The Alpha Chronicles (42 page)

“Sir, comparing the progress of that isolated region to the rest of the co
untry defies logic. The population density, resources and infrastructure pre-collapse was on a much smaller scale than the eastern corridor or other major population centers we are dealing with on a daily basis. They didn’t suffer nearly the percentage of population losses that the rest of the nation incurred.”

“That may be true, Colonel, but the fact remains that they have electricity, agricultural production, basic health care
, and rule of law. The vast majority of the rest of the nation does not.”

The pre
sident moved again to the assessment and flipped through several pages until he found what he was looking for. Holding the sheet high in the air, he continued. “This is a report from the commanding officer of the Houston garrison. He is now processing requests for key individuals to leave his jurisdiction and relocate to West Texas. According to this report, doctors, engineers, and nurses… all wanting to leave... all wanting to pack up and head off to a better place. This commander even refers to the situation as a ‘brain drain.’”

M
oreland paced the room for a few moments until his posture indicated he had reached a decision. “We can’t tolerate this, ladies and gentlemen. We can’t have individual kingdoms sprouting up all over our nation. In addition to West Texas, we know of several other examples. We have independent groups in North and South Dakota, Utah, Wyoming and parts of Idaho, Northeast Georgia… all have staked out their own little domains while we are struggling to jumpstart the entire country. They are all Americans, and they all need to contribute toward the greater cause, not create their own little city-states. This is not an acceptable model for governing all the people. We’re not living in the Middle Ages for heaven’s sake.”

The president stared
at an older man at the end of the table. “Dr. Harris has warned me that if this trend continues, the United States will look like continental Europe during medieval times – trifling, independent organizations that preclude the
amalgamation
of the population into a broader, regional government. We can’t let this happen – recovery is proving difficult enough without our focus being divided by competing governments.”

“In addition,” the chief executive continued, “Dr. Harris recommends that these area organizations be compelled to contribute their excess in order to enhance the greater good of the country as a whole. His view is that allowing the people of West Texas to eat well while their neighbors in Eastern Texas are starving will eventually lead to a series of conflicts, or small civil wars. These regional disputes, according to Dr. Harris’ analysis, will slow down the recovery - even more so than what we’ve experienced to date.”

“Sir,” t
he Colonel spoke up, “I don’t believe that is a wise strategy. I think that these regional governments have formed solely to fill a void, and for no other reason. If anyone tries to ‘take’ what they’re producing, it will increase tensions, not eliminate them.”

“You may be right, Colonel. That’s why I’m going to send you on a little fact finding mission. I want you to travel to West Texas and see what’s goi
ng on firsthand. I’ve arranged transport and expect to see you back here at Camp David within ten days.”

The meeting adjourned with the Colonel in a foul mood. Taking his time while gathering the documents and papers spread out on the table, he sensed a presence over his shoulder. Turning, he saw the smiling face of General Marcus.

“General.”

“I want you to know I’m on your side with this one. I think it’s not only morally wrong,
but also bad policy to even consider what Dr. Harris is proposing. I’m not sure my voice is enough to persuade the president, but I’m with you.”

“Thank you, General. That means a lot.”

“Let’s wait and see what your trip uncovers. I’ll volunteer to be a sounding board for whatever you want to talk about. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Alpha Texas

May
3, 2016   

Bishop strained with pushup number 47, sweat running into his eyes while his arms were screaming for mercy. He lowered his weight, determined to make it to 50. Sucking in another lung full of air, he opened his eyes and discovered two pairs of boots standing directly in front of him.

He looked up to see Kevin was the owner of the smaller pair, his ex-boss, the Colonel occupying the larger.

“Life is obviously too easy here, son. You’re getting soft,” the older man hailed.

Standing, wiping the swea
t on his pants, Bishop extended his hand for a vigorous greeting with the man who had been his mentor for years. “It’s good to see you, sir. What a pleasant surprise.”

The Colonel got right down to business, “Sorry to drop in unannounced, Bishop. I
was ordered by our new Commander in Chief to come and see what was going on out here. Your little social experiment has drawn the attention of the higher-ups in Washington.”

Turning to Kevin, the Colonel said, “Thank you young man,” a clear message that Kevin’s services were no longer needed. As Kevin left, Bishop wiped his face with a towel, trying to gather his wits after the surprise.

“Colonel,” Bishop said, “I’m not the person you need to see regarding our success. Terri, Diana, Pete, and a host of others are primarily responsible for the gains we’ve made. I’ve been convalescing mostly, since I saw you last.”

“I know, son. The feds have been watching
what’s going on around the country more than what you’re aware of, I’m sure. I wanted to stop by and speak with you first because we know each other – we worked together for years. We speak the same language.”

“Go on, sir.”

A look of disgust crossed the older man’s face. “My current task is to not only evaluate your success, Bishop, but also to determine what level of assets your organization can contribute to the rest of the nation. I don’t like, nor agree with my assignment, but as you’re no doubt aware, we don’t always get assigned to tasks we like while serving others.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘assets yo
ur organization can contribute.’”

Shaking his head, the Co
lonel replied, “President Moreland and his staff think that all of the country should pool resources. You may not realize it, but your little civilization here in West Texas is doing far better than the majority of the country. Some people back east believe your wealth should be redistributed for the good of everyone.”

Bishop smirked, “That will fly like a lead balloon, Colonel. We’ve earned
what we have with blood and sweat. No one has helped us one single bit.”

Nodding, the Colonel continued, “I agree. I agree 100 percent, son. L
ike I said, I don’t like my assignment, but I do what I’m ordered.”

“Well, sir, I’m not in charge around here. You should probably talk with Diana and Terri. I’ll be happy to help you find them.”

The Colonel agreed. Bishop poured his guest a cup of coffee and then hustled through a quick shower and change of clothes.

The two me
n left the church, the Colonel deciding he’d prefer to walk instead of riding in the standby golf cart. “It was a long flight out here, son. I need to stretch these old legs.”

As the duo made for the courthouse, one of T-Bone’s trucks honked as it approached, the bed of the pickup and long trailer full of old pipe sections, valves and other miscellaneous parts. T-Bone was riding shotgun, his son Lyndon behind the wheel.

“Hello, Bishop!” the junkman greeted.

“Hey, T-Bone. How’s the irrigation project going?”

“This load of pipe should finish another hundred-acre section. I’m hoping to turn on the water by dusk,” the man answered, a smile brightening his face.

“That’s great news, sir. I’ll pass it along to Terri.”

“I’ll be bringing up a trailer full of melons on the return trip. The work crews from Midland Station have been picking some beauties. They’re perfectly ripe, and the juice just runs down your chin.”

“Save me one, would ya? Nick and Diana are having us over for a cookout tonight
, and I’d love to surprise them with some fresh fruit,” Bishop responded.

“You got it! See ya later, Bishop.”

Watching the truck pull away, the Colonel grunted. “Irrigation? Work crews? Melons? Do you know what 90% of the country’s population would give to hear those words?”

The two men continued their wa
lk. “Sir, that man owned a junkyard full of old oil field pipe and equipment. Terri came up with the idea to recycle it. We do a lot of recycling. Look, over there,” Bishop said pointing to a nearby home.

They paused, watching a woman carry a bucket to her garden. She tossed what appeared to be table scraps onto an unplanted section and then started covering the organic material with a hoe. Bishop continued, “We don’t waste anything. See those goats over in the park. They keep the grass down. They are milked daily and someone gathers the manure twice a week to be used as fertilizer.”

Shaking his head, the Colonel responded, “Amazing. I can hear the pride in your voice, Bishop, and I don’t blame you.”

A few minutes later
, the two men arrived at the courthouse and found Diana and Terri inside working with a group of people who wanted to reopen Alpha State University next summer. The meeting was just breaking up when Terri noticed the Colonel and immediately rushed to hug the embarrassed man.

“Colonel, oh my goodness! How long… when… I
am so surprised to see you.”

“I’m sorry to just drop in, Terri. I was just explaining to Bishop that my visit was mostly business, not pleasure.”

A serious look crossed Terri’s face at the man’s words. “Well, let’s go to my office and you can explain to me what’s going on.”

“In summary, the federal government is looking at your activity and growth with an eye toward skimming food, energy, personnel
, and other assets. Words like ‘society equality’ and ‘redistribution’ are being used again. My mission is to find the facts and report back,” the Colonel finished.

Bishop was in shock, the audacity of the entire affair overwhelming his sense of right and wrong. Diana seemed to be in a similar state. Nick was difficult to read.

Terri was no-holds-barred angry, the pressure rising higher and higher as the Colonel divulged more and more details. Bishop was glad she wasn’t wearing her pistol.

When it was clear the Colonel had
finished, Terri meandered to the window, apparently in deep thought. Turning, her voice was calm and smooth.

“Colonel, are we talking about trade? Do you foresee the federal government offering to purchase our excess resources?”

Smiling, the visitor said, “Perhaps, but that’s not how I would see it going down. My guess is some smart cookie would figure out a way to tax your economy.”

Terri shook her head, “
Pfffffft – and what would they do with the money? Seriously, Colonel, we have bank vaults in our towns that are stuffed full of US dollars. We limit the supply to keep the value steady, but the West Texas Alliance is sitting on piles of cash. I can send you back to Washington with suitcases full of the stuff, but what good would that do?”

The Colonel smirked, “Not all taxes are paid with cash, Terri. Let me
give you an example; men from Washington could visit your refinery and calculate that your population only needs a gallon of the output per day. The rest could be shipped to other parts of the country as a tax. The same could be done with your food.”

Bishop couldn’t help himself, spitting out, “Bullshit!”

Diana added, “That’s a load of crap, Colonel.”

Terri cleared her throat, her voice remaining calm and collected.
“Colonel, when you and I visited in Bishop’s hospital room, we discussed what you termed, ‘the beast.’ Do you remember those conversations?”

Nodding, the visitor answered
, “I do.”

“During that discourse, you said to me that the only way to control the beast was to limit its size.”

“I did.”

“What I’m sensing here,
Colonel, is the beast has lost some of its girth with the collapse, and now it’s hungry. It wants to begin consuming the juicy morsels it sees growing around it. Would you agree with that assessment?”