Phoenix Rising pr-1 Read online

  From the American Commander

  The Dunes, Fort Morgan, Alabama—Monday, June 18

  Bob Varney was standing on the beach looking out at the now deserted offshore gas drilling rigs. Until Ohmshidi halted all domestic drilling, the rigs were ablaze with lights each night as for twenty-four hours a day, every day; they pumped gas from the rich deposits just off the Alabama Gulf Coast. Now the rigs were dark and deserted.

  Charley was busily digging up sand crabs. When he found one he would jerk it up out of the hole, then throw it. More often than not he would watch the crab scurry away quickly, then go to another hole to start the process all over again.

  “Nothing has changed for you, has it, Charley Dog? As far as you are concerned, your world is still Ellen, me, this beach, and the sand crabs. You’re not worried that I’m not writing anymore, or that my Army retirement and Social Security checks have stopped.”

  Charley came over to Bob and reared up, putting his front two feet on Bob’s legs. Bob reached down and rubbed him behind the ears for a moment.

  “Go find another crab,” he said, and Charley took off on his mission.

  Although normally at this time of the year the beach would be crowded with summer people, it was empty now. Bob wasn’t surprised. Vacations cost money and with the cost of gasoline today—that is, when you could even find gasoline—it would be prohibitive for any family to make the long drive.

  There were twenty-two houses in The Dunes compound. The houses that sat right on the beach were all huge, multimillion-dollar homes. Normally rented in the summer time, they were all empty now, as was every other house in The Dunes, except for the three houses that were occupied by permanent residents. Bob was a permanent resident and his house was on the third row, approximately three hundred yards from the beach.

  In addition to the houses, there were two seven-story condominiums, The Dunes and The Indies. Not one unit in either of the two large condominiums was occupied. One mile farther down was Fort Morgan, an historic old fort that was built just after the War of 1812.

  Bob turned toward the surf and shouted at the top of his voice. “It is I, Robinson Crusoe. Where is everyone?”

  Charley came running back to him and looked up with a quizzical expression on his face.

  “You think I’m losing my mind, do you, Charley Dog?” Bob asked. He shook his head. “No, I’m not losing my mind. I’m just losing my will.

  “My will to what? Survive? No, I’ll not lose my will to survive. I survived three combat tours as a helicopter pilot in Vietnam. If I could deal with long strings of green tracer rounds coming toward me, to say nothing of air-bursting flak, then I can damn well deal with what we are facing now.

  “I think.

  “Come on, Charley, I’m tired of walking. Be a good dog and lay a couple of turds for me so we can head back to the house.”

  Almost as if responding to Bob’s request, Charley hunkered down to do his business. Once completed, he looked at his deposit as if proud of it, then came over to Bob to await the treat that was his reward for performance. Bob gave him a treat, then dug a hole in the sand and pushed Charley’s effort into it. He used to pick it up in a plastic bag, then drop the bag in the trash can, but that was when Baldwin County was still picking up trash.

  Due to fuel concerns, the letter from Baldwin County waste disposal said, we will no longer be making our regular trash pickup. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.

  “You apologize,” Bob said when he got the notice. “Well, as long as you apologize, I’m sure it will be all right.”

  They walked back on the boardwalk between the USA and Dreamweaver houses to the golf cart that was parked on the road. Charley ran to the cart, then jumped up on the seat.

  Seeing Charley do this, exactly as he had done for the last ten years, Bob felt a lump in his throat. How he envied Charley’s ignorance of the fact that everything was coming down around them.

  He glanced at his watch. If he was going to get back home in time to watch George Gregoire, he was going to have to hurry.

  Hello, America.

  Last Friday we heard Mehdi Ohmshidi take the unprecedented act of declaring himself dictator of this nation. He did this with something called “the Enabling Act.” Let me give you a history lesson. On March 23, 1933, the German Reichstag met in Berlin to consider passing a law that would end democracy in Germany, and establish the legal dictatorship of Adolph Hitler. This act was called the Enabling Act. It did pass, Hitler became dictator of Germany, and we all know what happened.

  Is it just ironic coincidence that Ohmshidi chose the same name?

  But, not to worry. The Enabling Act is clearly a violation of the United States Constitution, so the Supreme Court will overturn it. Right?

  Not so fast. We now know that within moments after Ohmshidi made his announcement Friday night, the Supreme Court did meet in emergency session to consider the constitutionality of this new law.

  What did they decide?

  They decided nothing. They couldn’t decide because before they even convened, federal agents descended upon the Supreme Court and took every justice of the Supreme Court into what is being called protective custody.

  Who did this ?

  Not the FBI, not the CIA, not the Homeland Security. By dictatorial fiat, those agencies no longer exist. No, the arresting officers, we are told, belong to the newly organized agency, the State Protective Service.

  A spokesman for the SPS has stated that the justices are not under arrest, but have been moved to an undisclosed site for their own safety. While there, the spokesman added, the justices will participate in a conference during which the details of the Enabling Act will be discussed.

  America, we are seeing, before our very eyes, the total destruction of our republic. Misguided voters, thinking it would be cool to vote a naturalized American into office, flocked to the polls to show the rest of the world what an unbiased and open-minded nation we are. They voted for this man without really knowing anything about him.

  And now, we are about to pay the piper.

  The telephone rang and Ellen answered it.

  “Hello? Oh, Tim, hi, sweetheart. Yes, he’s here. Okay, just a minute.”

  Ellen brought the phone over to Bob. “Tim wants to talk to you,” she said.

  “Hello, Tim, what’s up?” Bob asked.

  “You were right, Dad,” Tim said. His voice was low and obviously strained.

  “Right about what?”

  “About everything,” Tim said. “How could I have ever been such a fool to vote for this man?”

  “If it is any consolation to you, you aren’t the only one. He is president because more people voted for him than against him. That’s the way democracy works. Or at least, that is the way it used to work. After his Enabling Act, and some of the other things he’s done, I don’t know.”

  “Dad, I’ve pulled all your money out of the market,” Tim said. “Mine too.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been in this business for ten years,” Tim said. “I can read the signs. The way things are going, the stock market isn’t going to last another year. I’m not sure it’s going to last another month.”

  “But the market keeps going up,” Bob said.

  “Yes, it keeps going up, but the real value is plummeting. I’m going to do an electronic transfer of the money to your bank.”

  “How much is it?”

  Tim chuckled. “It’s a little over one and a half million,” he said.

  “Whoa, that’s pretty good, isn’t it? Last time I checked it was a little under three hundred thousand.”

  “I wish I could say that it was good, but the only thing it means is that money is losing its value faster than we can keep track.”

  “Tim, wait, don’t do an electronic transfer,” Bob said. “I won’t be able to get it out of the bank. I can’t draw out any more than ten thousand dollars at a time.”

  Tim laughed. “You haven’t been k
eeping up, have you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The banks are no longer observing that limit. The value of the dollar has decreased so far that the FDIC insurance is virtually worthless now. That means that, though the Fed still has authority over the banks, they no longer have any leverage. The banks can do whatever they want and it doesn’t matter.”

  “Tim, you know how far we are from town. Tell me truthfully, is the money even worth going into town for?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. I wish I could answer that. But if I were you, I would go into town and take it out, then buy as much as you can with it. The more you have in real property, such as food, bottled water, fuel, anything you can think of that you might need—and that you can actually find on the market—the better off you will be. The problem now is there are less and less goods and services still available.”

  “How are you doing?” Bob asked. “I mean, you are a broker, if the stock market really is going to go belly up, where does that leave you?”

  Tim laughed, but it was a harsh, humorless laugh. “Dad, it leaves me in the same boat as everyone else in the country—up shit creek without a paddle.”

  “Are you, Pam, and Jack going to be all right?”

  “You remember that place we bought on Lake of the Ozarks?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve filled the SUV with survival gear. There’s fresh water and game there. We’re heading there tomorrow.”

  “Keep in touch with us,” Bob said.

  “I will for as long as I can,” Tim said.

  “You better talk to your mom now,” Bob said. “You don’t have to repeat all this. I’ll fill her in on it later.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Bob handed the phone over to Ellen. “He wants to talk to you,” he said.

  Because Ellen had been listening to one side of the conversation, she knew that whatever it was wasn’t pleasant, and her voice broke when she took the phone. “Hello?”

  Fort Rucker—Monday, June 18

  “My God,” Jake said. “Do you know what you have here?” He was holding the McAuliffe note Karin had given him.

  “Yes, it’s the note General McAuliffe sent to the German commander,” Karin said.

  “It is a piece of American history,” Jake said. “All the more important now that our history is being taken from us.”

  “It’s amazing that Colonel Chambers held on to it all these years,” Karin said. “It had to be worth a lot of money.”

  “I would say, conservatively, it was worth more than a million dollars back when a million dollars actually meant something. But I’m not surprised that he held on to it. He was there, so I’m sure that, to him, this note was worth more than any amount of money.”

  Karin nodded. “I didn’t know him that long,” she said. “But, from what I did know of him, I would say yes, he was that kind of a man.”

  “For someone who didn’t know him all that long, you certainly made an impression on him,” Jake said.

  “Not nearly as much as the impression he made on me,” Karin replied.

  There was a light knock on the door and Sergeant Major Matthews stuck his head in.

  “Excuse the intrusion, ma’am,” Clay said. Then to Jake, “Major, I thought you might like to know that Sergeants Dagan, McMurtry, Jenkins, Pounders, and Vivian are gone.”

  “I’m surprised they stayed around as long as they did,” Jake said. “Did you check with Staff and Faculty Company? Are they being reported missing on the morning report?”

  “There is no morning report, Major. There is no first sergeant, there is no company commander. Nobody knows where Captain Poppell is. No one has seen him since the announcement of the RIF.”

  “I hope Dagan and the others get home all right,” Jake said. “If that is where they are going. How many people do we have still reporting for work every day?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, but I would say about twenty, sir.”

  “Twenty out of an authorized strength of seventy-two. Actually, that’s better than I thought it would be.”

  “Yes, sir, well, I reckon they are pretty much like me, they don’t have any place else to go.”

  “Are the mess halls still feeding?”

  “A couple of them are. The consolidated mess is still serving meals.”

  “That’s good. If the men are going to stay around, they should at least have someplace to eat.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s pretty much what I think as well. When do you think they are going to start sending the RIF orders down?” Clay asked.

  “From the looks of things, they aren’t going to need to send any orders down. Looks to me like the reduction in force is taking care of itself.”

  “Yes, sir, I would say that as well,” Clay answered. “It almost makes you wonder if this isn’t the way they planned it in the first place.”

  “Sergeant, in order to plan something, one must have enough sense to anticipate the outcome. It is clear to me that nobody in Washington, in or out of uniform, has that kind of sense.”

  Clay laughed out loud.

  “I didn’t say that for a joke, Clay, I said it as a matter of grave concern.”

  “Yes, sir, I know that, Major. But I figure that about the only way we are going to get through all this is if we learn to laugh at the stupidity.”

  Jake chuckled, and nodded his head. “You may have a point there, Sergeant Major. You may indeed have a point.”

  “Ma’am,” Clay said before he withdrew.

  “Sergeant Major, wait a moment,” Jake said. “You come from an old Army family, don’t you?”

  “My Dad was in Korea and Vietnam, my grandpa was in World War Two, my great-grandpa was in World War One, and my great-great-grandpa was with Custer. Actually, he was with Benteen during the fight, or else I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Then with that kind of background, you might appreciate this,” Jake said. He handed the browned piece of paper to Clay.

  Clay looked at it, then glanced up at Jake and Karin. “Is this real?” he asked.

  “As far as we know, it is,” Jake said.

  “This is the note that McAuliffe sent to General Freiherr von Lüttwitz,” Clay said. “I thought Colonel Chambers had it.”

  “You knew Colonel Chambers?” Karin asked, surprised by Clay’s comment.

  “Knew? You mean he has died?”

  “Yes, this morning.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Clay said. “But yes, I knew him. My dad and my grandpa both served with him. He retired before I came into the Army, almost thirty years ago, but I remember him well. He was a fine old gentleman.”

  Karin showed Clay the letter Chambers had written before he died.

  “Good for you, Captain,” Clay said after he read the letter. “I can’t think of anyone who would deserve it more.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Dunes, Fort Morgan—Wednesday, June 20

  Bob wasn’t able to get very much with the money that was transferred to his account. It wasn’t that he didn’t have enough money, though certainly what he did buy cost more than he could have possible imagined just one month ago. One pound of dry beans cost one thousand dollars; a five-pound bag of flour was fifteen hundred dollars.

  Bob had more than a million dollars to work with, and he didn’t mind spending it because he was sure it would be worth half as much the next day. What limited his purchases was not money, but availability. Most of the stores in Gulf Shores, and in Foley, had closed, and the few that remained open had less than ten percent of their normal items on the shelves.

  When they returned to their house they loaded everything into the elevator to take it up to the kitchen.

  “Look at that,” Bob said, pointing to the groceries. “What we bought today cost more than the total amount of my last contract, and it doesn’t even cover the whole floor of the elevator.”

  “At this rate, we are going to run out of money within a month,” Ellen said.

&nb
sp; “It won’t matter.”

  “Of course it will matter. What do you mean it won’t matter?”

  “Ellen, one month from now we’ll be using hundred-dollar bills as toilet paper.”

  Bob helped Ellen put away the groceries; then he sat on the couch and picked up the remote. Charley jumped up beside him.

  When the TV screen came up there was a huge letter O in the middle of the light blue screen. The O was green, with three horizontal, wavy blue lines at the bottom. Above the blue wavy lines was a green plant that looked for all the world like a marijuana plant.

  The O went away, and the camera showed President Ohmshidi sitting at his desk in the Oval Office. There were some changes in the Oval Office from the last time Ohmshidi had made a public address—which was yesterday. The changes were immediately apparent. His desk was flanked, left and right, by two muscular and unsmiling black men, both members of the SPS. They were wearing forest-green uniforms with SPS gold collar pins; the two S letters, rendered as lightning bolts, were separated by the letter P, which resembled a one-sided hatchet. Ohmshidi O logo armbands were around their left arm, and they stood at parade rest, staring unblinkingly straight ahead.

  The American flag was missing. In its place was a white banner, which, because of the way it was hanging, did not display all its components.

  My fellow citizens, as you know, in the past few days, since the establishment of the Enabling Act, the nation has been curious as to how the Supreme Court would act. I am pleased to report that this issue has now been resolved in my favor. All nine sitting justices have submitted their resignation and I have appointed a new court.

  This new court has unanimously approved the Enabling Act, as I knew they would. They have also ruled favorably upon other actions I have already taken, and will now explain to you.

  During my campaign, I had a logo developed for me that reflected my belief in this country, not what it is now, and certainly not what it has been in its odious past, but in the greatness that lies before us as we complete our fundamental change. As you recall that logo is my initial, the letter O in green. Inside this green circle are wavy blue lines that represent clean water, and a stylized green plant that symbolizes not only a green, clean world, but new growth.