The Directives (16 page)

The Second Directive - Agriculture

Terri sat in the council chambers, slightly annoyed at the continued droning of the presentation she had endured for the last 45 minutes.

Flipping the handout, she rapidly evaluated the page of graphs indicating the gross food tonnage that would be required once the Alliance had fully integrated the territory formally known as the state of Texas.

“And so you can see our needs will increase exponentially over the next 90 days. The number of individuals under the protection and governance of this body will increase by approximately 9 million, or roughly six times the Alliance’s current population,” the logistics specialist from Fort Hood stated. “In summary, given known conditions and anticipated harvests, there is no foreseeable set of circumstances that will allow for our projected agricultural output to meet that need.”

Thank God
, Terri thought.
He’s finally finished
.  

But the torture wasn’t over yet. As soon as the presenter took a seat, General Owens stood and cleared his throat. “We are facing a huge issue,” the military commander began. “As I understand it, the success of the Alliance here in West Texas can be attributed to an understanding that keeping the citizenry fed has to be a priority. If that same insight isn’t applied to the new territories, civil unrest could erupt, and the entire region could slide back into anarchy.”

Pete spoke first, “What are they eating now?”

The question caught the military men off guard, the two senior officers exchanging puzzled looks. “Sir, I’m not quite sure I understand the question.”

Nick jumped in, “The councilman wants to know what those 9 million people are eating now… today? What did they eat yesterday? I think it’s a fair question, gentlemen.”

Terri lifted her handout and added, “Your numbers do not seem to take into account the existing food supply. This presentation makes it appear that we will have 9 million hungry souls magically appear out of thin air, General. While these numbers are staggering, I don’t believe we’re starting from scratch… from zero. All of those people back in Houston and Dallas have to be eating something today and tomorrow. Where are they getting food right now?”

Owens nodded his understanding. “Right now, the military is drawing down on existing government supplies and emergency military rations, as well as trucking in food from the few productive, rural areas that are operational. To date, thousands of head of cattle have been slaughtered in the surrounding ranges. We have been depleting the bovine population at an alarming rate. Given no outside sources of feed and a lack of veterinary care, the herds can’t be replenished quickly enough to meet the demand.”

“Oh that’s great,” DA Gibson announced, rubbing her temples. “Just wonderful. So what you’re saying is that we inherited all those people right when the food was running out. Perfect timing.”

Terri wasn’t happy either. “Why is this just now coming to light? We have worked for three months to establish our directives. Energy first, followed by agriculture, transportation, security, and communications. An enormous amount of time and brain power went into establishing those priorities, and what I’m hearing today is that we got it wrong.”

“Madam Chairman, command and control of the military zones has been marginal at best. Our teams have only now successfully integrated the hodgepodge of units administrating martial law in Houston, Dallas, Austin, and San Antonio into a unified command. Before now, no one had a clear picture of how critical the food situation had become.”

Terri shook her head in disgust. For a brief moment, she longed for Bishop’s input. That desire was quickly thwarted by additional frustration when she realized her husband had been directed to do a job… a very dangerous job… that was no longer the first priority.

Several conversations broke out at once around the table, small clusters of the military’s representation wrangling the controversial update with different council members as the whole governing body rehashed the news. Terri stood and meandered to a nearby window, the view affording some measure of calm.

After a few minutes of solitude, she pivoted abruptly and raised her voice, overriding the din. “I can’t speak for all of you, but this update puts a tremendous weight on my shoulders.”

The room grew quiet, all eyes turning to watch as she slowly strolled around the conference table. “I feel responsible for all of those people. The women and children… the elderly… all of the survivors that we find suddenly thrust into our care.”

Her eyes moved around the group, making contact with the seated representatives. “But,” she continued with emphasis, “I don’t think we can take this all on our backs. I don’t believe there is anything the people in this room can do to fix this alone. It was the citizens of Alpha, Meraton, Fort Stockdale, and the Rio Grande Valley that allowed the Alliance to succeed. I believe it will be the people of Houston, Dallas and the cities lying in the central corridor of this state that will enable that continued success.”

Most of the council members had seen Terri like this before. She held their rapt attention as her tour of the room ended where she had started. After reaching the head of the table, she continued. “So my proposal is this; I want every vacant lot planted with a garden. I want a rabbit hutch in every backyard. I want any boat still afloat to be designated for fishing. I want to
bus the thousands of unemployed, unoccupied men and women out to the countryside and have a shovel or hoe available for every empty hand. We have a food emergency - so let’s grow food. We have three growing seasons here in Texas. We have 90 days before things get critical. We can handle this, but we had better be burying some seeds.”

Several voices erupted at once, most of them protesting the complex, nearly impossible logistics involved in such an initiative. It was General Owen’s declaration that eventually demanded the floor.

“While that is an extremely noble concept, ma’am, I’m not sure how realistic it would be. Out here, in the rural portion of the state, people have the skills to raise their own food. In the metro areas just east of us, I’m not so sure that is the case. Where would they get seeds? Where would they get the breeding stock? Who would teach them how to grow and harvest?”

It was Pete that responded. “General, we have the people here that can get this started. I’m sure most of our citizens wouldn’t mind contributing a chicken here, a rooster there, or a pair of rabbits. We have
ranches and farms with expertise. What we don’t have is the organization to spread such knowledge, nor do we have the wherewithal to support such an initiative. The only entity that has that in place right now is the military.”

Owens shook his head, “Sir, we don’t have battalions of gardeners. We don’t have platoons of rabbit ranchers. Our average soldier is 19 years of age and volunteered to earn college money. I’m not trying to be obstructive, just realistic. The military doesn’t have the skills to implement such a protocol.”

Nick wasn’t convinced. “General, I know you have extensive training facilities at Bliss, Hood and the other bases. Don’t you have the organizational skills in-house to train thousands of men and women on the latest weapons technology, defensive tactics, and other knowledge of warfare? If the civilians provided the know-how, couldn’t we redirect some of that enormous educational capability?”

The military commander had to consider Nick’s questions for a moment. His ex
pression made it clear he was approaching cognitive overload while absorbing a proposal that would completely repurpose his warriors. “You’re correct in that we can train many people very quickly. I suppose we could just as easily start churning out recruits with the skills to raise goats and chickens as opposed to teaching them to clean a rifle.”

Terri’s voice sounded from the head of the table, “Plowshares,” she said in a low tone that drew every eye. “We’ll beat swords into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks. Just like the Bible says.”

General Owens was still skeptical, his orderly mind trying to sort it all out. “Of course the men under my command will do everything in their power to execute this council’s wishes, but do we really think it will be enough? We have several operations already in progress, and I don’t want to lose the momentum we’ve already established. As we all know, resources are thin.”

Terri smiled at the commander, “I don’t think anyone is suggesting we convert battle tanks into farm tractors, General. But the concept of using the organization, discipline, and infrastructure of the military to implement an emergency program of victory gardens makes sense. The American people have done it before.”

“Digging for victory,” Pete recalled. “That was the British catch-phrase during World War II. Both the US and the Brits had extensive programs for civilians to grow vegetables. I’ve seen the posters, and I can still hear my grandmother brag about raising squash on the roof of her apartment building in Philly. I’ve read that in 1944, half of all the produce consumed in the United States was grown in private gardens; even the urban areas made substantial contributions.”

Diana added, “I don’t see that we have any choice. According to the briefing we just received, we risk losing everything if we don’t do something quickly. A plan to convert firing ranges and combat schools into classrooms for Agriculture 101 doesn’t seem so outlandish given the circumstances.”

“We need every vacant lot filled with vegetable gardens. We need every field planted with something edible,” Terri stated. “I don’t care if we have to build tent cities next to the farms and plant every row by hand. We need action like the Work Progress Administration back in the first Great Depression. We need food, and thousands of tons of it.”

United in their resolve, the council discussed ways to pool its resources to accomplish this initiative, as well as plans to get the new territories to “buy into” the innovative survival strategy. The vote was unanimous to initiate an emergency agricultural program.

After optimistic handshakes, a few hugs and hasty parting conversations, Terri left the chambers exhausted and thinking of Bishop. She knew he’d agree with the change in priorities while at the same time being frustrated with the circumstances.

Her footsteps echoed off the walls as she sauntered along the marble floors of the Alpha courthouse. An unusually quiet morning, she found the sound oddly unsettling, a reminder that the once lively building was now largely empty. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, trying to suppress the doubt that seemed to accompany every major decision. “Leaders throughout history probably felt the vise of isolation squeezing their chests.”

She paused for a moment, peering up at a painting that had caught her eye some months ago when she had first been elected to head the council. It was a large, nicely framed print of Howard Christy’s,
We the People
.

The scene depicted a gathering of the Founding Fathers, constructing the Constitution. Above them were several spirit-like images of common, everyday colonists, apparently overseeing the work being done to create America’s new foundational document.

When Terri had first scrutinized the artwork, her initial assessment had been that the people were watching their leaders closely, intent on making sure the needs of the citizenry were being addressed. Lady Liberty was among the onlookers, depicted in an angelic glow as she observed those great men working so diligently, creating a revolutionary new type of government.

But after studying Christy’s classic a few times, she had changed her mind. The people weren’t overseeing, demanding, or even anxious. They were there to support the men who were framing a new direction for this land - lending their prayers, dreams, souls, and collective goodwill to ensure the
success of those who would ultimately influence the destiny of their new country.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered to herself. “Like those great men working so hard to define the role of government,
you have people willing to do what it takes for us to succeed. We have thousands and thousands of brilliant, dedicated minds all striving toward the same goal. You’ve got it easy compared to the men in that picture, and they made it work. Lincoln and Roosevelt both had problems that make yours seem like child’s play. They overcame. Quit being a sissy and get the job done.”

Her spirits slightly elevated, Terri continued her trek through the hall, turning the next corner where she was greeted by the sounds of playing children, their small voices and laughter uplifting her mood even further.

The nursery door was bookended by Butter and Slim, the two security guards glancing up and smiling as she approached.

Mr. Beltran had insisted both men leave the ranch and join Nick’s security teams after Terri’s election to the council’s chair. “We all have to do our part,” the distinguished rancher had declared. “Both of these men are capable, loyal, and trustworthy. You’ll need folks like these to help rebuild the country.”

“Everything okay, Miss Terri?” the always cheerful Butter asked.

“Yes. Everything’s just fine. How has Hunter’s morning been?”

“From the sound of things, all of the children are having a good time,” Slim responded.

“We need to get going. We have a long trip ahead of us, and the council meeting lasted longer than expected. Are the guys all packed and ready?” Terri asked.