Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds (37 page)

“Why, Nick? Why would someone break into the doctor’s office and steal your records? What possible value could they have?”

His answer came quickly – too quickly. “If my health were poor, that weakness could be used against us both. I think Bishop and Terri were fishing for leverage.”

Not in a million years would Diana have accepted the explanation were it not for the fact that the folder was in Butter’s room, and someone had broken into the doctor’s office. Diana’s headache came rushing back.

“Okay, I need time to think this through. What’s next?”

“We take Butter into custody and try to get him to confess that Bishop ordered him to do the dirty deed. Then we’ll arrest Bishop and his wife.”

“Are you serious? How can you even think like that? After everything we’ve been through together?”

Nick didn’t answer, his attention diverted by the sound of Terri’s voice as she was speaking with Sheriff Watts. A scowl crossed the big man’s face.

Holding up a finger, Nick said, “Hold that thought,” before rushing back to the main gathering. He arrived in time to hear Terri saying, “Release him into my custody, Sheriff. I promise you he won’t be going anywhere.”

“No!” Nick snapped, “I want to interview Butter and get to the bottom of this quickly.”

Bishop stepped directly into Nick’s path, “I have one overriding question for you. Who is the eyewitness that saw Butter leaving the doctor’s office?”

“That’s not important,” came the curt response.

“It most certainly is,” sounded Terri, her words fast and sharp. “Anyone charged with a crime has the right to face their accusers. That’s been a basic right for hundreds of years… or has the paranoia around here gotten to the point where we’re suspending the Bill or Rights? Who is the witness?”

Nick, taken aback by Terri’s assault, briefly flashed his eyes in Chase’s direction.

Bishop saw it.

“You!” Bishop barked, pointing a finger at the ambassador. “You son of a bitch,” he continued, stepping toward the indignant man. “None of this shit started happening until you arrived. I should have killed you that first night.”

Chase didn’t answer, instead reaching for his pistol and drawing the weapon.

Despite the gun pointing at Bishop’s head, the Texan kept coming. “You low-life bag of shit…. You’re in the middle of all this, stirring up trouble for God knows what reason.”

Watts came between the two men, shouting for the ambassador to put the weapon away. Terri was tugging on Bishop. Several deputies rushed in. Chase’s security team, as well as Diana’s, all seemed to appear out of nowhere.

For a moment, it looked like a full-out brawl was about to erupt in the hotel’s parking lot, tempers, fear, duty, and egos flaring in all corners.

Diana, feeling the need to take charge, raised her voice, “People! People! Stop this right….”

The Alliance’s leader’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as her legs gave way, and she crumpled toward the lot. Only Nick’s cat-like reflexes saved her from another head injury.

Chapter 14

Pete glanced at the pile of newsprint, the stack of papers drawing yet another frown.

By pre-collapse standards, they weren’t much, individually or as a whole. Thin paper, cheap, smearing ink, and a few pages per edition, they were hardly worthy of a birdcage’s gutter.

Yet the councilman, bar owner, and brewer knew they were a sign of progress and recovery. Newspapers were communication and an important part of governmental checks and balances. They represented free speech.

All of that was fine and dandy until the press lost its neutrality. Pete recalled a quote by the famous French General, Napoleon Bonaparte; “Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than a thousand bayonets.”

It wasn’t so much that the reporters had turned hostile, or suddenly developed a dislike for the leadership in Alpha. In reality, they were merely relaying the events of the last few days to their readers.

A series of events that Pete was still having trouble comprehending.

Rumors and the retelling of the attempt on Diana’s life had spread like wildfire all across the Alliance’s territory. Even when stated accurately, the news was worrisome to many. When truthful recounts of the “Incident in Amarillo” were lacking, slight exaggerations and misinformation filled the gaps.

It was only to be expected. People were always hungry for information, inaccurate gossip or not. Many of the embellishments sent waves of outright fear rolling through the population at large. The citizens were a nervous mess. Having survived one apocalypse lessened the average person’s tolerance of instability, the unknown, and rapid change. Optimism was declining at an alarming rate.

When news of that incident was followed by headlines of other town hall meetings gone awry, tremors of unrest began to rattle through the Alliance.

Pete picked up a copy of the Dallas paper, the headline reading, “Property Claims Suspended by Unrest in Plano.” Someone had started firing a weapon while standing in line. A woman and her child were badly hurt by the throng’s stampede to escape the gunfire.

Midland Station’s rag was even more troubling. In large, bold font, the words, “Massive Claim Filed by Lewis Oil – Could Bankrupt the Alliance,” stared back at Pete. The story contained few details but was troubling nonetheless. Someone was making a claim for the local oil refinery and all of the product it had produced since the Alliance had liberated the town. That claim was for trillions of dollars.

Every single one of the small, struggling news outlets contained similar stories. Austin’s town meeting had broken down into a swirling pool of arguments and was quickly shut down by the authorities before another riot took place. San Antonio’s mayor had canceled her presentation after several attendees refused to surrender their firearms at the door. It was a pure, unadulterated, hot mess.    

The negative impact of those stories was nothing compared to the near panic that was generated by reports of fighting amongst the leadership in Alpha.

While printed details were sketchy, the quarrel between Bishop and Nick had been publicized as rift based on a difference in politics that had gotten out of control. The article had served little purpose other than to divide readers, some siding with Bishop, others relating with the incumbent’s camp.

Now, this morning’s paper had delivered the worst. Diana had fainted, rekindling conspiracy theories that her injuries were far more serious than originally reported. The Houston Post was calling for the chairperson to step aside, questioning her ability to run the government. The Texarkana Times was calling for Texas to cease its “…failed effort to become an independent nation, and reintegrate with the United States as soon as possible.”

There was more than just the headlines.

Well-worded editorials were carried by many of the fish wrappers, all questioning the Alliance’s government, elected officials, and the direction the fledgling country was taking in general.

The few radio stations in operation were hosting guests that spouted every possible angle of conspiracy imaginable.

Pete had rushed to Alpha upon hearing of Diana’s collapse. Despite being one of the original councilmen and a close friend, Nick had denied all access.

Instead, the head of Alliance security had grilled Pete on his relationship with Bishop and Terri. The questions, really more of an interrogation, had been troubling to say the least.

When Pete had tried to locate his friends and find out what the hell was going on, Bishop and his family were nowhere to be found. Even Sheriff Watt’s lips seemed to be sealed. Not even the old “one cop to another,” posturing had been effective. He could only assume they had retreated to the ranch.

Returning to Meraton, Pete found himself fighting off a growing sense of helplessness. It seemed like everything they’d worked for was crumbling beneath his feet. The council, despite surviving numerous threats in the past, had become dysfunctional. Untrusting. Frightened.

Close friends and trusted allies were now viewed with suspicion. The government’s boldest move yet, the new property law, was causing chaos and unrest throughout the land.

Pete found himself desperately wanting to speak with Terri. He recalled how many times her cool head and perceptive logic had saved the young movement. She always had a unique view, and her creative solutions were one of the reasons they’d made it this far.

Shoving the newspapers aside, Pete rose from his desk determined to find his friends. He knew the location of the ranch. It wasn’t that far. He could drive there in less than an hour.

A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. “Yes?”

The bartender’s head appeared, “Pete, some kid just left a message for you. He said it was urgent.”

“What? That’s odd. Let’s see it.”

Pete was handed a sealed envelope, his first thought being, “What now?”

The handwritten note inside was signed, “Love, Terri.” He began reading it in a rush: As you are no doubt aware, things have gotten a little strange in Alpha. Bishop and I need someplace to hole up, out of sight, but not the ranch. Would you have time to meet us at Betty’s old bed and breakfast with some ideas? We’ll be here the rest of the night.”

Pete set the paper down, mumbling, “Have things degraded so far that Bishop and Terri have to sneak into Meraton and pass secret notes?”

He could remember the day Bishop was given the honorary title of Texas Ranger and the ensuing ceremony. How many times had the couple saved the Alliance and thousands, upon thousands of lives?

Rising from his desk, Pete stepped to the front of the bar and informed the barkeep that he was going out for a bit.

As he drove out of Meraton, he cursed his own paranoia after glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. “I guess it has gone that far.”

The old bed and breakfast hadn’t been occupied since Betty had taken over the Manor. As he pulled in front of the overgrown driveway, Pete thought about the woman he’d one day hoped to marry. Her untimely death during the hurricane in Galveston had been one of the saddest days of his life.

For a moment, he thought he’d messed up and gone to the wrong house. There was no sign of Bishop’s truck or the couple. Pushing down the knee-high weeds as he rolled closer to the porch, Pete saw the Texan standing in the dark, rifle slung across his chest.

Terri and Hunter appeared a moment later, all smiles and hugs. “I’m so glad you came,” she gushed. “It’s difficult to know who is still a friend.”

Meraton’s councilman soon found that Bishop had hidden his pickup in the backyard. The couple had already set up a tent – just in case Pete hadn’t answered the note. Given the gear Bishop was wearing, it seemed as if the Texan was ready for a less than friendly response as well.

After helping the couple load their belongings into his car, their impromptu host chaperoned them to the back of the Manor. “I keep a suite available for visiting businessmen and other guests. I’ll tell the front desk that you two have just arrived after a long journey and shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Bishop replied. “We appreciate your hospitality. We considered hiding out at Betty’s, but there were no supplies there. We should only be in your hair a few days.”

“I owe my life to both of you,” replied the older man. “The entire town probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your heroics. Now, once you’re unpacked and comfortable, I want to know what in the hell is going on in Alpha.”

“You’re not the only one,” Terri replied. “We probably have the same questions as you.”

Two hours later, sitting in an isolated corner of the Manor’s famous gardens, Pete sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “How did this happen? What the hell is Nick thinking?”

“We’re as stumped as you are,” Bishop responded, his voice colored with sadness. “We’re hoping to lay low for a few days and see if things cool down.”

“I was planning to go to Alpha tomorrow. I’ll try to see Diana again,” Pete said. “Maybe she can shed some light and make sense of it all.”

Everyone was tired and decided to call it a night.

As he walked back to the bar, Pete paused and looked back at the Manor. “I wonder where they’ll go if this doesn’t get resolved? I wonder if they’ll take me along?”

The next day was like most at the Manor, relaxing and quiet.

Terri decided to take a chance on being recognized. Wearing her hair in a schoolmarm’s bun and accessorized with oversized, dark sunglasses, she went for a swim with Hunter. Bishop, after numerous “patrols” around the grounds, eventually joined them. His wife thought it was hilarious when he splashed into the pool wearing a disguise that included a frizzy mop head as a wig. Hunter didn’t agree.

Frightened of his father’s creation, the kid wouldn’t go near his dad, eyeing the strange-looking character with suspicion, screaming loudly whenever Bishop tried to approach with extended arms.

Noting that there wasn’t anyone around anyway, the father soon discarded the camouflage so he could play with his son. 

By late afternoon, the Texan was restless, pacing around the grounds. By early evening, he had finally settled in one of the hotel’s numerous rocking chairs, working back and forth at a steady pace.