The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga (24 page)

"The team leader decided that an example needed to be made—we’ve had reports that the neighboring farms were just as opposed to your administration as the farmer who killed our people.
 
So the team leader executed summary judgment upon the family."

"Wait, upon the family?
 
Not just the farmer?"

"During the on-scene interrogation, the team leader discovered that the family was almost as rabidly anti-government as the farmer.
 
He deemed—and I agree with him—that the best course of action was elimination.
 
It would not only set an example for farms in the immediate area, but it would spread the word that anyone who kills federal agents will lose more than just their own life.
 
Disloyalty will be punished.”

Oh, my God…
 
The President put a hand to his forehead and sighed.
 
"The Press is going to find out about this—someone's going to talk.
 
I need the details.
 
Who was in the family?"

Jones looked off-camera.
 
He lifted a paper and began to read.
 
"Let's see here, looks like one Mr. George Dunbar: male head of household.
 
Female head of household: Elizabeth Dunbar and three children.
 
Allison, George Jr., and Marianne.
 
Ages are as follows: Mr. Dunbar, 59, Mrs. Dunbar, 56.
 
The eldest child was 17, the other two, 16 and 12."
 
He read the names and ages as if he were reading the baseball scores from the previous day’s sports page.

The President snapped his pencil in half.
 
"Jesus Christ, you let your people slaughter apple pie Americana.
 
Mom and pop and three kids!
 
Teenagers
.
 
A 12-year-old?
 
I can't believe I'm hearing this!"

"Mr. President, the team leader assures me that when they breached the house, the children attacked his team with knives and—"

"Wait.
 
Stop right there.
 
This team leader, what was his first course of action?
 
When did they kill Mr. Dunbar?"

Jones looked at his paper again.
 
"According to the report, sir, the team leader dispensed summary judgment upon Mr. Dunbar on the front porch.
 
Mrs. Dunbar they found just inside the front door.
 
The children were coming down the stairs and were already armed."

President Barron shook his head.
 
"Don't you get it?
 
What would you do if some armed thugs showed up at your house and murdered your parents right before your eyes?
 
What would you do if they kicked in the door to your house?
 
Would you stand there and cry or would you go after them with whatever you had on hand? "

Jones’s face was unreadable, set in granite.
 
"The children attacked the team leader and under the rules of engagement—"

"Which he made up on the spot—" Barron said.

"Indeed.
 
Under the rules of engagement, they had been attacked and were forced to return fire to defend themselves."

"Good Lord," muttered Barron.
 
“’Return fire.’
 
Can’t you hear yourself?
 
What fire were they returning against kids armed with kitchen knives?”
 
Barron shook his head in disgust.
 
“People loyal to me, gunning down teenagers."
 
If this had happened just a month ago, there would have been hell to pay: accusations, inquisitions, subpoenas, Congress hearings—the end of the fucking world.

A small voice in the back of his head asked quietly:
But now?
 
There are no hearings in Congress—there's hardly even any Congress left.
 
I make the rules, my people enforce them.
 
I answer to no one now.
 
Except Reginald.

Who will you answer to for Atlanta?

A line had to be drawn, or Jones and his goons would run rampant across the country he meant to rule.
 
"I'm instituting an immediate moratorium on these loose rules of engagement that you've allowed, Tennyson.
 
I don't like this.
 
Going after the farmer was one thing," said the President, “gunning down his wife and children—"

"They also burned the house to the ground," said Jones.

The President closed his eyes.
 
“Tennyson, these barbaric tactics must stop.
 
The only thing accomplished here will be the complete loss of those that lived around this poor family.
 
Any of them that were even close to being on the fence about which side to join—I guarantee you, will have just joined Harris."

"Then we will root them out as well, sir."

"Don't you get it?
 
These heavy-handed tactics will drive more and more people into Harris’s arms.
 
If you go and wipe out five other farms, ten more will join his side.
 
No.”
 
The President stood and slammed both hands on his desk.
 
He leaned into the camera.
 
“I'm ordering you to stop this right now.
 
Our other tactics, the re-education camps, the splitting up of families—I'm also not at all comfortable with all that—but at least no one is being executed, for Christ’s sake.
 
Walking in there and burning down the house and slaughtering five people—five Americans—is
not
going to solve our problems.
 
Furthermore, I want this team leader reassigned back to your headquarters.
 
Whoever this person was, they are no longer to be out in the field until I say so.
 
Am I clear?"

"Understood, sir.
 
Might I add—"

"You may not.
 
I am the President of United States.
 
You work at my pleasure—when I ask you to do something, I'm telling you to do it my way or I will damn well find someone who will.
 
I ask again: am I making myself clear?"

Jones stiffened as if slapped.
 
"Absolutely, sir.
 
It won't happen again Mr. President."

"See that it doesn't.
 
Harris will have a field day with the Press when this gets out.”
 
He shook his head again.
 
“Jesus Christ…”
 
He took a deep breath and counted to ten, not caring if Jones had to wait.
 
“Now," said Barron, when he was good and ready to move on to the next topic, "I've heard some good things about that other program that you instituted—what's it called again?"

Jones cleared his throat.
 
"Yes sir, the Look The Other Way program."
 
The man smiled again and confidence reappeared on his face.
 
"I'm quite proud of this one, sir.
 
We have replaced many of the municipal police forces across the United States with people that we have screened and found loyal to you.”

How the hell did you have time to do this in the last two weeks, Reginald?
 
A sick feeling filled Barron’s stomach.
 
You planned this all along
.
 
How many years did it take to get the right people in just the right positions of local authority all across the country, just waiting for this day.
 

“—outright fired anyone or forced anyone to leave, but we have made it abundantly clear that should people loyal to Harris remain in their positions, my men and the loyal citizenry will make their lives extremely difficult.
 
Most have seen the wisdom of retiring and heading home.
 
We only had a few instances where sheriffs in Georgia and Florida decided to buck the trend and turn our people away."

"Did these sheriffs receive summary judgment like the Dunbar family?" asked the President, acid on his tongue.

Jones swallowed, displaying more than a hint of unease.
 
"I made sure that these dissenters were taken care of quietly, sir.
 
It won't do to have people in positions of civic authority—especially the police—openly opposed to your rule.
 
I have teams that have been put together from people with certain skill sets—ex-private contractors and corporate espionage personnel—who have demonstrated their ability to remove problems from the equation without causing a scene."

President Barron didn't know which method he hated more.
 
The open murder and destruction of private property in the case of the Dunbars, or the middle-of-the-night snatch and grab of sworn law enforcement officers.
 
Both methods were repugnant to every tenet of the Constitution, but at least he saw the wisdom of removing armed authority figures from the situation.
 

Jones was right.
 
It wouldn't help things to have sheriffs riding around town, openly supporting Harris under color of the law.
 
The local civilian population would probably side with whatever example the authorities set and they certainly wouldn't take kindly to a Federal agent trying to take over.
 
However, Jones would be his fall-guy no matter what happened, so Barron decided to roll the dice.

"Very well, this program can continue—what kind of results are you seeing?"

"Quite impressive, sir.
 
We discovered that people who were not openly hostile to each other over their loyalties were much more open to the idea of the police selectively enforcing laws against dissenters.
 
The police show up for anyone loyal to you, but calls from people marked as dissenters go ignored.
 
We’re making slower progress with fire departments, however—there are a decent number of departments in the country that seem to be more loyal to Harris.”

“How do you plan to get around that?
 
Kill the local fire chief?”

Jones did not rise to the bait.
 
“If a house is on fire, sir, the fire departments are still showing up to do what they can, no matter who’s property is burning.
 
However, we've been seeing some help from loyal civilians.”

“Explain,” ordered the President.
 
This ought to be good.
 

“When houses, buildings, or businesses that belong to dissenters happen to catch on fire," Jones said in a voice that suggested the fires he mentioned were not entirely accidental, "sometimes the fire department simply can't get to the scene.
 
A couple times there have been protests that blocked their route.
 
In a few instances, the citizens themselves formed human chains across the street to prevent certain fire departments from reaching the scene.
 
It's been quite encouraging, actually."

The President was silent for a second as he let the ramifications of the report sink in.
 
"Is it that bad out there?"

"Sir, in some areas of the country it’s much worse.
 
Take Chicago for instance," Jones said lifting up another sheet of paper to read statistics.
 
"We're finding the murder rate and violent crimes have increased tenfold since the bio-weapon attack.
 
Despite the fact that people are falling ill and dropping like flies left and right, there still seem to be plenty of healthy people around to start fights and loot.
 
In the inner cities, it's like war zones—we can't convince anybody to go in there to maintain order, even our own forces.
 
Gangs rule the larger cities.”
 
He dropped the paper.
 
“If we can figure out how they took care of the problem in Texas—"

"I'm fairly certain, despite the fact that we've not been in communication with Governor Veracruz for some time, Texas tends to handle things… differently."

Jones arched an eyebrow.
 
"Indeed, they do, Mr. President.
 
I have Texas marked for special attention when we get the ball rolling in the rest of the nation.
 
My sources in Austin tell me the state legislature and most of the senior executives, including Governor Veracruz, will formally declare for Harris any day now.
 
There's nothing we can do to stop it, but we can make inroads and try to siphon off as much of the population as possible."

Barron nodded.
 
He’d assumed from the start that the conservative bastion of Texas would stay loyal to Harris.
 
The polls and surveys indicated long ago that Denton and Barron would never have a majority of support from Texas, or for that matter in much of the Deep South.
 
Even back during the election, they knew they'd never take Texas from the Republicans and so they had written it off and concentrated their efforts on the rest of the country.
 
He would have to do the same now, until Texas could no longer being ignored.

He made another note on his pad.
 
He wrote, then circled the word
TEXAS
.
 

The President pursed his lips in thought, pencil idly doodling on his notepad.
 
A good number of people down there already had guns and had an independent streak a mile wide.
 
If Texas somehow managed to pull out of this mess and survived the flu, it would indeed be a large thorn in his side.
 
It would have to be dealt with, but not yet.

A soft knock on the door captured his attention long enough to see the door crack open and Jayne's head appear.
 
She wore her hair up in a loose bun.
 
She raised an eyebrow over her fake glasses in invitation.