I won’t lie to you; you’ve been lied to by so many others for so very long.  I don’t even know if it’s possible for us to turn back from this nightmare now.  We may’ve already embarked on a journey that is one-way in nature, at least for our generation.  I pray it’s not too late for our children to see freedom again, and I hope it is not too late for their children.  I know that I don’t have all of the answers, but I do believe the current administration certainly has none of the answers.

Freedom, personal responsibility and charity, what do these words mean to us, as individuals?  As a people?  Have these words been distorted so egregiously, that we’ve forgotten their true meanings altogether?  It was, ‘We the people,’ not, ‘We the centrally-planned governance.’  We the people have the freedom to determine our own fate for better or worse.  We have a responsibility to ourselves, our families and our communities, not some bureaucrat ten states away.  We have a responsibility to the less fortunate than us.  We have a responsibility to support the needs of others through our churches and our civic organizations.  I know that when I give a dollar to my church, ninety cents makes it to the cause I chose to support.  What government dares boast such efficiency and integrity?

There is a very real possibility that, after this election is over, you won’t get any help from the Federal government, regardless if I’m elected.  You have the responsibility of rebuilding your towns and cities.  And it starts in your living rooms with your own families.  You must elect honest, responsible, local leaders to guide your communities’ rebirth.  You must reestablish the rule of law and the sacred rights of property.  This election is not for who’ll govern you in the coming months, but for who will lay the foundation for a completely new government that will emerge in the coming years. It will either dictate to you or be dictated by you.  You have a choice to make; continue on this reckless course or reign in your government before it consumes you whole.

I leave you all with this scripture from Paul to the Ephesians, ‘Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.’  We’re not guaranteed tomorrow by this passage, but we’re guaranteed a life and legacy that is pleasing to the Lord, our God.  Thank you, and Godspeed.”

The crowd erupted with a standing ovation.  Their cheers resounded through the café’s speakers as the senator waved and left the stage.  The clamoring crowd began to wane until Senator Ames reemerged to the sounds of a classic rock anthem.  His encore appearance pressed the people into a fever.  The contagion affecting the group began to infect the café’s patrons; they also burst into a raucous display.  Coffee mugs clinked in makeshift toasts and forks were thrust high in the air.

After a minute or two of pandemonium, the café began to calm.  The mayor arose from a booth that also sat his wife and two children.  He raised a hand and addressed the patrons.

“The man can work a crowd, can’t he?”

Applause and cheers erupted again.

“Don’t get me wrong, he is speaking my language, but let’s not get our hopes too high; he’s still just a man.  Just like the last one, and the one before him, they all sound good until they get into office.  Let us pray that Senator Ames is indeed the man we believe him to be, and we get a final chance to right this ship.  But for now, let’s enjoy the company of the finest people the world has to offer, each other.”

Ch apter 10

Clay ton

Washington County, Alabama

They had been lying in wait for nearly an hour in Hellcat Bayou.  Clayton had passed the time by whispering one-sided conversations to Moses and rubbing his furry head.  Eventually, his loyal friend finally retired to the bottom of the boat for a much-needed nap.  All alone, he lost himself in his own thoughts.

They might as well have been invisible.  Even if it had been the middle of the day, the thick brush would have still concealed them from even the most observant of onlookers.  He patiently watched the narrow wooden pier that extended precariously out from the opposite bank.  The pier wasn’t much, but it still seemed out of place.  They were deep within the river swamp.

Clay reasoned the top of the bank was probably eight feet above the water.  A steep slope led from the crest to the pier below.  Clayton did not particularly like the high bank.  He knew it afforded anyone opposite of him the high ground, and with that, the natural advantage.  Of course, if the situation ever did get out of control, he did not plan to stick around.  Besides, Clayton never left home without a few tricks of his own.

It was not that he expected any problems, he had known these men most of his life.  Times were different now, though.  Friendships were expendable if one’s situation became dire enough.  Still, he trusted Teddy and the deputy.  The arrangement benefited both sides too, so it was in everyone’s best interest to ensure it continued without any complications.

Clayton usually met Teddy Lawson and Deputy Greene once or twice a month.  Most of the time, the transactions were completely legitimate.  He had taken receipt of everything from mail to medical supplies and transported them across the river.  He had even ferried a desperate family to the other side once or twice.

The trips across the river had become very lucrative for Clayton.  It was maybe fifteen miles from the pickup to the drop-off point.  The same trip by land would span over 70 miles, one way, and go as far north as the crossing in Claiborne.  One would have to pass through at least six desperate and struggling towns.  Safety would be compromised from the moment one was on the highway.  There were innumerable bridges that could be barricaded and choke points that could be leveraged to ambush a traveler.  Navigating by water was the only logical option if goods were to be moved from one side to the other.

The rivers and their adjoining sloughs and swamps were mostly void of other vessels, except for the occasional river barge that still shipped heaping loads of coal to the power plants along the river.  Canoes and kayaks could be seen checking trot lines or gill nets near civilization, but the high price of fuel restricted the deep reaches to all but a few motorized crafts.  Sometimes, he would go weeks without hearing another boat on the water.

This delivery was not quite as legal as most, however.  Clay and Moses would be transporting sixty gallons of Washington County’s finest whiskey.  Since Deputy Greene was the brother of Sheriff Greene, Clayton reasoned there was not much to fear in getting caught; especially since much of it was made by the sheriff himself.

Besides, Clayton reasoned, how could the same government that destroyed commerce by engaging in such extraordinarily reckless behavior, now enforce laws that had to be broken just so a basic good could be made available?  At least that was his stance whenever he had to defend his whiskey runs to Claire.  It did not really matter what his stance was though, she won the argument anyway.  He just thanked the Lord she still considered him worth all the trouble.

Clay examined his watch. He should have company in just a few more minutes.

He surveyed the opposite shore with his night-vision goggles and took an interest in the nocturnal ritual of a plump raccoon. He watched as she washed an unfortunate crawfish in the muddy water.  After she finished, she clinched the mudbug in her jaws and scampered up the steep slope.  Clayton noticed several tiny heads peer over the top bank. He smiled as he saw the kits and realized the meal was not for her after all.  She repeated the process several times, returning to the bank to retrieve an unlucky minnow, bullfrog or crawfish.