Secession: The Storm (36 page)

The deputy’s remark about the warning call was troubling. Suspects generally fled when they got warnings; they didn’t stay to shoot it out with law enforcement. So why didn’t Buffalo run? He had time, given that the deputies waited a few minutes before entering, waiting for Zach. And if the ranger had not been tardy, he would have been the man in front. It was always that way, the senior man taking the lead, especially if he was a Texas Ranger. If someone had made a warning call, he might have been the intended target.

It was all too much. Considering the hangover, sleeping through his alarm, forgetting his lifeline-cell, and the enormous pressure of the Hendricks documents, Zach’s reasoning arrived at the worst-case conclusion. “Somebody is trying to kill me,” he hissed, an internal rage growing by the second. “I don’t know who, or why, but they better eat a big breakfast before coming after me. I’ll be watching now… I’ll be ready.”

Governor Simmons followed the state-provided sedan as it entered the half-circular drive, eventually passing the uniformed Department of Public Safety officer stationed at the gate. A few years ago, while the governor’s mansion was under renovation, some asshole had tossed a Molotov cocktail and damn near burned the place to the ground. Ever since, the people had been burdened with the cost of protecting the national historic site.

It wasn’t long before the visitor was mounting the front steps. Simmons, stepping from between the Greek Revival columns, extended his hand. 

“Thank you for coming so late, Doris. This exhausted public servant surely does appreciate it.”

“No problem, Governor. My staff has finished the evaluation of the state’s global corporations, and I knew you wanted this report as soon as possible.”

They entered the foyer, grand marble, historical artworks, and an assortment of antiques from the proud past aesthetically displayed. Neither party paid much attention, the governor passing through almost every day, the state’s comptroller nearly as often.

They stepped down the hall, eventually arriving at the mansion’s library, both taking familiar seats. Digging through her attaché case, the state’s financial wizard dug out two copies of a report.

A smug smile formed on the governor’s lips. “I bet all of our corporate friends are as giddy as we are about the possible reemergence of the Republic.”

Frowning, Doris shook her head, “Surprisingly enough, sir, that’s not the case. I had my people double-check the results, and quite frankly, the numbers are all a little troubling.”

“Troubling?” grimaced Simmons, “What do you mean? I figured all those big business honchos would be chomping at the bit, waiting for our independence day. What’s got their saddle blanket in a wad?”

“It seems the majority of the CEOs interviewed were very concerned about infrastructure and bureaucracy. They mentioned tax law, collection, and processing. Others wondered about Food and Drug regulation and enforcement. All of the federal agencies, administrations, and bureaus that are part of their everyday business processes have no Texas equivalent. That means they would face an unknown, and nothing worries executives more than uncertainty.”

The governor rubbed his chin, clearly puzzled. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Face-to-face, they all buck and moan about the mammoth federal bureaucracy in Washington, how it eats profits and gives nothing but headaches in return.”

“Yes,” replied the comptroller, “That’s true. But they
know
Washington. They know the game. If Texas becomes an independent nation, the dust won’t settle for quite a long time, and they are well aware of that fact. Their operating environment would become an unknown.”

Nodding his understanding, Simmons seemed disappointed, “We’ve been working with the assumption that all the major corporations in America would be stampeding our borders, anxious to get the heel of Washington’s boot off their throats. From what you’re saying, our friends in the business world are going to hang back for a bit and see how we set things up.”

“It’s more than just the bureaucracies, sir,” she added, flipping through the report. “Several mentioned the court systems. They seem concerned that the existing state infrastructure isn’t prepared to take on the federal workload. But… the single largest concern in their minds was currency and banking. Practically every interviewee asked if Texas would print its own money or if there would be a system like the Euro. Will we have a central bank, insurance like the FDIC, and a stock market? How long will all of that take to establish? What happens in the meantime?”

“Those are reasonable apprehensions on their part, no doubt about it,” the governor agreed. “I wonder if all those people who went around demanding Texas pull out of the union had any clue how complex all this was going to be. Here they were, signing petitions and writing Internet blogs like this was as easy as baking a batch of cookies.”

“It is an enormous undertaking, Governor, no doubt about it. And if we simply duplicate what Washington has created over the years, aren’t we going to end up in the exact same place? Out of control debt, overregulation, and an infrastructure that is self-destructing?”

Simmons nodded, “I understand. What would be the point if we simply mimicked Washington? They might as well stay put if there’s no advantage in pulling up stakes and moving south.”

“Whatever the experts decide, sir, it has to be new and improved. But aren’t we all hoping for that very thing?”

Red watched the gas pump’s numbers roll, a little worried that he might overdraw his checking account with the fill-up. Mary needed diapers and some hotdog buns for the cookout at her mom’s this afternoon, but he had a twenty to take care of his wife’s shopping list.

The sound of crunching gravel caused him to look up, an old Chevy pickup rolling to the island on the opposite side of his Dodge. Nodding at the driver, he wondered if Steve knew one of his running lights had burned out.

“Morning, Red,” greeted the new arrival, swiping his card and then pulling the hose from the pump.

“Morning, Steve,” came the reply. “How’s that GM product treating you these days?”

“I’ve got over 97,000 on her the last I looked, and other than being a hungry beast, she’s still running strong.”

The two men filled their tanks, small talk of family, fishing, and the big sale advertised at the Martin’s Tractor Supply permeating the Hancock, Mississippi air.

Red, having a head start, heard his pump snap off first. After returning the hose, he pulled a pen and piece of scrap paper from his pocket and wrote down the total. The receipt printer hadn’t worked in two years.

“Hey, Red,” Steve called, peeking around the pump, looking for the windshield squidgy. “What do you think about this whole Texas thing?”

Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, Red spat and then answered, “I don’t like it much. But truth be told, I’ve not considered it a whole lot. I’ve got a bearing going out on the Deere, and the small silo’s blower motor is on its last leg. Thinking about those Texans bailing out on us hasn’t been high on my list as of late.”

“Claire and I were talking about it this morning. She wants to put our place up for sale and move to the Lone Star State if it happens.”

The statement surprised Red. “Really? Things that bad, Steve?”

“No, no worse than normal. I’m just sick of busting my ass on that patch of dirt I call a farm, and never seeming to get anywhere. I’m not getting any younger, and Claire is convinced Texas is going to be a boomtown if this deal goes down.”

“But your family has lived here for what… four generations? We’ve all seen some tough times. I have to say I’m kind of shocked to hear you speak those words.”

Steve’s pump picked that moment to finish its work, the conversation put on hold while he returned the hose to the cradle. Rather than let the discussion end, he moved to the back of the truck and leaned against the fender, a sure sign he was serious about the subject. “What worries me the most is how this country will fare after Texas pulls out. The House will turn back over to the libs… probably the Senate, too. Claire is worried the whole damn place will become some sort of socialist mecca.”

Red looked down, scuffing his boots in the dust for a moment before responding. “I know this sounds bad, but two years ago… during the worst of the drought, Mary and I had to take assistance from the county. The harvest wouldn’t pay the mortgage
and
put meat on the table. If it weren’t for the food stamps, I would’ve lost my place to the bank. When I think about this supposed conservative paradise called the new Republic of Texas, I wonder if such a thing as food stamps will exist there. I worry about what would happen to folks in my situation… people who hit hard times and need a hand.”

Steve seemed a little surprised by Red’s story, “I had no idea. I knew things were tight for you guys, but didn’t think it had gotten so bad.”

“We only needed a little help for about three months, but with a new baby on the way and no rain, we were thankful. That episode changed my outlook on things. The Republicans can stammer and wail at the heavens about welfare fraud, cycles of dependency, and sucking from the government’s tit all they want. I used to agree with them wholeheartedly. But then when it hits you… when it’s your family that’s hungry… well, a man’s perspective can change.” 

Steve waved off his friend’s concerns, “There’s a difference and a big one. You’ve always been a hardworking man, paying his own way. I don’t know of a single conservative that would have denied you that help. It’s the people who game the system that raise their dander.”

Nodding, Red took a step toward the combination convenience store and post office, his friend moving to follow. “I don’t have any answers. I’m just a dirt farmer trying to get by. But I’ll tell you this, if I had a vote, I’d cast my ballot against it. The U.S.A. has accomplished more than any other country on earth, and we did it standing together. I don’t see any good reason to have a divorce now.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Steve replied, his mind moving on.

On the way out, Red held a small stack of mail in his hand. “Hey, Steve,” he called to his friend, holding up the envelopes. “Do you think they’ll have mail in Texas?”

“Probably,” came the frowning response.

“Dang… without the mail, there wouldn’t be any bills. Now that might convince me to pack up and move.”