat the most desperate of our citizens. We, as a society, will be morally graded on the quality of life of the least fortunate of our people, not the most affluent. A focus of my governance will be to enable our churches, private organizations, and charitable individuals to be the first responders for the desperate and downtrodden. I’ll allow no citizen of Alpha to starve. I’ll not deny basic necessities to any law-abiding individual, but I will only deliver those resources as a last resort. My intent is to set our fledgling democracy on a path that enables self-reliance, not dependence or entitlement.”

  Diana chanced a quick glance at Nick while waiting for the crowd to settle, her friend flashing a quick thumbs-up signal for support.

  “As you all know, there is a practically endless list of projects, tasks, and priorities for our community. Some of these worthy endeavors can only be accomplished with the backing and management of government. Reopening the schools is one such example, the repair and availability of a fire department is another. These civic uses of our limited resources will benefit all of us, and that’s what I want to achieve. If we all pull together, my office will be able to focus on organizing and prioritizing improvements that will ensure all of our lives continue to improve!”

  The noise from the crowd grew, Diana stepping back and waving her appreciation. On her way back to Nick’s side, she tried to make eye contact with as many folks as possible all the while again repeating “Thank you,” to the supportive throng.

  The presentation part of the agenda complete, Nick and Diana made their way from the stage and began mingling with friends and neighbors. They sampled food, shook hands with dozens of people, and generally enjoyed the spirit flowing through the crowd.

  Kevin approached his dad, the surrounding excitement contagious. “Dad, I have never seen anything like this. The enthusiasm here is electric. Everyone seems to approve of what Diana has already done for the community. So why did Diana speak to the crowd like that? She seems to have this election in the bag. I mean, I didn’t think anyone else was even running for the mayor spot anyway.”

  “She doesn’t want it to appear like she’s taking it for granted. And she doesn’t just want to run on her history, she wants to unveil her vision for the future.”

  “So she can lose?”

  “No, I don’t think so. She’s running unopposed. I guess someone could write in another person’s name, but that’s unlikely.”

  Kevin was puzzled by his father’s answer, but decided not to pursue it further. Nick looked down at his son’s confused expression and said, “Don’t worry about it, buddy. I’ve been studying elections since I was your age, and I never have figured it all out. Politics is a really weird business. You and I will stick to honor, integrity, and living a simple, happy life. We can leave all the complex stuff to other people.”

  Brightening, Kevin asked, “That sounds like a plan, Dad. Hey, how about we work in some trigger time once I’m healed?”

  Nick tousled his son’s hair, “That’s my boy.”

  A line of people snaked down the courthouse steps, the generally upbeat crowd utilizing the time to gossip, solicit for favorite candidates, and exchange a few words with neighbors. The ballots were much less complicated than those of recent years, consisting of a single sheet of paper copied on one of the machines in the former clerk’s office.

  Someone had taken a series of shoeboxes and cut slits in the top. Each voter was issued a pencil, had his or her name checked from a list, and then was escorted to the “booth,” which was essentially sheets of dark blue plastic hanging from the ceiling to provide privacy. Once the voter’s selections were made, the secret ballot was folded, deposited into one of the boxes, and the voter’s hand was stamped.

  The election process didn’t have anything to do with the queue inching along. That minor inconvenience was prompted by the friendly banter and casual conversation taking place at the registration tables. Clearly, this election was the social event of the season in Alpha, fostering a sense of community that had not been on the agenda in years. It seemed every voter knew every election worker and wanted to catch up on the latest about kids, family, and local news. And for the few new settlers in the village, there might as well have been a welcome wagon pulled in front of the courthouse. The scene looked more like a block party than a polling station.

  The rules had stated that anyone in line by 12 noon could vote. Nick looked at his watch and realized it was quickly approaching that time. He motioned for one of his security helpers to follow and then assigned the man to close the end of the line.

  “What should I do if any stragglers show up?”

  After thinking about it for a bit, Nick answered. “Look at your watch, smile, and say, ‘I think my watch is fast. Go ahead and get in line.’”

  “So there really is no deadline?”

  “Nope. I don’t want a single person to miss a chance to vote. It’s the way we do things. I’ll stop back by around 1:00 and see if folks are still drifting in.”

  “Bring me back a jar of water on your way, if you think of it. It’s starting to warm up.”

  Terri fumbled with the lace of Bishop’s boot and lost her balance. Bishop’s right hand shot out and grabbed her shirt, gently tugging until she had steadied herself.

  “Aren’t we just the pair,” she giggled, returning to her task. “Between my baby-tummy and your bum side, we could be the stars of a situational comedy. Better alert Hollywood.”

  Bishop smiled, “We are pitiful. Thank goodness you’re not really, really pregnant yet, or we would really be in trouble.”

  The boot tied and Bishop’s pullover shirt adjusted, the couple left the hospital room and ventured outside. It was Bishop’s fourth day of walking, the confines of his floor and then the complete hospital building having already been explored on previous tours.

  “Where to?” Terri inquired, hoping to see something different today.

  “Let’s head for the parade ground over by our old quarters. That’s a nice grassy area.”

  “That’s a great idea. I like the softer ground – it’s easier on my back.”

  As the couple meandered along, Bishop looked down at his bride and commented, “Terri, I woke up married to a different woman. I want you to know I love this new gal just as much as the old one.”

  Frowning, Terri asked, “What do you mean by a different woman? Let me get my rifle before you answer that, mister.”

  “Seriously, you’ve changed. Before I was shot, you could care less about politics, leadership, and government. Now, that’s all you want to talk about. I can’t remember your even being interested in the evening news before. Now all our conversations inevitably take a political turn.”

  To emphasize his point, Bishop pointed to the book Terri carried in her hand. “’The Rise and Fall of Modern Empires.’ Really? That’s some heavy stuff.”

  Waving him off, she dismissed his observation, “Oh, the Colonel brought that over for me. He and I talked a few times while you were off in la-la-land. He’s quite the fascinating man.”

  Bishop stopped mid-stride, facing her with a smirk. “Now I know I’m in trouble. You’ve been talking politics with the Colonel?”

  Terri laughed, tugging his arm to continue their stroll. “You know I’m doing this just to understand, don’t you? I need to make sense of why Wayne and Senator Moreland acted the way they did. I need to have an understanding of what prompted all that happened.”

  Bishop’s voice was serious when he responded. “The man who kidnapped you did what he did out of a lust for power. I don’t think it’s any more complex than that.”

/>   “But what motivates that thinking, and how do we avoid it? How do we keep from repeating the same mistakes again and again?”

  Bishop made a pistol out of his good hand and fired a pretend round in the air. “Revolution is the only cure I know of.”

  “Revolution isn’t a cure; it’s a reset,” Terri retorted. “If you follow the Colonel’s logic, revolution only makes the societal pie a bit smaller, and thus the hunger for power is downsized to match the size of the pie.”

  Half playing, half-serious, Bishop snorted, “Still – the job gets done.”

  “And a lot of people die. And a lot of destruction takes place.”

  “I’m not a radical, Terri. You know that. Even when things were at their worse, you didn’t see me spouting off about armed revolt. Still, my experience has been that once men taste that ultimate power, you’ll not stop them, short of forcefully taking it away.”

  The couple continued walking, Terri musing over Bishop’s point of view. Finally, she offered, “The Colonel believes you can only control the problem by limiting the size of any single man’s influence. He said that’s why state’s rights were such an important part of the founding father’s thinking.

  Bishop paused, his gaze intense. “Well, I’m certainly not as educated as the Colonel. I don’t have the benefit of formal teachings or scholarly influences, but I can tell you one thing that is fact. Power… corruptive power… requires an enemy. For it to feed freely and proliferate unchecked, there must be some overt threat. Power bathes gloriously in the limelight of fear.”