Arks of America

by D A Carey

  “It doesn’t sound like they wanted to do much with it.”

  “That’s the thing,” Vince said. “Right now, Dave is hell-bent on developing that piece and doing it fast. He’s pressing me hard to join his company.”

  “You mean he is going to break his word and tear it all down?” Greg asked with alarm.

  “No, he’s going to develop a small part of it. He wants it to fit in and be contained in a limited area. The plan is to keep the orchards, crops, and restaurant intact. He says if I join, I can help assure it all comes out right.”

  “So are you going to?” Greg asked.

  “Honestly, I like my regular job and the pride I get from making it on my own and doing it well. I do love what he has planned there, though, and want to be a part of it. I told him I’d join part time. He agreed but told me that sometime, I’d have a decision to make. I know that day’s coming. They’ve already started with the building project, and they know what they want and how to get it done quickly.”

  “On another note, Vince,” Greg said, ready to change the subject. “You were in the Army. Do you think we could go to war with Russia?”

  “Ha, that’s a big subject change! Why do you ask that?”

  “I was listening to the radio on the way over here. They were going on about Russian fighters in U.S. airspace. U.S. and Russian fighters have faced off over Alaskan airspace several times this month. They said that while Russian incursions into U.S. airspace aren’t unusual, the frequency and depth of those incursions lately is concerning. I don’t know if the Russians are just testing U.S. defenses or if these incursions are only mistakes. They said this increases tensions between our two countries when viewed through the lens of Russia’s history of aggressive moves in the Ukraine and other places.”

  “Based on my training, I suspect the Russians are doing two things. First, they’re testing our reaction time to see how far they can get into our country and how aggressively we respond. Secondly, they are testing our resolve. How much will we take?”

  “Why? That’s just silly and dangerous.”

  “The Russians are more pragmatic than us. They know there is a high probability we could go to war someday. It’s important to know how much of a head start we plan to give them if they ever do attack. Even cyberwarfare is merely a precursor to boots on the ground for them. They need to know how we will respond. It’s smart when you think about it.”

  “Do you think they would attack?” Greg pressed.

  “Probably not.” Vince shook his head. “If they did come after us, I don’t think they would take the lead. If the Russians ever start to think seriously about attacking us, be wary of them to getting cozier with China or North Korea first. They would want to convince one of them to take the brunt of the first attack. However, you can be sure Russia would find some way to be there when it’s all over.”

  Change

  “Of the twenty-two civilizations that have appeared in history, nineteen of them collapsed when they reached the moral state that the United States is in now.”

  - Arnold Joseph Tonybee

  << Liz >>

  “Bill, is all this extra security necessary?” Liz asked from the back of the dark SUV.

  “Yes ma’am,” the bodyguard said. “When the studio and your agent advised you to hire me a year ago, things were different. At most I kept paparazzi away from you and fans from getting too touchy feely. The worst-case scenario we worried about was a stalker. We might have added some security if you were doing a shoot in a location that was less secure. That was about it.”

  To Liz, Bill was like a brick wall with his emotions and stern, reticent nature. He was a man who, while not so tall, seemed large. Standing close to five nine, his eyes were dark like his hair that was cut short in a military style. He was also thick through the neck and shoulders.

  Liz was partially participating in the conversation and letting her mind drift. She rode in the dark SUV with tinted bulletproof windows. She didn’t know the driver. Bill was up front in the passenger seat. While some people in her profession thrived on the star treatment, Liz didn’t like the way it made her feel isolated from the people and outside world. It was an extravagance to have two vehicles and five men to take one girl to a party.

  She knew herself well enough to know that when her mind started to get negative or in this reflective state, she needed to get back to her family and friends in Kentucky to recharge. Hollywood and Southern California had everything a person with access and means could want. However, it was easy to become jaded and emotionally isolated here. Too much separation and star treatment made it harder for Liz to be genuine in her connection with the audience. John, her agent, would be disappointed again and remind her of all the missed opportunities when she told him she wanted to clear a few weeks of her schedule. Yet she couldn’t fulfill any commitments if she didn’t get her mind right. Liz was adamant that she owed her fans the genuine article and from the heart emotions. She promised herself to never just go through the motions.

  “What’s so different, Bill?” she asked, shaking her mind from her reverie. “I guess I haven’t been paying attention. The news seems pretty much the same as it’s always been. I don’t hear a huge alarm or concern being raised about terrorism or threats any more than usual.”

  “Ma’am, it’s hard for me to put it into words,” Bill spoke in more of a concerned brother tone. “In my opinion, people hate each other more the past few years. They’re resorting to violence more and listening less. The two political parties have been able to rile their constituents up to a level that it’s like the reds and blues are preparing for war.”

  “That’s politics,” Liz chuckled.

  “Maybe. I’ll be the first to admit I hope I’m wrong. This feels different, though.”

  “Okay.” It was hard for Liz to hide the skeptical tone in her voice.

  “It’s like this,” Bill said. “For thousands of years, it’s been hard for people to hurt or kill one another. I know this for certain. We have to train soldiers in the mental approach to killing. Despite all the violence you see on TV, that’s a small percentage of the population. Most people are so ingrained in the rules and following the crowd that they would be freaked out by the thought of killing another human being. It’s biblical. People either need to be cornered physically or emotionally, or they have to hype themselves up to kill. At least the common man does. Throughout history, that has meant that the tipping point is in the favor of good people who want peace and order.

  “Because the bad people were always such a small percentage of society, we could employ a limited police force to keep them in check. If the problem ever got so large that you needed an army-sized police force, then there is something fundamentally wrong with your society. Then you have a police state and the seeds for civil war.”

  Liz nodded, beginning to understand Bill’s point.

  “A trained soldier doesn’t need the hype to kill after the first or second battle,” Bill explained. “There are very few soldiers that can kill dispassionately from the start. You see some of the same casual attitudes toward death and killing in the inner-city gangs. Those gangs and the people in that life are on a constant war footing. With all that in mind, killing is still not normal for most people.” Bill was clearly passionate about the subject. “Heck, even whole countries need to build up people to support their views on war with rallies, speeches, and news blitzes. Armies and societies have done that for thousands of years, because it’s easier to kill or enslave another group that you hate so much as to think they’re practically inhuman. When you demonize the opposition that way, you don’t have to listen to them or even acknowledge their alternate point of view.”

  “Wow,” Liz muttered under her breath, beginning to follow what Bill was saying.

  “One writer wrote a book called The Silencing of America, which sums up a good portion of the disdain we hold for people with different views and how nothing they say can possibly reach our brains
. That’s part of what’s going on in America.”

  When Bill paused to let Liz reply, she had nothing to say. She fully understood what Bill was trying to get across, and it was scary. Like a marriage when people didn’t care enough to even listen to each other anymore.

  “You have to totally discredit your enemy and the lines of communication to dehumanize them enough to rile your people up. We’re already in a bad place financially as a country. We have other countries and terrorists wanting a crack at us. It’s a bad time to have this level of internal strife.”

  Liz gazed out the window, pondering Bill’s words, wondering if he was one of those right-wing nuts, or was he on to something?

  Just then she heard pings against the vehicle, and it rapidly accelerated and swerved hard, throwing her shoulder against the door. Liz turned back to see what they had veered so hard for. The second SUV fell back, turning in slow “S” curves in the road, blocking someone from behind who was trying to get past. With an odd sense of detachment, Liz observed the cat and mouse game of the vehicles behind her. The men protecting her were blocking the advance of some bad men with maneuvers that resembled water ballet from inside her vehicle where the sound was muffled. Then G forces pressed her back against the seat as her own vehicle sped up again through an opening in traffic. Bill spoke into his headset urgently, and his whole persona transformed before her eyes. His face, posture, and words were laden with a smoldering intensity. The man she had been speaking to a moment ago as a friend and employee was now so charged she wanted out of his way. She kept her gaze focused on the second SUV as it fell further away. One of the security men rose from its sunroof and another out of a side window to shoot. Both were carrying identical Beretta Storm 9mm assault weapons. While Liz didn’t know what they were, she did know they reminded her of something futuristic. She’d seen the weapons earlier and teased Bill that they looked like movie props. Bill chuckled, saying in most situations he preferred a Tavor as an alternative, although the Beretta was a good brand and didn’t take up a lot of space. Additionally, the 9mm round didn’t carry as far or punch through as much as a .556 or .308 round. In an urban environment, he wanted to minimize risk to bystanders any way he could.

  It was the pinging against her vehicle and the trailing vehicle shooting back that made it hit home that she was actually in danger. The fact that they were in the middle of a firefight was unreal and terrifying to Liz at the same time. Her breathing became fast and shallow, and a wave of panic hit her. Her body started to shake as she realized the pings she’d heard earlier were rounds directed at her vehicle. More specifically, they were fired at her! A detached part of her noted that this didn’t sound like the firefights in her movies. This was real. Liz’s most prevalent thought was to get as low as she could. She would have crawled under the seat if she could. The scene both mesmerized and terrified her to the core at the same time. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the fight behind her.

  Her SUV couldn’t get far away because of the dense traffic. Her mind slowed down and focused on minor details: the spark of light flash from the muzzle of the weapon as the other men fired at the second SUV escorting her; one of her men shooting from the sunroof of the second SUV losing his balance and grabbing for support; a silver minivan trying to get past that second SUV. Men from that minivan were shooting from the windows toward her people. Even further back, she thought she saw a beat-up Honda desperately trying to weave through traffic and catch up. She couldn’t tell if they were thrill seekers or part of the ambush team that got left behind in traffic. It was inconceivable that her driver and security folks could be so calm. The thinking part of her brain knew this was their profession. The irrational part thought they were crazy.

  It wasn’t long before the SUV she was in left the other vehicles behind and things appeared to return to normal and slowed down. Both Bill and the driver acted as if nothing happened. Liz wondered for a moment if Bill’s terrible warlike visage had only been in her mind. Still, she knew what she saw. It would stick with her for a long time. It made her glad he was on her side and not against her.

  “Bill, what the hell was that? Aren’t you worried about the others? Why the fuck are you so calm? Why are you acting like nothing happened?” Liz could hear the hysteria rising in her voice and didn’t care.

  “Ma’am, this is exactly what we were talking about earlier. Things like this are becoming more common. Carjackings are just one of many things going on. Police aren’t responding as fast because so many have quit and the replacements are not trained as well. The older, more experienced officers are leaving, and the new ones are less inclined to put themselves in harm’s way. I don’t blame them when you consider they’re getting sued and shot so frequently for so little pay and support from the people in their own communities. I’m guessing those crooks saw two black SUVs the night of the big gala and assumed someone wealthy would be loaded with jewels and cash and worth trying.”

  “That’s possible,” Liz allowed.

  “Our men are fine,” Bill reported. “They radioed that soon after we got away the minivan broke off and took a side street. There was another beater car further back that followed the minivan when they turned off. Besides, we have bigger questions to deal with.” Bill grinned in an attempt to lighten her mood. Some men didn’t have the right face smiling.

  “What could be bigger than what we just dealt with?” Liz asked, not even trying to hide the high-pitched incredulity in her voice.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck,’” Bill said. “It’s not like you. You’re classier and prettier than that.”

  “What does being pretty have to do with cussing?” Liz asked, perturbed at being scolded by her security man. “Beside are you saying that’s it? They shoot at us and we shoot back and it’s over? This is crazy!”

  “Yes,” Bill said patiently, “that’s it. Our people are okay. We don’t think we hurt any of them that bad. We’ve already called the police and informed them why we left the scene. There may be a perfunctory investigation or a lawyer may have to pay a fine for us, but yes, that’s it.”

  “My God, that’s insane.”

  “Yes ma’am, it is. We can go home and skip this event if you like. What’s your preference?”

  After a pause, Liz said, “Let’s see this thing through. And by the way, thank you.”

  “No problem, ma’am. Keeping you safe is what I do.”

  “Thank you for what you said about me being classy too.”

  Arriving at the event, they were ushered through a phalanx of security. The second SUV had caught back up earlier and now peeled off as they approached the red carpet. The SUV gently glided up to the red carpet as if nothing happened. Bill stepped out to open the door for Liz. Her agent John was there to escort from the car, through the throng of paparazzi, and into the event. She supposed she should have allowed some Hollywood hunk to perform that role so the gossip columns could go through their gyrations of who was dating whom. John and the studio execs were always trying to play matchmaker. It was fun sometimes, though usually merely tedious. The men they tried to set her up with were so fake. When she tried to have a heartfelt conversation, it was awkward and strained more often than not.

  As a Hollywood star, Liz knew how to put on a winning smile as John escorted her up the red carpet. She was still feeling shaken on the inside. Her heart rate still hadn’t slowed, yet none of her fans would have ever guessed. She wanted to get inside somewhere safe and quiet where she could lose her cool for a moment. She needed some time to process why her security team could be so cool with all this and why it wasn’t a bigger deal. Had shootouts in the street on your way to work become so commonplace that it didn’t warrant much of a reaction anymore? It boggled her mind.

  << Dave >>

  With the conclusion of the sanitation workers’ strike, the other service disruptions virtually ceased. Dave was glad to be back at the corporate headquarters, although as a business man and citizen, the con
cessions the politicians offered the strikers amounted to kicking a huge can down the road. The city was accruing debt at a level the economy and tax system couldn’t possibly maintain.

  At the Cavanaugh Corp headquarters, Dave was both apprehensive and excited about this meeting. They were using the huge mahogany boardroom on the 30th floor. Despite the wealth and size of the Cavanaugh Corporation, the headquarters did not need a huge presence. Most of the people and assets were spread around the country at different work locations, sub offices, and warehouses. Leasing the top ten floors of the new glass office tower in Denver was more a concession to his board than a personal choice for Dave. The offices and location were beautiful and decorated tastefully. While Dave said the soul of his company resided in the Colorado mountains around South Park, he had to admit that the brains of it was here at the top of this office tower.

  While technically Cavanaugh Corporation did not own a majority of the building, they did have a significant stake in its ownership and they had built it. Dave had been with the construction crew when they put the final capping I-beam in place. It was an incredible rush to be up there with the construction crew gazing out over the city. He could see the plains off to the east, the majestic Rocky Mountains at his back as he stood on the bones of the incomplete building.

  Usually Dave grew annoyed with these types of meetings. He was a man of action. The schmoozing that was such an integral part of his business didn’t sit well with Dave and felt phony and cumbersome. However, he was good at it, figuring the reason he did it well was because he didn’t like the fake part of it. When he was able to connect with a client on a personal level, then it became more fun. In those cases, they could sit down over a glass of top shelf Kentucky bourbon and dream. Then Dave’s true skill kicked in, and that was turning dreams into wood, steel, glass, and concrete realities.