He hugged the opposite bank as they passed the wide sandbars just beyond Sibley Lake.  They passed several more sloughs and bayous before abruptly turning to the east.  He slowed to an idle and eased through a wall of dense brush.  Beyond was a narrow slough, invisible from the other side of the foliage.

They crept along in an eastwardly direction for several hundred feet.  As they rounded a sharp bend, Clay killed the motor.  Moses perked his ears and listened for the sounds of any interlopers.  Nothing but the sounds of the swamp could be heard.

After they were both satisfied with their solitude, Clay silently trolled deeper into the swamp.  They continued on for several hundred yards.  Finally, they drifted into a thick growth along the water’s edge.

Clayton plundered through his dry box until he found his coyote call. He licked his lips and brought the call to his mouth.

“Yip yip, hoooowwl!”

Clay sat in silence for several moments.  Moses stared curiously at him all the while.

Again, he called, “Yip yip yip, hoooowwl!”

Finally, not far ahead, something called back.

“Yip-yip, hoooowwl!”

The howl made Moses anxious, but to Clay it was a welcome relief.  It was the sound of another successful delivery.

“Come on Moses, let’s go see our friends.”

Chapter 11

William

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

The riot police tried to contain the restless crowd, but it becoming rather obvious that the protesters had come in search of trouble.  The radicals were milling about Independence Park and clustering in small groups.  They restlessly listened to different speakers discuss varying topics ranging from what to do if you get arrested, to the weak points in a riot gear uniform.  The day was perfect for the event; the weather was mild and the sky was clear.  The turnout was larger than even the organizers had expected.

Independence Park was over 55 acres. It housed Independence Hall, the site where the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were fiercely debated and ultimately adopted.  The hall was built in the 18th century, and was the original home of the Liberty Bell.  The site was chosen as the rally point for the protest mostly because of the historical significance and the size of the area.

The park was also chosen because the buildings that surrounded it were despised by many of the agitators in attendance.  The Philadelphia Mint, the National Museum of American-Jewish History, the Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia and the Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit all towered over the park.  WHYY-TV was also just north of the site, so William’s event was certain to receive plenty of media coverage.

The area of the park that they had decided to occupy was slightly larger than five acres. It was bounded by Arch Street to the north and Market Street to the south.

William was hiding in Christ Church Burial Ground.  He was in full disguise: a hoody, ball cap, gloves and sunglasses.  He did not prefer the company of his acolytes.  Most of them could not even articulate what they really believed in.  He supposed that was well enough, as long as they would help him accomplish his goals.

He sat alone in the walled cemetery on a solitary bench and stared at the headstones of men who had been dead for hundreds of years.  He despised the values of the men that rested here, but he grudgingly admired their accomplishments.

The men in the ground around him helped mold an entire continent nearer to their heart’s desire.  If he should be so fortunate, he might one day mold it again.  If the world was to be remolded, it would take a hot forge and a stout hammer, and perhaps a little help.

William knew he was not a good person, but he believed his goals were noble enough, perhaps even admirable.  In his society one would not be allowed to be poor. One would be forcibly fed, clothed, lodged, taught, and employed whether they liked it or not. If it were discovered that they had not character and industry enough to be worth all the trouble, they might possibly be executed in a kindly manner; but while they were permitted to live, they would have to live well.

As long as the mementos of the past still endured, there would be no societal evolution.  As long as the names of the men and the documents they forged could still be remembered, there would always be those who would resist him.  The past would have to be destroyed, or the population would have to be made to forget.  Ignorance was indeed strength.

Back at the park, a crowd was starting to gather around the main stage. William was scheduled to address the throngs shortly.  The main stage was centrally located and faced south towards Independence Hall, affording him a commanding view of his disciples.  The large speakers that rested on the stage were playing “Ohio”, and feeding the angst of the attendants.

A line of protesters along Market Street were hurling insults at the police.  The officers stared back in stoic opposition.  A steaming cup of coffee flew over the heads of the front-line agitators and exploded on an officer’s helmet.  The man roared and leapt forward, but his companions grabbed him by the back of his uniform and jerked him back in line.  The radicals erupted in loud jeers and catcalls that only served to escalate the tension.

One defiant youth leaned forward within inches of an officer’s face and began to berate him relentlessly.  The crowd cheered him on as he continued with his audacious tirade.  Chants began to arise from the crowd and the youth stepped back and joined in the chorus.  The officer exhaled deeply and regained his composure.  It was going to be a long day.  Suddenly, the speakers thundered with the sound of deep bass beats. William would be onstage soon.

The mob squeezed in closer to the stage in anticipation of his appearance.  It had been several weeks since he had spoken at an event.  The crowd erupted in cheers as he emerged.  The beats reached a climax as he stopped at the center of the platform.  The music abruptly stopped as he thrust both arms skyward.

Their enthusiasm empowered him.  He could feel their energy coursing through his body with electrifying intensity.  He was a fiendish parasite and they were his oblivious hosts.  He grabbed and spoke.

“Greetings, Philadelphia.  I’m so glad you could make it to our little soiree.”

The crowd roared with approval.  He allowed the applause to resonate until it naturally subsided, before continuing.

“I won’t keep you long, Philly.  I know you didn’t come here for a lecture.  You came here for some action, or perhaps reaction.  I know I certainly did.  I’ve been watching you, and the time for talk and weak-handed protests in this city is long past over.

I’ve watched as your leaders have stood idly by while your families starve in the streets.  They can afford to send out thugs to evict you and your children from your homes, but they can’t afford to feed your hungry?  How long do you have to suffer while they sleep comfortably in their beds with their pampered families safely down the hall?  Is this what you expect from your city?  Is this what you expect from your country?”

“No!” The crowd roared back in unison.

He questioned the crowd acrimoniously, “No?”

“No!”

“They fly their war toys – their drones – over your city like you’re rats.  Vermin!  Detritus!  Waiting to be tossed out!  They follow your every move and question your every motive.  ‘Papers, please!’ they demand.  As if you owe them anything!  What do you owe them?”

“Nothing!”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing!”

“If they don’t approve of your actions, they kick down your door and assault your freedom – that is, if you even have a home anymore.  For the rest of you, they raid your tent cities and beat you like animals.  Is this what you expect from your city?  Is this what you expect from your country?”