Executive Orders: Part 2 of the Homeland Series (2 page)

Maggie looked up at her grandfather. “I want to do this. I’m ready.”

The bus stopped with a hiss of air brakes and the door folded open.

“Mornin’ Sheriff,” the driver said to Hank.

“Mornin’ Sandra,” he replied, “Take good care of my little girl.””

The driver smiled. “Like she was my very own.”

Maggie kissed Hank on the cheek and boarded the bus. It was almost full, be she found a seat next to a boy her age.

The door closed and the vehicle started back on its route, throwing Maggie off balance as she got to her seat.

“Hi, David,” she said to her classmate.

David didn’t answer.

“You okay?”

David shook his head.

“What’s wrong?”

David wiped his eyes. “They took my daddy away.”

“Who took him?”

“The men in black. They had guns. They took him last night.”

“Why?” Maggie asked.

“They said he was an enemy of the state.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know. They said it was because he was a preacher. They told Momma to keep her mouth shut and that I better go to school and keep my mouth, too. Or else they’d come back for the rest of us.”

“Where did they take him?”

David shrugged, “I don’t know.”

The bus squeaked to a stop in front of the school.

“It’s them!” David pointed to a man and a woman dark tactical uniforms standing by entrance. ‘FEMA’ was stitched in yellow letters on their chests. Both carried assault rifles. “They took him!” He began to shake. “They’re going to take me too.”

“I won’t let them.” Maggie took his hand. “We’’ll go in together.”

The two stepped off the bus, hand in hand. Both trembled as they approached the school entrance. The agents barely glanced at them as they walked by.

Maggie felt as if a weight was lifted from her chest as she and David walked the familiar halls. They found their classroom, but the woman in it wasn’t their teacher.

This lady was very young with black-rimmed glasses, short hair, and a piercing in her lip. She wore a red jacket, zipped to the neck, and khaki pants. The jacket had a round patch on the left breast with the words,
FEMA Corps
stitched in bold letters underneath.

“Welcome back to school, citizen.” the woman said cheerfully.

“Where is Miss Clark?” Maggie asked the woman.

The young lady smiled. “She doesn’t teach here anymore.”

“Why not?”

The smile wavered. “Please take your seat.”

“Is Miss Clark okay? Where did she go?”

The smile vanished. “I said take your seat.”

Maggie obeyed, still confused by the new teacher. She sat at her desk and looked around the room. It had also changed. The old map of the fifty United States was gone. A new map of the ten FEMA regions was in its place. A picture of a severe looking man hung atop the map.

Maggie leaned over and whispered to the girl in the next desk, “Who is that?” She pointed to the picture above the map.

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know.”

The flag was different, too. It hung on the wall next to the map. The stripes were still there, but the stars were gone. A wreathed blue and white globe took their place.

The bell rang. Nervous students quietly settled into their seats.

“Good morning, citizens. My name is Ms. Dawkins” the young teacher said with a sickly sweetness that turned Maggie’s stomach.

The roll was called and the teacher volunteered two children to hand out little green books to the class.

Maggie examined her copy, turning it over in her hands. The title read, ‘The New World.’

Ms. Dawkins held up her own copy. “This is your new textbook. It is the only textbook you need. It is also your law, your life and your Bible.” She opened her copy. “Please turn to the first page, face the flag and recite the pledge.”

The class read aloud under Dawkins’ watchful eye.

“I pledge allegiance to the Party and to the State which we serve, one People, in total obedience, with equity and sustainability for all.”

*****

Hank passed the Food City as he drove to his office at the courthouse. The former grocery store was now the county’s food distribution center. Hank saw the need to conserve vital resources such as food, fuel, and medicine the moment the power went out. A rash of robberies at local stores and pharmacies confirmed his fears. So he ordered all inventory from every grocery store, gas station, and pharmacy consolidated in one spot to make it easier to secure these supplies and make them last as long as possible. Otherwise, most of the county would starve before Spring.

The lines outside the place got longer every day. It got worse when the mayor gave half the county’s food to Dante, the newly emerged warlord in the next county, in exchange for not looting the town. Rations were cut then cut again, but Hank knew they still wouldn’t have enough food to last the winter. They needed more food, but how?

Hank pulled into his parking space in front of the courthouse to see a crowd there waiting for him. There were at least fifty of them. They didn’t look happy. He got out of his patrol car and asked, “What’s going on?”

“We’re hungry, Sheriff!” one of the people exclaimed.

“What are you gonna do about it!” shouted another.

“We’re all hungry,” Hank replied in soothing voice, “but our food supplies won’t last the winter without rationing.”

“The ration ain’t enough. We’re gonna starve if we don’t get more food.”

“Look, folks. We have two choices: hunger now or starvation later.”

“Tell that to my kids! They cry every night ‘cause they’re so hungry.”

“I’m truly sorry,” Hank tried to calm the crowd. “Like I said. We’re all doing without.”

An agitated man put a finger in Hank’s chest. “You don’t look so hungry.” He said to the others, “He’s feeding his face while our kids go to bed hungry!”

“I get the same ration as everybody else.” Hank jabbed his finger back into his accuser’s chest, causing him to retreat several steps. “If you’re pissed about not having enough to eat, talk to the mayor. He’s the one that gave half our food away.”

The disgruntled gathering began to break up.

Hank noticed something odd in the front lawn beyond the crowd. A team of inmates was busy building something under the supervision of a deputy. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Mayor’s orders,” replied one of the prisoners as he sawed a board.

Hank walked closer, studying the structure. It was a long, wooden platform, stilted about eight feet off the ground. Large square holes were cut into the floor every few feet. Long, thick posts were laid out on the ground behind each hole, waiting to be raised into place. Hank suddenly realized the men were building gallows.

He started to ask why, but thought better. If he heard “mayor’s orders” one more time, somebody would get shot.

“Hank!” a voice called from the courthouse step. It was Gunny, a grizzled Marine Corps veteran and Hank’s chief deputy. “We got problems.”

Hank walked over to his deputy and asked, “What now?”

Gunny pointed into the courthouse foyer.

Hank looked in to see the ground floor filled with more angry citizens gathered outside his office door. He gave Gunny a puzzled look.

“It’s Sanger and her thugs,” the chief deputy said,”They went around arresting people all last night. Pulled some of ‘em right out of their beds.” Gunny was referring to Special Agent Lucy Sanger, the local FEMA agent-in-charge.

“Who did they get?”

“That’s the weird part. Agent Sanger didn’t go after anybody with a criminal record. They mostly took lawyers, teachers, and almost every preacher in the county.”

Hank screwed up his face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sure it does.” Gunny raised an eyebrow. “Dictators always take political prisoners.”

“Dammit, Gunny. I said no more of that talk.”

An elderly woman spotted Hank and ran up to him. “Sheriff! Sheriff! They took my husband! They took Ray! He didn’t do anything wrong! Why did they take him?”

Hank recognized the lady. She was his pastor’s wife. He held her hands and tried to calm her. “It’s going to be okay, Edith. I don’t know why they took him, but I’ll get him back. This is just a big mistake.”

“But they kicked our door down.” The woman began to cry. “They punched Ray in the face and handcuffed him,” she sobbed. “In our own home!”

“Do you know where they took him?”

The woman nodded, saying through her tears, “The old drive-in theater. They took everybody there.”

“They will answer for this. I promise.” Hank raised his voice and addressed the rest of the frightened, enraged family members. “I’m going to sort this out right now. Your loved ones will be returned soon and the people who took them will answer for this. You have my word on that.” He turned to Gunny. “Get the names of every person arrested and why they were taken. I’m going to check out the drive-in, then I’ll handle Sanger. But first, I’m going to see Mayor Duncan.”

Hank marched across the railroad tracks to Duncan’s office.

The guards were still at the door. He took his pistol out of its holster and handed it over on his way in, slamming it into the deputy’s chest hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Finbarr!” Hank demanded as he stormed into the mayor’s office. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“How dare you talk to me like that in my own office!” The mayor stood behind his desk. “Who do you think you are?”

“I’ll ask you the same thing. Where do you get off arresting people in the middle of the night. And don’t tell me it was all Sanger’s doing. I know you helped her.” He pointed at the wall in the direction of the courthouse. “And why are you building gallows?”

“Yes. I helped her. I told her who the troublemakers are, the people most likely to resist.”

“Resist what?”

“The new order,” Finbarr said. “Things have changed, Hank. You must know that it will never be the same again. We have to think of the future and our place in it.”

“We were elected to serve and protect the people. You betrayed that trust when you gave up innocent men and women to save your own skin. That makes you a traitor.”

“I’m a survivor.”

“You are Judas.” Hank was suddenly glad the deputies took his pistol.

“The new world is here, Hank. Like it or not. You can climb on board or be crushed under the wheels of progress.”

“Progress?” Hank laughed bitterly. “You call arresting innocent people in the middle of the night progress?”

“Like I said, Hank. I’m just following orders, trying to survive. If you were smart, you’d do the same.”

“Where is Sanger?”

“She’s in her new headquarters.”

“Which is where?”

“First Baptist Church, downtown. She commandeered it yesterday. They chained the doors of all the churches in the county.”

“What the hell for?”

“So people couldn’t meet to plot against the new government.”

“You make me sick.” Hank couldn’t hide his disgust as he turned to leave. “One day you’ll hang from your own noose. I hope I’m there to see it.”

*****

Hank drove to the old drive-in on the outskirts of town. Hank and Betty took their boys here a hundred times when they were little. It was a family favorite. The place went out of business after the owner died, then sat empty for twenty years. Now prisoners lined the interior of chain-link fence surrounding it. Their loved ones crowed on the opposite side.

Sounds of sobbing filled the chill air as FEMA Corps workers erected a new screen over the broken-down remains of the existing one.

He approached the gate. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked an armed guard in tactical uniform and body armor.

“Special Agent Sanger,” the guard replied coldly.

Hank pointed to the prisoners inside the fence. “Why were those people arrested? What are they charged with?”

“All questions are to be directed to Special Agent Sanger.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why these people are imprisoned.”

Another agent appeared. “Return to your vehicle, sir.”

“The hell I will.”

The first guard leveled his M4 at Hank.

The second agent repeated, “Return to your vehicle, sir.”

Hank didn’t budge.

The guard jabbed the muzzle of his rifle into Hank’s chest.

“Return to your vehicle, sir. You will not receive another warning.”

The M4 raised higher to aim at the sheriff’s face.

Hank looked into the guard’s eyes. They were the eyes of a killer. He stepped backward, slowly, until reaching his car.

*****

Hank arrived at what had been the First Baptist Church minutes later. A strange version of the U.S. flag was draped above the entrance. The fifty stars were replaced by the wreathed blue globe of the United Nations. Hank’s hair stood on end as he was reminded of Gunny’s ‘crazy’ theories. More FEMA Corps workers were using a crane to fix an enormous video and sound system to the front of the building.

Once again, he was required to surrender his sidearm before entering—this time to a black-clad FEMA agent guarding the door.

He found Sanger in the sanctuary. The pews were gone, replaced by weapons racks and equipment pallets. The FEMA agent was instructing a subordinate as to how she wanted this new supply room organized.

“Small arms go here.” She pointed to a spot in the floor. “Leave space for heavy weapons and plenty of ammunition. We are expecting a major resupply in a few days.” Sanger pointed to the cross at the head of the room. “And get that out of here. I don’t want to see it again.” She noticed Hank approaching. “Hello, Sheriff. I thought I might see you this morning.” She checked her watch. “You’re right on schedule.”

“You can’t arrest people for no reason, Sanger.”

“Oh, I had a very good reason. National security. Each detainee will be screened, questioned, and released as long as we don’t find any problems. If they have nothing to hide, they have nothing to fear.” She smiled. “Do you have anything to hide, Sheriff?”

“You don’t have the authority.”

“I have total authority.”

“You expect me to believe preachers are threats to national security?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything, Sheriff.”