Charles Sheehan-Miles

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Republic - Chapter Ten

Republic

Charles Sheehan-Miles

Chapter Nine

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CHAPTER TEN

JUNE 17

A week after the events at the plant, Murphy was still reeling in shock. Somehow he’d never expected the violent response, the ready deployment of paramilitary forces. He moved through his days, mailing resumes, filling out job applications, playing with his son, feeling something akin to grief. He’d spent his life in the military. He never thought he’d see its agents used against their own people.

The town was as quiet as a funeral. The plant employees had been released, but the streets were still hushed, some businesses closed. Nine people had died by violence in two days, unheard of in a town only a few thousand people. Murphy and others from the town had driven a convoy to Charleston to bring back the workers who’d been arrested; they returned with horror stories of being crowded into both the county jail and the federal lockup, packed in ten to a cell with drug dealers and murderers. Everywhere he looked, smoldering rage was just under the surface. He’d never seen Karen Greenfield so angry—during the drive back she’d described the cell, with twenty women packed into a ten by ten room with nowhere to sit. One of the women, a junkie, had gone into convulsions, but it still took twenty minutes to get the attention of the guards to get her medical care.

The rest of the country, by contrast, seemed to have gone off the deep end. Stories about anti-government movements and militias flooded the media, focusing on the Sons of Liberty in Baughman Settlement, thirty of whom had been detained by the DHS during their raid the previous week. A tremendous amount of coverage was also devoted to Oklahoma City and the bombing twenty years before. Now that the federal government had squarely pointed the finger at a domestic group, the previous weeks’ violence and suspicion against Middle Easterners passed from the consciousness of the nation, or at least of the national media. Reporters crowded Highview: satellite vans still sat beside the town square, and Murphy’s home phone rang off the hook for three days after the town had tried to take the plant. He’d finally unplugged it. Valerie had his mobile phone number if she needed to reach him.

The DHS and their armored vehicles still occupied the plant. It was an uneasy standoff, and small groups of townspeople, by ones and twos, made their way to the entrance of the plant and put flowers next to the gate, in a makeshift memorial to Dave and Shannon Firkus, Mandy Blankenship, and the others who had died there.

Murphy’s somnolence came to an abrupt end one afternoon a week after the violence at the plant, with a phone call from Dale Whitt, who insisted on meeting in person. The next day, Murphy arrived at Sally’s Diner at noon, irritated that the noxious smell of tear gas still permeated his car. At least he wasn’t planning on reselling it.

When Murphy arrived, Whitt was already there, sitting at a table in the back, hands cradling an oversized mug. The room was not well illuminated, but it was clean and not too crowded today. Folks were staying home and saving money, and all the local businesses were feeling the pinch.

Murphy sat across from Whitt. In the last few days, Whitt had gained celebrity status in Highview. Murphy had seen it in the way people talked about him, in far more respectful terms than they spoke of the Mayor.

“Ken. I appreciate you coming.” Whitt smiled as he spoke.

“Thanks, Dale. You were awful mysterious on the phone.”

Whitt took a sip from his steaming mug, and then replied. “You’ll understand why soon enough, but I’d like to discuss it all together. Can we wait until the Mayor arrives?”

They talked of other things for a few minutes: mostly bad news, businesses that had closed in the county, the string of funerals, and the suspicion they were drawing from the rest of the country.

Then Murphy heard the Mayor’s voice behind him. “Well if it isn’t Mr. Whitt and Colonel Murphy. I didn’t realize you were involved in his scheming, Colonel. How are you two doing today?”

Murphy stood, as did Whitt. They shook hands all around.

The Mayor sat, looking at the two of them with frank curiosity. The waitress approached and they ordered without looking at the menu.

“Well, Dale,” said Machen, “you was pretty hot to talk right away. You want to clue me in?”

Whitt sat back and studied the two of them.

“Mr. Mayor, Colonel, I’m going to ask you both to keep what I have to say mum, understand? Until I can make my announcement in public.”

Murphy shrugged, and the Mayor answered. “Well, I’d have to know what you had to say to make a hard promise. But a man’s only as good as his word, so you’ve got mine.”

Irrationally irritated that the Mayor had managed to give two opposite answers at once, Murphy replied. “I don’t have any problem with that, Dale.”

“I appreciate that. Gentlemen, I’m here to ask for your support. I plan to run for the state Senate in November.”

Murphy and Machen looked at each other. The Mayor spoke first. “Well, Dale, I appreciate you asking for my support, but I have to admit, your candidacy… well, it ain’t earth shattering. Old Man Davidson has been in that seat—God, I don’t even know. Thirty years, at least. You don’t have a chance against him.”

Whitt grinned. “I know. My daddy lost an election against him in 1984. But the way I see it, things is different now. Davidson may be a long term incumbent, but he doesn’t have any passion. The voters vote for him ‘cause there isn’t anyone else on the ballot, or they recognize his name or some such. I plan to give them a reason to vote for me.”

They stopped speaking, and there was an uncomfortable silence as the waitress brought their drinks.

After she left, Machen asked, “And what would that reason be, Mr. Whitt?”

“Gentlemen, I plan to run on a platform proposing that West Virginia secede from the United States.”

The silence after his statement was long. If it hadn’t been for the banging of pots and pans in the back room, you might have heard the wind whisper outside. Murphy brought his water to his lips, leaned back in his chair, and studied Whitt in a very different light. That neither he nor Machen burst into laughter was a measure of just how angry they—and the rest of the town—were.

Mayor Machen was the first to recover. When he spoke, his tone had an edge. “Are you out of your mind? They’d tear you apart. This is a very patriotic town and you’re talking treason.”

Whitt gestured with his hands as he replied. “You’re right, and you’re wrong, Mayor. Folks are patriotic. They’re patriotic for what they know—for their town, for their families, even for West Virginia. They love America. But what do they know of the federal government of the United States? Bunch of foreign wars, no one was sure what they were about? Peacekeeping duty in some half-baked mud puddle half way around the world? Sixty percent of their money supposedly for social security spent on something else? Forcing them out of the plant at gunpoint? Shooting our neighbors and friends and husbands and wives?”

Machen turned red. “Well, I never... I ought to have you arrested, you son of a bitch.”

Murphy raised a hand, palm up. “Let him have his say, George. You may not agree with him, but he’s got a right to speak.”

“Not to me, he don’t. Get the hell out of here, you red son of a bitch.”

“Mayor, don’t you even see how disconnected you are from your own people? This is what the voters want. They’ve had enough. Only thing the federal government ever did in West Virginia was send in the Army to back up the coal company thugs. Look at this situation down in Baughman Settlement—you ever heard of those folks down there, before the feds said they were behind the Arlington bombing?”

Murphy said, “No.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, I know those people, and I’ve been down there to their compound.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “They’re not political; they’re isolationist, religious folks. They’ve got their little compound in the mountains, and they just want to be left alone, understand? I tried to get them hooked up with the Libertarians down there about two, three years ago, and they just weren’t interested in politics. Now why would they go blow up a bunch of defense contractors? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Machen looked at him with contempt. “Next you’ll be saying the federal government bombed their own people, won’t you?”

Whitt shrugged. “I don’t know who did it, Mr. Mayor. I do know it wasn’t the people the DHS said did it. But they sure were easy pickings, weren’t they? Just like we were in Highview. Send in some combat troops against unprepared civilians and tell the public you’ve got yourself a bunch of terrorists. Shows they’ve been doing something about terrorism, doesn’t it?”

Machen stood up. “I’m not listening to another word out of you. Not only that—you ain’t gonna run against that old fool Davidson. You’ll run against me. I’ll be damned if I’ll have some red traitor son of a bitch as my senator.”

Whitt held his hand palm out. “It doesn’t have to be this way, George.”

Machen spat. “Mr. Mayor to you. You coming, Colonel?”

Murphy pursed his lips. “I’ll hear him out, Mayor.”

Machen’s eyes widened. “For God’s sake, Ken. You of all people—you fought in two wars for this country!”

“And I would do so again. I fought because I believe people should have their say. I’ll respect Dale’s right to have his.”

“Well you can both go to hell then,” Machen said. He turned and stalked out of the diner.

“I was hoping he wouldn’t react like that,” Whitt said.

“You must be out of your mind, Dale, to think you can get elected on that platform. He’s right, you know.”

Whitt responded, “No, he’s not. Colonel, think about what you said the other day. Is this what you fought in two wars for? How about having your tax money used against you right here in Highview, not halfway around the world on some peacekeeping operation, enforcing corporate policies for the oil companies, or subsidizing sons of bitches like Nelson Barclay. Christ, Ken, you probably paid more taxes than Barclay did last year. Not to mention the Purple Heart you earned protecting our oil supply.”

Murphy took another drink, unwilling to commit to an opinion. “I’ll think about it, Dale. That’s all I’ll promise. It’s a little different for me, you know. You can talk about something like that all you want, and it’s just a lot of hot air. I’m an officer in the National Guard. If I start talking like that, it really is treason, and I could go to jail, or lose my command.”

Whitt frowned. “Would you rather lose your command or your dignity? Your freedom? How much is too much, Ken? As far as I’m concerned, they crossed the line when they started shooting civilians during a political demonstration. That just doesn’t fly. Not with me, and not with most folks around here.”

“It’s not just my dignity or freedom we’re talking about, Dale, it’s my kids too. It’s not that simple.”

The problem was that to some extent Whitt was correct. You couldn’t have the federal government shooting civilians. But this wasn’t the way to deal with it. There had to be another way to improve the situation. A way that didn’t involve violence. And for damn sure, no independence move by West Virginia could result in anything but more violence.

“Ok, Whitt. Let’s talk this all the way through. Let’s say by some miracle you get yourself elected. What happens when you get to the Senate?”

“Well, first off, there are some folks who feel the same way as I do already in the Senate, and more running for seats around the state. I’m not operating in a vacuum; I fully expect to get some support once I’m there. I’m taking two steps. I’m running for the office, and I’m starting a petition campaign to amend the State Constitution so that it’s legal to secede. Right now the Constitution explicitly rules that out. Once I’m in office, we’ll propose a bill to act on the amendment.”

“You can’t win this one, Whitt.”

Dale smiled. “You’re probably right. But if I can get a legitimate debate going, that’s something. The government is out of control, Ken. Way out of control. But if I can get even a few votes—do you have any idea what kind of a political firestorm we’ll create?”

Murphy shrugged. “What happens if you succeed? Do you think the President will just let it go? Before your bill ever passes, you’ll have the Army right here in Highview, and all over the rest of the state.”

“It won’t come to that, Ken. You yourself said it—this one would never pass. But we can make a strong as hell argument for reform. We have to make the point, Ken—both to the government and to the rest of the country.”

“What point is that, Dale?”

“They can’t bleed us dry. They can’t take all the coal and natural gas and oil—they can’t take the fruits of our labor while our people struggle in mines, and not give anything back.”

Nothing left but ice in Murphy’s glass. He raised his hand to catch the attention of the waitress, pointed to the empty glass.   

 “I still think you’re crazy to be pursuing this. I hear what you are saying—and I agree with some of it—but I can’t support you, Dale. I just can’t do it.”

“I understand. If nothing else, I appreciate you listening, not charging out of here like the Mayor.”

Murphy shrugged. “Man’s got to have his say. I wouldn’t mind hearing more of your plans, anyhow. If nothing else, it’ll be an interesting election for a change this year.”

“That it will, Colonel. That it will.”



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