Jeanie was stunned. Menlow just stared out the window.
“Do you know what ‘black bagging’ is?” He asked Jeanie.
“No,” she said.
“It’s when the government grabs someone,” Menlow said, “puts a black bag over their head, and takes them away to prison, or torture, or death. It’s what all the teabaggers are worried about and it’s what’s sparking this thing off,” he said. “You know, with the checkpoints we’ve set up?”
Jeanie was thoroughly confused. Menlow seemed to be out there in space.
“It’s been out there for quite some time,” Menlow said, “that Homeland Security thought the biggest terrorist threat was returning vets, conservatives, libertarians, Ron Paul types. You know.”
Jeanie had been to the Homeland Security trainings at the State Auditor’s Office about what to look out for. The “terrorists” in the training materials were always “militia types.” Never Arabs. But Jeanie was still confused. Maybe Menlow had lost it.
“Well, these vets and teabaggers,” Menlow said, still staring out the window, “have been getting stopped the past couple of days at the check points. They don’t know if it’s just a traffic stop or if they’ll be ‘black bagged.’ The Feds can do that, you know? To ‘belligerents’ or ‘enemy combatants’ or whatever…” Menlow just trailed off as he looked out the window.
Jeanie had heard about that. It was the NDAA, the National Defense Authorization Act, but it was only supposed to be used on “terrorists.”
“Yep,” Menlow said, “so when a few of these teabaggers see the checkpoint, they think they’re about to get ‘black bagged.’ So some of them decide they’ll fight it out to the death rather than be taken away.”
Menlow turned around to look at Jeanie and shrugged. “The sad part,” he said to her, “is that the checkpoints weren’t to pick up teabaggers but, now that cops are getting killed left and right, it’s turned into that.”
Menlow turned away from Jeanie and stared out the window again. “A self-fulfilling prophecy,” he said. “A sad and horrible self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Menlow looked out the window at the people on the street. Those poor folks had no idea what was coming. He felt sorry for them, but he was glad he was in the back of a police car going to someplace safe. He focused back on his brief phone call with the Governor.
“The Governor is signing a bunch of executive orders,” Menlow said. “Emergency powers. They had a plan for this worked out some time ago, but no one thought they’d ever have to carry it out.”
Menlow paused and kept staring out the window. Finally, he said, “You know…the cycle is broken. The political cycle. Where the Ds spend a bunch of tax money and then some Rs get elected. Then Ds win, then Rs do, all the while, each side is spending more and more. Maybe at different rates, but spending more. Well, that’s over now.”
Menlow paused and looked out the window some more. Those poor bastards out there walking around, Menlow thought. They have no idea.
“Politics is over,” Menlow said as he turned to look Jeanie in the eye. “This can’t be fixed with elections. That’s a big thing for a politician to admit,” he said with a chuckle. He turned away from Jeanie and looked back out the window.
“We can’t restore order with politics,” Menlow said with a sigh. “Politics? That’s how we got here. It will take something bigger than politics to get things stabilized. Power. That’s what it will take. Power.” He kept staring out the window.
Everyone was silent.
Menlow continued, “The Feds are doing the same stuff. Emergency powers. Some scary stuff. You know the old line, ‘Never let a good crisis go to waste.’ They’re not. They’re going to announce a new civilian law enforcement auxiliary called the ‘Freedom Corps.’ This is like 9/11 times a hundred.”
More silence. Now they were getting on the freeway. Menlow said, “Oh, did I mention that the Southern states are basically seceding? Yep. Everyone’s wondering what the military will do. I wonder about our National Guard in this state. How many will be willing to carry out some of these new powers? Then again, it’s the only way to stop the chaos.” Menlow wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was thinking it: now is precisely the time the state needed a law-and-order Republican governor. He smiled. Power.
Chapter 61
Weenie Uprising
(May 6)
Nancy Ringman had been sent home that morning like all other state employees at the capitol. She couldn’t believe how the state and Feds were letting these right-wing hateful Tea Partiers push everyone around. She knew that the right was responsible for all the terrorism. The corporate media was saying it was the “Red Brigade,” but Nancy knew it was those gun-toting right-wingers. They were masquerading as “welfare protestors” and destroying the city. She hated them.
The rumor mill at her office had already described the new “Freedom Corps.” That sounded like a good idea. It would give people like her, leaders and people traditionally excluded from the “good ole’ boy” system, a chance to help the state restore order. She couldn’t wait to join. She would lead the Freedom Corps in her neighborhood, of course.
That reminded her. The “good ole’ boys” were running wild in her own neighborhood. Ron and Len were turning the Cedars into an armed camp. And Grant Matson had murdered those kids, which was completely unnecessary. Gunfire in a residential area! What were those men thinking?
Nancy hated having to see men with guns every time she drove in and out of the subdivision. Macho. That’s all it was. Some men trying to be macho. She felt the neighborhood gravitating toward them and their guns. She could feel she was losing power.
There was a meeting of the neighborhood association planned for that evening. She would make a stand against the testosterone. If she didn’t do it now, everyone would think guns were the answer to all of this.
When Nancy arrived, she called the meeting to order. “Everyone is so thankful for Ron and Len and the other volunteers, but I have a concern,” she said. “It seems the more guns we have out, the more they get used. Grant, who has apparently abandoned his family, killed three kids and wounded four more. It was horrible. And it wouldn’t have happened without a macho hothead like that deciding to spray the neighborhood with automatic weapons. We need a better way to stay safe because, quite honestly, I don’t feel safe with all of these guns around.”
“I suggest that we have people out observing, but that we call the police if we need help,” she said. “The police are trained professionals.” That resonated with the audience. They had been told their whole lives that life was complicated and to leave things up to the experts.
It didn’t resonate with everyone, though.
Ron asked, “Have you seen a cop lately? One of these ‘trained professionals’ we are supposed to rely on?”
Someone said, “One came out to interview Lisa Taylor.”
“OK, has anyone seen any cops out preventing crimes instead of writing reports about killings that have already happened?” Ron asked. He was not using an angry voice; he was speaking very calmly.
Nancy knew who her enemy was.
“Ron, what about the shooting the other night in Becker Acres?” she asked in a condescending voice, which was the only tone she seemed to have, other than mock sweetness. “There were bullets flying toward us. Is that safe?”
“It’s safer than a pack of thugs with rifles and clubs trying to kill you,” Ron said. “I know a little something about that. Remember? I was fighting them off while you slept.” Ron was pissed that he was even having to make this obvious point.