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@ Fervid Fables
2024-07-05 20:05:59Charles Lorenzo Jackson, also known as Charlie Jackson, or CJ as his late wife used to call him, sat on a rubber green and white stripped lawn chair whose rubber strips where chipping and whose colors had long faded. The parking lot lights in front of The Home Depot were bright only in that CJ could see his own hand as he raised a glass of bourbon. The crickets of the Georgia night were nearly enough to block out the rumblings of the generator ticking and tacking against the iron hitch behind his RV. He made a toast to his wife, god bless her soul, for that night was the anniversary of her death. After every sip or two of his bourbon, CJ shot sparing looks at the cupcake with a single candle on a fold out table at his side. It was only after he finished his bourbon, lit a cigarette, and smoked that cigarette damn near its butt, that he placed the glowing ember of his cancer stick against the candle and a tiny flame came to life.
CJ swallowed hard to fight back his tears. His hand trembled as it reached out for the cupcake, tears broke the moment he took a bite.
The single whoop of a police siren sounded, and a spotlight flooded the place.
CJ’s eyes widened with a teary glimmer and he tried to block the light with his hand.
“Hey, what’s the deal?” he asked.
“What are you doing out here buddy?” came a voice behind the spotlight.
“What does it look like, buddy?” replied CJ.
“No reason to be in the parking lot at this time.”
“I’ve got no reason to be anywhere else,” said CJ. He lowered his hand and with winced eyes he called out, “Cut them lights out man. We both know I’m the only one out here, no need for that.”
The spotlight went out.
Footsteps approached and utility belts jangled. A radio blared with an indistinguishable voice stating numbers that meant nothing to CJ.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” asked CJ as the policemen loomed over him with crossed arms.
“This is probably not the best place for you to be hanging around old timer,” said the shorter policeman with the shirt that looked like it was two sizes too small. He tightened his wrapped arms about his chest, flexing wildly.
CJ nodded, “Yea, I seen the protests last couple nights. Pretty calm night, tonight.”
“Them protests didn’t make you uncomfortable?” asked the taller cop.
Those two white men in uniform must have known how a black man would feel amidst the protests of late.
“Gentlemen, I’m old enough to have seen this country at different heights of hysteria. It’s hard to scare old black folk like me.”
“That right?” said the small pitbull of a man as he came closer to CJ. “You never answered our question. What are you doing in this parking lot at this time? You planning on robbing the place?”
CJ’s face wrinkled, he shot a look at his RV, then looked down at his seat and finally said, “You ever seen someone prepare to rob a place with a glass of whiskey and a foldout chair?”
The small cop kicked over CJ’s empty bourbon bottle and said, “Looks like you just trying to get some courage to do the job.”
The taller cop stepped in then, “You planning on driving after drinking all that?”
CJ stood from his seat and the cops took a step back. That brought a smirk to CJ’s lips and he shook his head, “I don’t have much to explain to you gentlemen. You hear that generator ticking away, my engine ain’t on. Now I don’t expect you two to be much acquainted with the laws you enforce, but I’d suggest you take a gander at Georgia code title sixteen for what constitutes as a dwelling. At this time, my RV is not a vehicle, it is very clear it is a dwelling. I’ve already spoken to the general manager in charge of the premises and he's let me stay in the parking lot for the night. So, this here ain’t trespassing. It looks to me, you two’s just lookin’ for trouble now.”
The pitbull of a cop took a few steps closer to CJ but the taller one cleared his throat and said, “Tim.”
The short cop stopped and stared down CJ for what seemed like the longest couple of seconds CJ had experienced in quite some time. “I’d be more careful if I was you. It ain’t a good time to be alone in dark places.”
“I’m sure you mean it ain’t never been a good time to be black,” said CJ.
Tim smiled and said with a cocked chin, “No, I never said that old timer.”
On the other side of Augusta, against the river, there was a high profile, yet highly secretive, assembly at the Marriot Convention Center. Suited men and women from across the United States mingled about the ball room during the cocktail hour and most could not help but mention the group of boisterous young men already seated in the back corner.
Sure, they were significantly younger than the rest, and sure, their banter and rant was loud, but what piqued any conversation was how they wore Hawaiian shirts in stark contrast to everyone else’s suit and tie.
Andrew couldn’t help but notice the looks and side winding mouthings that followed as Senators and House Representatives passed his table. He leaned to the young man at his side and said, “Phil, you sure we were invited to this thing?”
“Damn right we were. This movement is nothing without us,” answered Phil.
“You don’t feel like we’re out of place? I don’t know man, I don’t feel right.”
Phil winced and placed a heavy hand on Andrew’s shoulder, “You’ve fought in Iraq, Afghanistan, and all kinds of places in Africa. I’ve seen you keep a cool head in almost any scenario, yet this is what makes you feel uncomfortable?”
Andrew looked around, tugged on his Hawaiian shirt, and laughed as he said, “Maybe if we didn’t look so goddamn out of place, I wouldn’t feel that way.”
Phil smiled and leaned back in his chair, “It’s us out of place fools, who’ll make this possible,” he gestured to the suited men and women in the banquet room. “They are simply the fuel, but we’re the muscle. When this is all said and done, we’ll be remembered as generals and heroes.”
Andrew pointed to his shirt again and raised an eyebrow, “Heroes in Hawaiian shirts?”
Phil nodded and with a huge grin repeated, “God damn right, heroes in Hawaiian shirts. Yes.”
Andrew relaxed in his chair and went back to scrutinizing the adults in the room. Upon closer inspection, he noticed there were more than Americans in attendance. A few Asian men mingled about. There were also a few tall slender men which he assumed were European. His eyes came to the man he knew had invited the boys to the event, a lean man, he could tell was strong even underneath his suit and despite the distance, Andrew could still hear the man’s southern drawl. Senator Beau Davis was surrounded by a few extra nationals who all looked intimately acquainted. He laughed, his political laugh and shook hands in the manner one does when a deal is brokered, heads bobbing, and smiles abound.
Then Senator Davis turned his gaze on the boys and with his chin held high he strut victoriously to the table of renegades clad in Hawaiian shirts.
“Gentlemen,” said the Senator with his heavy southern drawl.
Phil looked to his companions and said, “On your feet y’all.”
Everyone snapped to the position of attention and Senator Davis raised his hands defensively.
“As you were boys. Such decorum is not entirely necessary this evening. We are here to celebrate the cause and besides, there are a few politicians in here who’ve not yet fully decided where their hearts lie in these decisive times.”
The boys relaxed, some took their seats, but Phil remained standing as Senator Davis was primarily addressing him.
“You’ve secured a safehouse?” asked the Senator.
Phil answered, “Sir, we’ve got a safehouse and training grounds. It’s out in the sticks. No one will ever suspect a thing.”
Senator Davis nodded and looked over his shoulder at the extra nationals. “A large store of weapons and ammunition will be arriving in the Port of Savannah first thing in the morning. It’ll take some time to clear customs, but you’ll need to pick it up, discretely, and bring it back to the safe house.”
“Too easy, sir.”
“How goes the recruiting efforts?” asked the Senator.
“Easier than ever before. Like you said, these are decisive times.”
Senator Davis smiled and pat Phil on the shoulder and said, “Yes.” Then turned to the other boys sitting around the table and asked, “How you boys doing tonight?”
There was a mumbled reply as the boys all answered their own version of "Doin’ alright" and Senator Davis came closer to say, “I told Phil you boys should be proud of your movement. Thank you for representing well with your illustrious Hawaiian shirts. You have awoken something in the American people. Something that’s been lying dormant for far too long and it’s about time. Enjoy this night, for there’ll be few nights as quiet as this one in the near future.”
Senator Davis parted from the table and Andrew leaned in to ask Phil, “Was senator Davis talkin’ to those Chinese dudes back there?”
Phil leaned back in his chair and said, “What we are planning here cannot be done without money Andrew.”
“Yea, I know, but I’m not sure the Chinese care too much about our movement.”
“Andrew, this country is already divided. It’s up to us to make sure that division leads to a better America.”
The next morning Phil and his posse sat in Semi-trucks with flatbed trailers at a truck stop just outside the Port of Savannah. Andrew sat beside Phil who gripped the steering wheel tightly and fiddled with his phone in the other hand.
“So, this is the kind of thing that makes you nervous?” laughed Andrew.
Phil smiled and said, “Shut the fuck up. There’s a lot riding on this.” Phil turned on the radio just loud enough to make any attempt at conversation cumbersome.
“President Joe Biden has been in office for just a little over six months and it seems the nation is coming apart at the seams,” came the Dj’s voice. “Look y’all I’m not inclined to all the violence, but maybe its about time we start reconsidering the way things work in this country because right now our government is much too divided to get anyth-
-Phil plunged a finger into the band button and cut the DJ’s voice. After a scanning over a few stations he stopped on the song, Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden and finally stopped fidgeting in his seat.
A quarter past one, Phil’s phone rang, and he put it on speaker, “Hello?”
A woman’s voice came over the phone, “Philip Dalton?”
“Yeah.”
“Containers have been released. You are to retrieve the containers and drive toward your training grounds. You must stop overnight someplace secure. No truck stops. You and your crew must remain within eyesight of the containers and remain armed. Understood?”
“Yea, too easy.”
Phil tucked the phone away in his pocket and said, “She sounded hot.”
He gave Andrew a smile and honked the horn before peeling out of the truck stop. Single file, the semi-trucks rolled into the port terminal to receive container loads riddled with 1.4S orange diamond hazard placards. The paperwork each driver showed the port officer said the containers were destined for a fulfilment center just outside of Athens. That would give the boys enough cover to pick up the containers and make way to Athens without much recourse should they get stopped or have to show paperwork at a weigh station.
As the sun began to set, the convoy of ammo laden trucks pulled passed signs indicating they were back near Augusta and Andrew spoke up, “Should we spend the night here?”
“In Augusta?” asked Phil.
“Yea, we’re supposed to park somewhere secure for the night. We won’t know what’s secure anywhere else.”
Phil nodded and turned onto the off ramp at the end of the Bobby Jones Expressway and slowly turned into the scanty parking lot of The Home Depot and Andrew laughed, “This is what you call secure?”
Phil punched Andrew’s arm and retorted, “You ever seen a Home Depot Parking Lot at night?”
Andrew laughed as he replied, “No, why would I?”
“Exactly. Look how tucked away this parking lot is. Only way your going to see our trucks is if you come looking for them.”
Andrew’s smile went flat as the thought that had been lingering in his head since they retrieved the containers urged him to speak his mind. “Hey man, what’s the deal with all this secrecy?”
“What do you mean?” asked Phil as he backed into a spot in one of the crooks of the parking lot.
“You heard that lady,” said Andrew.
“Yea she sounded hot. What about her?”
“She sounded military.”
“You’re military.”
“Ex-military. But that’s not what I mean. It feels like this is a military operation. Remain armed at all times?”
“Not like we don’t bring our weapons everywhere we go anyway.”
“Yeah, but she gave us an order, Phil. That’s different.”
CJ sat in the front seat of his RV, cranked the motor, and stared off at the cars pulling out of their parking spaces in front of the Home depot. The words of the store manager lingered in his head, just a few hours ago he had come to CJ’s RV and said, “Hey man, some cops came by this morning asking if I’d let you stay here over night.”
CJ shook his head at the store manager’s words and said, “I told them I wasnt lookin’ for trouble. I just mentioned you knew I was out here.”
The store manager raised his hands defensively, “I know, I figured as much. Look, shit is getting crazy in the streets and cops everywhere are wound up tight. I just don’t want you to get hurt. You can continue staying here overnight but consider parking out back, behind the store. Cops never mess around back there. It’s a little further away from the main street too so you won’t hear all the night protests.”
CJ stepped on the accelerator and pulled into the alley behind the Home Depot. The two employees that were out back smoking cigarettes pointed at the RV and shared a few words with one another before stepping up to it after CJ parked.
CJ cursed under his breath and stepped out already starting his speech, “I’ve already spoken to the manager-
-You CJ?” asked one of the employees.
CJ was taken aback and answered, “Yea, what’s it to you?”
The employee smiled and wagged his cigarette, “Nothing, I’ve just always wondered who lived in that RV parked out front man! Never actually seen you. You the one that takes our empty pallets?”
CJ nodded, “Yea, that’s me.”
The other employee shook his head, “How much you sell ‘em for?”
CJ fidgeted with his fingers a bit and answered, “Well, I can manage about two dollars and eighty cents for them. I don’t have anything to repair them with so no ones really willing to pay any higher.”
Both employees whistle and say, “Man that’s quite the turn around for a couple hundred free pallets.”
The employee’s walkie-talkies sound, “Groseman, Tilde, y’all done with your break?”
“Oh shit,” said one employee.
“Hey, we’ll be seeing you CJ,” said the other and they both disappeared into the store.
A few hours later, the store closed for the night and CJ brought out his time worn lawn chair, pull out table, and bottle of bourbon. He filled his glass and placed the bottle on the floor next to him, a pack of cigarettes was placed on the table. It was not until his second glass that he heard the hissing release of air brakes on the front side of The Home Depot. CJ checked his watch; it was well passed closing time. It may have been a driver posting up for a morning delivery, but then came four more hissing sounds and the commotion sparked his curiosity.
He rounded the corner of the store and stayed close to the wall. Young men dismounted the trucks and a approached the truck on the far end.
The driver rolled down his window and said, “Get comfortable boys, we’re staying here for the night.”
There were a few grumblings and one of the boys called out, “I’m starving Phil!”
Phil called back, “Then order some pizza Roy!”
Andrew watched in silence as the others returned to their trucks.
Phil slapped the side of Andrew’s arm and said, “What’s the matter with you man? You been quite as hell the whole way here.”
Andrew shook his head and said, “Is this ammo really for target practice?”
“You still on this? I’ve told you, Senator Davis has established our group as a legitimate unit in the Georgia National Guard. Its unorthodox, but yes, this ammo is for training,” answered Phil.
Roy approached the truck and called out, “Hey Phil!”
Phil called back, “Hey Roy!”
“Man, no one’s delivering right now,” said Roy.
“What do you mean?”
“No one’s answering their phones. I’ve called like five different pizza spots.”
“Get some grub hub or some shit.”
“I tried, man no one is delivering.”
Phil shot a sarcastic look at Andrew and said, “Can you believe this shit? This guy can’t even order food.”
“Naw, man. Something’s not right,” said Roy.
Just then another boy jumped out of the cab of his truck and said, “Hey, turn on your radio! You won’t believe this shit.”
Phil’s eyebrows furrowed and he reached for the radio dial when his phone rang. He took a gander at the screen and tapped the speaker on. “Sir, we’ve already stopped for the night.”
“Are you in a secure place?” came Senator Davis’ voice.
“Yes sir.”
“Sanitize your trucks. There can be no sign you are carrying ammunition,” said Senator Davis.
“I don’t understand, we’ve got paperwork to cover us,” said Phil.
“Sanitize the trucks and call in the rest of your unit to the training grounds.”
“Alright, but what’s going on?” asked Phil.
“First stone’s been cast son. We’re at war, the federal government is our enemy now. If anyone becomes suspicious of you, you are authorized to eliminate any potential threat to our assets. You won’t be able to reach me on this number again. I’ll make contact with you,” and the line went silent.
Phil stared at his phone and whispered to himself, “What the fuck?”
Andrew thrust a finger on the radio dial and the dj’s voice sounded worried, “I knew our country was divided but I didn’t think it could ever boil down to this. The White House just released a statement that, get this, Domestic terrorists have taken over arguably the biggest military installation in the United States at Fort Benning Georgia. Folks, these aren’t domestic terrorists. A couple of rag tag kids with guns can’t just take over a military installation. This is much bigger than that.”
Phil shut the radio off and cursed under his breath again.
“Just for training huh?” said Andrew.
“Shut up.”
“You had no idea this was going to happen, did you?” asked Andrew.
Phil snapped, “Andrew, shut the fuck up. Soldiers never know the bigger strategy.”
“You said we would be remembered as generals. Heroes.”
“This is only the beginning Andrew. Right now, we just need to focus on the mission.”
“Mission? No, I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Nobody forced you to be here. But you are. Sitting in this cab, hauling tons of ammo. You’ve already chosen a side,” said Phil before he pushed open his door and called out to the other boys. “Hey! Peel off those hazard placards from your trucks. Tear up your trucking paperwork and lock and load your weapons. We’re at war now. Anyone stands in our way and we take them out.”
A few boys whooped and whistled, a few others looked surprised by the command, but everyone started moving when Phil clapped wildly and said, “Get rid of those placards now!”
Phil then returned to Andrew and pointed to the door beside him, “Get the fuck out and peel off those placards man. C’mon.”
Andrew clicked his tongue and kicked open the door. As he climbed up the side of the flatbed trailer and reached for the hazard placard on the side of the container, the thoughts of his time in service to the country that had just torn apart at the seams flashed to mind. A year and a half ago, he was excited to return from Afghanistan only to now be saddling the side of a flatbed truck committing treason in the highest degree.
“Hey! Stop,” called out one of the boys and Andrew sprung up from the side of the container.
A few of the boys were pointing to the side of The Home Depot calling out, “There’s someone there.”
One of the boys called out, “Phil, what you want us to do?”
A thought sparked in Andrew’s mind and he hurried back to the cab and said, “Pass me my weapon, I’ll go after them.”
Phil gave Andrew a sparing look, pulled Andrew’s rifle from the back seat, loaded a magazine and pulled the charging handle, chambering a round. “Some of the boys will go with you.”
“Yeah, whatever,” said Andrew as he dismounted the truck and prowled toward the side of The Home Depot. He heard Phil call out for a few of the other boys to follow Andrew, but he had already rounded the corner by the time their charging handles clacked back.
CJ rummaged through his things, he had bought a Glock years ago with the intent to learn how to shoot the thing, but never got around to it.
“It seems every hour, information comes in of yet another occurrence of political unrest. All of this, a direct chain reaction from the concerted efforts of militia terrorist groups around the country taking over federal and state government buildings,” blared the voice coming out of the radio in the kitchenette of CJ’s RV.
CJ cursed under his breath and his forehead slicked with sweat. The pistol grip finally revealed itself amongst a horde of misplaced tools within a red toolbox under his bed and he reached for the magazine resting on the beside table.
“Stop.”
CJ exhaled unsteadily and raised his arms. “I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble.” That sentence was beginning to grow tired on his lips and he raised from his knees.
“Turn around slowly,” said the boy behind him.
A voice echoed from outside the RV, “Andrew, you get him?”
“Yeah, I got him. Stand by, give me a sec,” said Andrew.
Andrew’s eyes beat against every bit of CJ’s person, it seemed something was weighing on him when he spoke again, more calmly this time, “This thing run alright?”
CJ winced, “Yea, she’s old be she run.”
Andrew beckoned, “Pass me the keys.”
CJ hesitated and Andrew grew uneasy, “You trying to get killed, move old man.”
“Yeah, here,” CJ buried a hand into his pocket and threw the keys.
Andrew caught the keys and motioned to the floor of the RV. “Lie down,” he said before he turned to the driver’s seat and cranked the motor.
One of the boys outside retorted “What the fuck Andrew?”
“I’m no terrorist,” replied Andrew as he drew his weapon on the boy outside and fired just as he slammed on the accelerator and the RV peeled out of the parking space.
Gunfire rang outside the RV. The ricochets came like slabs of concrete slamming into the side panels. With every slam CJ covered more of his head with his arms and he yelled, “What the hell is going on? Has everyone gone and lost their minds?”
Andrew looked at the rearview side mirrors and ran over a curb, thrusting the RV through some hedges and out into another parking lot. There he slowed the vehicle to 45 miles an hour and peeled into the main street bound for the highway.
“I’m in a situation I should have never found myself, but lucky for you I was,” said Andrew.
“Why are you guys doing this?” asked CJ.
“I’m not with them anymore.”
“So, who are they?” asked CJ as he slowly rose from the ground.
“Just a couple of boys who thought they could make a difference. There are more people like them across the country and they know who I am. After today, they’ll know who you are too.”
“No, see no one could’ve gotten a good look at me,” said CJ.
“They know we busted out in your RV,” said Andrew.
“I guess you’re going to have to find a new vehicle, then, won’t you?”
“That how you treat the guy who just saved your life?” asked Andrew.
“Looks like you was planning on running anyway. I was just a convenient getaway,” answered CJ.
“History is repeating itself old man and if this civil war is anything like the first one, you may not want to stick around these parts anyway. I can protect you as we make our way north. You got anyone you want to meet? Anywhere you want to go?” asked Andrew.
“I just want to be left alone. I’ll go anywhere I can be left alone,” answered CJ.