Authors: K Broas
“I agree with your intentions and even believe in many of the causes you guy are fighting for, but I believe this isn’t the role of government. Thes
e matters are best left to the state without involvement from the federal planners. It’s really about choice. And what says liberty more than freedom to choose what’s best for you and your family . . . as long as it’s not infringing on someone else’s rights.” Mr. Howard challenged.
Isaac noticed the disagreement from the other room. He understood his father’s position on personal liberty and became interested in the conversation.
“Do you mind if I sit in and listen to your conversation? There’s never anything interesting on TV,” Isaac asked trying to sound as mature as possible.
Isaac studied the impeccably dressed man. His thick, black hair lay perfectly across his olive toned skin which enhanced the man’s subtle expressions. Being well over six
feet tall, Sariel stood statuesque among the others in the room. His body and proportions were nearly artistic in nature. Isaac couldn’t help, but notice the only physical flaw Sariel possessed. He had a small birth mark just below his perfectly sculpted jaw bone that looked like a small dove. Isaac was fascinated by the uncanny resemblance. Isaac sat down nearby as the conversation continued.
“I understand your view Mr. Howard, I do. We just think that the moral compass of this country is in dire need of reform. Unfortunately things have slid so far askew
, and our kids can’t even tell what’s right and wrong anymore,” Sariel explained. “Look at the inner cities. Birth rates and poverty are epidemic. In rural areas, drugs plague our school yards. Our children are searching for hope, and we have nothing to offer them.”
Isaac completely agreed with
Sariel’s description of the country’s culture and was convinced his father would too.
“I completely agree. The country’s a mess, but I feel this is due to the disconnection we’ve encouraged from Washington. We’ve enabled poverty through subsidy. We’ve removed the parent from the home through harmful
economic policy. We’ve damaged our children’s hope through a corrupt and centralized department of education. These things need to be remedied by returning decisions to the local level, re-engaging parents, and empowering civic leaders. It will never be fixed though more federal programs,” Mr. Howard said as he focused on Sariel. “Don’t you agree?”
Sariel
fumbled for words, not expecting the conversation to take such a sudden turn. “I hear what you’re saying. I guess we just feel other methods are needed at this time in history,” Sariel conceded.
“I’ll be here in Colorado for another week, but after that I’m back in Washington,” Mr. Howard said. “Feel free to schedule more time if you’d like. I love good discussions about faith.”
Mr. Howard stood and shook Sariel’s hand. “Call my secretary, we’ll do lunch sometime next month,” Mr. Howard offered knowing that lunch would never get scheduled.
As his father got back to work responding to letters from his supporters, Isaac began to feel antsy. “Dad, I’m going to go down to Jason’s room for a while. I’ll maybe
get some dinner with him later if that’s OK,” Isaac said confidently. “I’d like to try that Mexican place on the corner.”
“Sounds good Isaac, but call me and let me know when you’re heading to dinner. If I can get through all this stuff I’ll join you,” Mr. Howard said as he shuffled through his sea of paperwork.
After several hours of teenage conversation, Isaac called back up to the room. “Dad, we’re heading to get tacos, you in?” Isaac asked as he skillfully blocked a dirty sock Jason threw his way.
“I’m sorry Isaac
, I need to stay focused on stuff happening right now. In fact, why don’t you come back? We may need to fly back home tonight,” Mr. Howard said as his voice cracked.
Isaac left Jason’s room puzzled and walked to the elevator to return to the sixteen
th floor where his father was. As he entered the elevator, he noticed two men who worked with his father. Both men were oblivious to his presence as they focused on their mobile phones. Isaac could see something was wrong from the paleness of their skin and absence of expression. When Isaac entered his father’s room, the tension and activity buzzing around him was thick.
“Isaac, pack your stuff. We need to head back to Washington tonight,” Matt, his father assistant, said as he answered his phone. “Paul Howard campaign, can you hold? Isaac I have to take this call, but go ahead and pack your things. Your dad will explain.”
Isaac walked into the bedroom to find his dad talking on the phone with concern dripping across his brow. “I have to go. I’ll see you tonight,” Mr. Howard said to the person on the phone once he saw his teenage son.
“Dad, what’s the deal? We really heading back tonight?” Isaac asked with a confused look on his face.
“Yeah, some things have come up, and I need to be in Washington. The global markets are in a tail spin and nobody really knows why. Just get packed. We’ll talk more on the plane,” Mr. Howard said forcing a smile for his only son.
Earlier that evening the unthinkable occurred. OPEC announced the formation of an oil bourse pegged to a basket of currencies
that no longer included the US dollar. This triggered a global panic as countries fled US currencies. Then ninety minutes later, China announced the sale of their US treasury holdings. In an instant, trillions of US dollars hit the market causing the beginning of the collapse for the dollar. Market analysts and pundits hit the air waves trying to calm the markets already in flames.
Contagion swept across the globe for the next several days as the United States shuttered from the effects. Within weeks the impact was being felt. Food prices skyrocketed as prices for imported goods doubled, in some cases tripled, what they were just weeks before. Gasoline spiked to nine dollars a gallon while motorist fought each other for the limited supply. The country wobbled as markets across the globe suffered severe financial losses. Over two hundred years of American
exceptionalism was becoming unglued in the span of a few short weeks.
Back in Washington, Isaac and his parents spent night after night watching the terror unfold as congress scrambled to develop a strategy. Jobs no longer mattered to a country locked in a collapsing currency and hyperinflation. Civil unrest burned through the streets as families’ struggled to eat. Transportation of goods disintegrated while grocery
store shelves went bare. The gap between the wealthy and poor lost all importance.
“I still don’t understand how this happened so quickly,” Isaac said at a loss. “Didn’t we have a back-up plan?”
Mr. Howard sat with his head hung low. “I’ve been talking about this disconnection from reality for years now. I can’t believe it’s here,” Isaac’s dad said. “We’ve been pushing the limits for decades now. Spending with more spending. It never stops. It was just a matter of time before the world grew weary of our debt. Where’s the Federal Reserve now? Completely in ashes, their board members now sitting in Singapore.”
Days passed by in a blur as people stopped going to work. The price of gas continued to climb as people moved closer to loved ones. One crisp autumn day, the President addressed the nation.
“My fellow countrymen. T
wo weeks ago the United States membership to the United Nations was revoked. It’s our duty to assure our partners across the globe that there remains leadership and dedication to solve these difficult challenges. Tonight congress and my administration have authorized a coalition of force to secure global oil supplies. Great Britain, Germany, France, Canada, and Mexico have all committed their support to the cause. We act unified, not to control access to global oil, but to simply return stability to global markets. We must act together in our efforts. The future of our planet is at stake. Thanks, and God bless us.”
Over the next several weeks, coalition forces moved into the waters off the coast of Venezuela, the Strait of Hormuz, and the areas around the Black and Caspian Seas. The United Nations authorized several resolutions condemning the coalition of force, but the piracy of global oil continued for weeks. Then one fateful night in October it happened. As night fell and the sky above the Caspian Sea became alive with starlight, a lone Russian submarine sunk an American frigate.
This single action began a chain of events that changed the course of mankind. Congress, outraged by the act of war, authorized military strikes along the borders of Ukraine and Azerbaijan crippling the Russian naval access to both the Black and Caspian Sea. Global leaders were enraged with the military escalation and further condemned the policies set forth by the United States and their partners. Diplomacy broke down as nationalism in the Middle East was set ablaze. Anti-Western protest broke out all across the region. Japan, China and India joined forces with Iran, Saudi Arabia and Egypt outraged by the attacks on the Russian border.
As elections were suspended in the United States, rumors of war spread like wild fire. Next, a fleet of French and British ships were attacked in the Strait of Hormuz by Iranian and Chinese war ships. As the sky burned blood red, two thousand nine hundred and seventy-seven people died over the oil needed to fuel mankind’s disconnected existence. Over the next several weeks, troops marched, missiles flew, and people died. The United Nations was helpless as the planet bled.
The awkward double
axle of the tractor-trailer crunched and hissed as it stopped at the US border. Money passed hands as the diesel engine came alive, and the freshly painted logo of “Al’s Chicken” roasted on the side of the trailer. The heat of Arizona splashed on the smoldering asphalt as the tires pressed deep into the soft pavement. A similar scene played out across the defiant country as the steel trucks sped down the highway to their strategic destinations. Six trucks in total were authorized by resolution to carry their payload to different cities. Each city was destined for two tractor-trailers to ensure the mission could remain successful if one of the trucks were detained. Nevada, South Dakota, and Kentucky were the targets of choice for the crippling blow. As the predetermined time was reached, each truck delivered their cargo into the sky.
The United Nations had developed a resolution so deeply cloaked in secrecy that only the leaders of Russia, China, India, and Brazil were briefed. There’d been much discussion among the highest levels of the global elite regarding how to stem the effects of the Western collapse. The strategy had to end the coalition of force, protect oil supplies, and avoid an all-out world war. The way events had been escalating, nuclear warfare was a pressing danger feared by all countries across the globe. The most important aspect of the plan was to avoid American retaliation. This could only be accomplished by launching the weapons from within the powerful country. To restore global peace, America’s need for oil had to be eliminated.
At exactly 1:02 pm, on a cloudy Wednesday afternoon, the rockets climbed high into the atmosphere as the country below struggled to survive. High above North America, the warheads triggered their nuclear arsenal, unleashing a powerful electromagnetic pulse which blanketed the country. In just a few nanoseconds, the great and powerful United States was returned to the Stone Age.
Isaac sat in his living room, deeply focused on the horrible images that played across his television set. War raged on as the United States was again proving its strength and determination. As the news broadcast went to commercial, Isaac stood to get a glass of water. Before he could leave the room, colorful images caught his attention as they splashed across the television screen.
“Hot,
cheeezy, pizza,” the low sexual voice proclaimed. “Four toppings of your choice, just $18.99.” The screen was plastered with melting mozzarella cheese and rich zesty tomato sauce which oozed out along the buttery garlic crust. The TV voice commanded, “Call now and get a free order of Cinnabread with each…”
At that instant, the television set went black as terrible pops and zaps shattered glass all around his home. Fire danced out from behind his television, as the screen warped and quivered, melting from the high heat.
“Mom! Fire!” Isaac screamed as he ran into the kitchen. Isaac found his mom standing and staring out the window. Turning to look out the window, he found himself wondering how the fire in the living room had somehow spread to the telephone poles outside.
Cars were stopped dead in their tracks
as white puffs of smoke crept out from beneath their hoods. Isaac stood confused by what he was seeing. He took his mother by the hand and walked out into the front yard. They both remained silent as they watched the afternoon sky. Cascading waves of metallic rainbows swirled around the ionosphere powered by heat and fire. Among the display of color, sheet lightning crackled across the heavens as it became hell on earth.
Chapter 5
New Providence
The breeze caressed the stiff cotton hanging along the backyard line. Sunlight blurred the images that played among the laundry. As the cottonwood tree shed its summer rai
n, the smell of grass was thick consuming every sense. A steel bird flew along the horizon leaving pillows of white against the sea of blue. A child laughing: jumping, falling, giggling, head buried deep among the green blades – rolling together. The ocean: misty, sandy, salty – soaking in warmth. The two half sleeping – skin touching. Distant memories collect mosaic patterns of soft sadness – unrealized joy. Faces, clouded by regret, colors spin, reaching, hand in hand… a child.
“Hope…
Hope…,” whispered Faith. “Hope, wake up. We’re leaving soon.”
It had been six days since Thomas walked away and almost a month since Julian had passed. Hope was empty. She pushed along without purpose or meaning, like
an autumn leaf in the winter wind.
“You still need to get your stuff together. Gabe is out getting food. When he gets back we need to go. Do you need help packing?” Faith
asked as she sat next to Hope’s tired soul.
“I’ll get my
stuff. I just need a few things,” Hope said as she clung to the couch like a stone in the river.
Hope stood up and lifelessly walked to the back room.
Once in her empty room, Hope placed the fine leather case containing the assorted thread and needles she had been given just the day before on the cold bed. Helen and Cal gave her the gift once she said her good-byes to the dear couple. Looking pale and thin, Hope began to clear the tattered clothing from her closet with eyes full of despair. She laid her clothes neatly on the bed next to her father’s guitar trying to piece together strength and ambition for the journey ahead.
Hope walked back into the living room to collect the photos from the wall. Julian…
she thought to herself as the tears pooled in her eyes. She took the memories, all she had left, and carefully placed them inside a small canvass bag to protect her baby from the ravages of the world. Walking back into the bedroom, Hope collapsed to her knees and painfully crawled deep into the closet. Retrieving a small shoebox, Hope sat back against the bed. She opened the frayed box revealing three small frames. Her face, full of pain, brightened for a moment as she gently slid her finger across the images she had hidden away. Hope joined Faith at the front door.
“I’m ready to go,” Hope said as she pushed this chapter of her life into the past.
Gabe returned with the meager supplies just in time to catch the horse drawn wagon going east. As they slowly lumbered down the decaying highway, Hope looked back at the life she was leaving and then went back to sleep.
It took four days to travel the two hundred miles to New Providence. As they reached the outskirts of town they saw lush gardens speckle and weave among the pearly white buildings. The crumbling asphalt road they’d been traveling on had been pulled away and replaced with beautiful white quartz from the quarry ten miles away. A small river slowly passed through the center of town. Clean and clear, the water slid along its immaculate bank. Cutting through the lush surrounding fields, a railroad track sat in the distance. It appeared from behind the hills and crossed
the river as it came into town. Getting closer to town, Hope heard music playing in the distance. The arrangement of rhythm and tone were exotic and new to Hope’s seasoned ears. The beautiful sound welcomed the tired and weary travelers.
As their wagon made its way down Main Street, the people of New Providence smiled joyfully as they passed. The town was alive with people full of optimism. With his arm around Faith, Gabe noticed people sitting together sharing their lives.
Along the meticulously groomed road sat many different stores and places to eat. In the center of town stood a building torn from the pages of Greek history. Made of a highly polished white material, the building appeared to be marble with specks of pink and green sparkling in the afternoon light. In large letters, perfectly carved above the towering oak doors, it spelled “New Providence City Hall”. Sitting outside the permanent structure, several men sat together engaged in a lively conversation. Although the words could not be heard from the distance, Faith and Gabe could tell they were talking politics and current events as men often do. Arms waving, voices raised, these men were laughing and enjoying life, sipping their drinks and enjoying each other’s company.
Their wagon slowed to a stop in the town’s central square. As Hope, Gabe, and Faith stepped out of the wagon onto the crunching quartz ground, they could feel
the surrounding possibilities. They watched as a small, beautiful young woman crossed the plaza.
“Hello friends. How do you like this sunny day we’re having?” the petite young woman asked. “My name is Joy
Yamabuki.”
“Yes…
it is gorgeous today and so is this town,” Gabe said reaching his hand out to greet Joy.
“Is this the first time you
have been here?” the cheerful young lady asked.
“I once came through this way years ago, but it’s changed so much since then,” Faith said as she put her arm around Hope’s lower back.
“My name’s Gabe, and this is my wife Faith and our good friend Hope,” Gabe said as he picked up the scent of roasted meat in the air.
“W
ell it sure is nice to meet fellow travelers. I passed through this way three years ago and loved it so much, I never left. I work over at the Mercantile. If you need anything at all, just come give me a shout,” Joy explained. “Well, I better get back. My break is over, and I have many things to get done still today. Nice meeting you guys.”
As Joy walked back to her corner of town, the tired and hungry travelers
noticed the bounce in her step. Joy was a cute little thing with beautiful, black silky hair and perfect beige skin. Losing her parents during the great collapse, Joy was now twenty years old. She struggled in the aftermath, floating from town to town until landing in New Providence. She arrived in the midst of their great restructure and the drafting of their “Law”. She fit in perfectly with her bubbly attitude and desire to always help out. The town’s people loved her as much as she loved them. As the town rebuilt, their community evolved with a strict and dedicated adherence to their founding documents. It was these guidelines and principles put forth in the Law that defined who they are and how they live.
“What is that amazing smell?” Gabe said trying to co
ntain his excitement. “Is that beef?”
Hope looked up and mustered a shrug. “Where
are we staying?” she asked as she walked out into the plaza.
They walked along the street, watching the pleasant people live their lives. As they passed by the unfamiliar faces, Hope noticed the sound of steel on steel. She looked across the street to see a blacksmith busy with his craft. He was standing with his shirt off trying to cool himself in the summer air. He was dirty and muscular with a simple purpose to his work. Feeling Ho
pe eye’s, studying him intently, the man looked up and gave a friendly smile.
As they reached the end of the street, they found a small hotel. It looked a
s if it had been recently built with fresh white paint and beautiful hand carved shutters. A couple of tables sat out front with a coffee pot and ceramic cups close by. Gabe, Faith, and Hope walked in feeling like sailors stepping on to dry land.
“Do you have any rooms available?” Gabe asked as he retrieved the small sack where he kept his coins.
“Sure do. Just the one?” the employee asked looking at the filthy travelers.
“One will do it. He
y where would you go to get dinner in this town?” Gabe asked.
The older man smiled showing one graying tooth. “Well, Nancy cooks up some real nice pies, but if you’re
looking to eat-eat, I’d go down another block to Nikos. Great soup there, but you better hurry. Dinner ends at seven ‘round here,” the man behind the desk explained. “Room seventeen,” the man continued.
As Gabe handed the man two small silver coins, he waited fo
r the man to hand over the key. “Hmm, the key?” Gabe asked noticing the employee’s oversight.
“No keys needed. The door
’s unlocked,” the smiling man answered as he went back to his book.
“…B
ut I would like to lock the room. All our stuff will be in there,” Gabe replied in protest.
“No need for locks here. You
r stuff will be safe,” the man assured them.
After dropping off their belongings in the room, they re-emerged onto the street. “
Well, let’s get some food,” Gabe said as his stomach growled its approval.
Upon finding Nikos, the three sat and ate a large meal of roasted beef, fresh fruit, and the most delicious bread and butter, allowing them to forget for a moment the difficulty of life and the struggles behind them.
Over the next several days, the travelers settled into town. Hope found a job working at the mercantile as a seamstress. She quickly became essential to the business due to her skill and precision.
Gabe joined the public farmers who worked the gardens arou
nd the whitewashed town. All the grains and vegetables grown in New Providence were delivered to city hall to be divided among the town’s people. He earned a specialist wage since he had been a farmer before. Faith took a job at the local schoolhouse teaching second graders simple arithmetic and to read and write. The town ran like clockwork, and the three felt at home among their new found neighbors.
“So how are you settling in?” Joy asked Hope as she completed the last stitch on one of her many rain jackets she was repairing.
“We’re doing OK. I feel a bit like a third wheel staying with Faith and Gabe at the hotel, but it’s OK I guess,” Hope answered still trying to forget Julian and Thomas. “It’s been five weeks now, and I’m still living out of a suitcase.”
Joy smiled tenderly and put her hand on Hope’s shoulder. “Yea
h, that would be hard. So tell me Hope, how are things out west? I hear they’re starting to re-build the rail line. Is that right?” Joy asked with innocent brown eyes.
“It’s nothing like here. Everyone was for themselves back west
, and it was hard just to find enough to eat. You guys have so many things rebuilt like electricity from the solar panels, the railroad, and the shipments of food. We were surprised to see running water when we came to town. That’s amazing! I can’t imagine going back to pumping and hauling all that water,” Hope replied.
The town of New Providence was nearly destroyed four years ago. Like the rest of the country, infrastructure and city services completely broke down. Many of its people relocated to
Topeka hoping that the Federal Government would step in and provide structure and order. The help never came. It was a time in man’s history that will stain memories for generations to come. Many people died from starvation while lawlessness ran wild. Unable to work, men could no longer provide for their families and became desperate. Looting, theft, and murder became the norm as law enforcement disappeared. Prisons were opened and gangs formed ruling the land unopposed. After the first year, even these gangs dissolved from fighting each other and their lack of community. They ended up forming small tribes of degenerates who were mostly eliminated by honest, hard-working people.
During this time, a core group of men and women founded New Providence. They saw the chaos and pain all around them and committed themselves to building something better. With ideals for community living and an understanding of theology and religion, they created the Law. It was under this strict structure that things began to improve. By quickly removing those who wouldn’t conform, the town began to act as one. They began to farm, producing enough food to sell even after feeding their population. They also began to build, creating things other people needed. This built their reputation as a powerful center for trade among the region. With this reputation established, they acquired the materials
they needed to rebuild their lives.
“When you came into town
, I saw you carrying a guitar. Do you play?” Joy asked while completing an order for fifty pounds of seed and another hundred gallons of fuel.
“My father and I used to play almost every night. It was time we spent tucked away into the night,” Hope said
as she gazed off remembering those special times. “He taught me so many things, but all I remember now is the playing.”
“My mom and dad were wonderful, but they never spent time like that with me. They s
aw me as their doll I think,” Joy explained leaning her to the side and smiling a bit. “Don’t get me wrong. They were great parents, and I loved them very much, but I don’t have memories like that.”
Hope stood up and grabbed another shirt she needed to mend. Carefully selecting the matching thread, she began her meticulous work.
“So did you spend much time with family?” Hope asked wanting to know more about Joy.
“Not really. We had family in Seattle, but
I only saw them a couple times a year. Even then it was like we would just get to know each other before needing to leave again. My dad was one of those computer guys so he worked a lot and took calls most of the time. He worked hard for us so we didn’t see him much. My mom and I hung out the most, but with school and friends, a kid disconnects. I miss them so much,” Joy replied smiling as she remembered.