Lethal Trajectories (44 page)

“Well of course I am, Tom. If you’ll recall, it was I who invited you and Hugo to plan our assault on the BM administration. But now we have something even better to rally against—the McCarty Manifesto. The real question is, are
you
willing to go all the way to stop McCarty in his tracks, Senator?”

The tirade that followed seemed to embarrass even the unflappable Hugo Bromfield. Wellington feared for the senator’s life as Collingsworth exploded with a rage that made the veins in his reddened neck bulge with each new wave of invective. “I’ll live and die with this issue, but I’ll never, ever willingly let McCarty destroy everything I hold sacred. No sir, I will never do that.” Collingsworth collapsed in his chair, exhausted by his outburst.

“Senator,” said Wellington with what passed for compassion in his voice, “You are a great American, and I share your rage. Together, we’ll take McCarty down, if it’s the last thing we do. Hugo, are you with us?”

“Thank you, Wellington,” Hugo replied, sounding happy to be acknowledged for once, “I’m with you all the way. What do you intend to do now?”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Wellington replied enthusiastically, “that we agreed to take our case against the BM administration to the American people. Burkmeister gummed it up with his terminal illness, and we laid low for a while. The new McCarty Manifesto and his ill-advised nomination of Elizabeth Cartright to be VP changes everything. This man is dangerous and has to be stopped, and as loyal Americans it’s our job to expose McCarty for the danger he is. We’re taking off the gloves, gentlemen, and going after him with everything we’ve got.”

Collingsworth and Bromfield smiled.

“We are reviving our campaign and renaming it ‘Taking Back America.’ We’ll do the road shows, as planned, and make sure not an hour goes by that something isn’t said about McCarty’s treachery on any given media outlet at any given time.

“Can you believe this guy?” Wellington asked, working himself into a rage, “going before Congress and showing off his cutesy little chart and his stupid perfect storm metaphor, talking down to all of us like schoolchildren? He manufactures a crisis—and I call it ‘manufactured’ because we could go into Saudi Arabia right now and get those oil fields back in a jiffy—and then he uses it as a pretext for instituting martial law in our country. And rationing? Do you think I’m going to let that clown tell me I can’t fly my jet or drive my Rolls-Royce?”

“There are a lot of us in the Senate that don’t like his willingness to circumvent Congress to impose his will, Wellington, and …”

“And what, Senator?” Crane prodded. “What exactly will those namby-pambies in the Senate do? You’ll talk about it, but you’ll cave in. You always do …”

“Just who in the hell do you think you’re talking to, Wellington?” screamed the outraged senator. “How dare you include me in with that bunch? How dare you …”

“Now, now, relax, Senator,” Wellington had responded, hardly able to suppress a chuckle, “I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about the others. I know you’ll do what you can, but your example isn’t likely to move the others to do the right thing.”
It’s so easy,
Wellington mused,
all I have to do is tell him he can’t do something, and he responds like a petulant child.

“Sorry, Wellington, no offense meant, but I have a little more clout in the Senate than you may give me credit for having. I can tie McCarty up in the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, delay his nomination of Elizabeth Cartright using my vote on the Judiciary Committee, slow his efforts to institute the new Department of Energy, Transportation, and Climate-change, and use my bully pulpit to put a monkey wrench in his budgetary and rationing plans.”

“Senator, it appears I underestimated you,” Wellington said, impressed, “You can rest assured I’ll do whatever I can to publicly and financially support you and those patriots who choose to ally with us. We’ll take our message to the public and with your efforts in the Senate, we should be able to either stop him or slow him down. Perhaps you might even find grounds for impeachment—you know, exceeding presidential authority, stuff like that.”
Might as well plant a few seeds,
Wellington had thought.

“While we’re at it,” said Hugo Bromfield, caught up in the moment, “McCarty has also abdicated the sovereignty of the United States to an outside entity that will regulate the amount of oil we can import. Further, their cockamamie oil plan calls for the United States to relinquish more oil in this special contingency reserve pool than any other country.”

“Right on, Hugo, and they’re doing all this in collusion with Red China,” said Collingsworth, fueling the fire.

“Senator, would you be willing to appear on my show tomorrow?” Wellington had asked, knowing full well the answer.

“Of course, Wellington, what would you like me to do?”

“I’d like to have an open conversation with you, much like we’re having here, to make known the perfidy of this administration. I’ll give you a few softball questions and then engage you in conversation. We’ll open it up for a few phone calls, and once I have my audience worked up, I’ll announce that the Taking Back America road show kicks off in ten days or so.”

“Count me in, Wellington. In the meantime, Hugo and I’ll compile a list of like-minded senators who will join in our crusade.”

The loud crack of a tree breaking in the gusting wind shook Wellington out of his reverie. For the first time, he realized that the hurricane might do what no human force had been able to do: shut down his broadcast. He didn’t fear for his life, but what if his precious studio was knocked out or destroyed by Hurricane Matilda?

Perplexed, he put on his rain gear and rushed to his studio. If it was going to be blown away, he’d go down with it. There was nothing he hated more than to not be in control of a situation, and he was frightened this might be one of those rare occasions.

P
astor Veronica Larson’s first conscious thought upon waking and seeing the frost on her window was,
How will my struggling parishioners pay their next heating bill?
The change of seasons had taken on a new meaning as the oil crisis worsened.

The Life Challenges Co-op had completely consumed her since she introduced the idea two weeks ago. As part of an executive committee charged with launching the co-op, she had met every day since to plan, recruit, and delegate tasks to keep it moving.

The president’s speech last week had added fuel to the fire. She had never seen such panic in Mankato before; she couldn’t believe how quickly the crisis had taken hold and spread. There were long lines at the gas stations, even though premium gas was selling at $10.78 per gallon; several stations had already closed as their pumps ran dry, and the remaining stations limited gas purchases to five gallons per customer. The effects of rising oil prices put a strain on all other energy forms, and heating fuel costs were becoming problematic as temperatures started to drop.

The president’s call for gas rationing had ignited the efforts of the co-op’s executive committee. They now had a real-time problem to sink their teeth into, and they wasted little time in designing an energy matrix to match community transportation needs with the availability of fuel and cars. The proposed online system offered transportation alternatives such as carpooling, and the committee planned to use it as a model for other forms of resource-sharing likely to be needed.

After making breakfast for the kids and getting them off to school, Veronica poured her third cup of coffee and turned on the news. She was horrified to learn that Saudi military forces were crossing the borders unopposed into Kuwait, Qatar, and the UAE as part of some protectorate thing she didn’t understand. The stories of gas lines, hijacked oil trucks, and rioting were depressing. One clip showed O’Hare Airport in Chicago and reported that over 70 percent of flights there had been canceled due to aviation fuel shortages. On that unhappy note, she put her coffee cup down and left the house for the first of two important meetings.

Bill Princeton, chairman of the Mankato Chamber of Commerce and owner of Princeton Manufacturing Company, stood ready to greet Veronica as she entered the Chamber’s offices. “Mornin', Pastor. You’re here early. The meeting doesn’t start for another half hour.”

“Hi, Bill. I came early so that you and I could have a few minutes to chat. I wanted to get your perspective on the co-op. Is this a good time for you?”

“Of course, Veronica. Always a pleasure.” He poured Veronica a piping-hot cup of coffee and waited for her to open the conversation.

“First off, Bill, I can’t thank you enough for your willingness to serve as the interim director of our co-op. As an employer with more than thirty employees and head of the local Chamber, you bring the kind of practical experience we need to get this off the ground.”

“My pleasure, Veronica, it really is. I’ve put Charlie Wiggins, my second in command, in charge at the company, so I can devote myself full-time to this effort. Believe me, the more I get into it, the more I realize how much it’s needed. People are really starting to hurt.”

“That’s the feeling I get too.” Veronica replied, “I’d expect we’ll have well over two hundred people attending our Life Challenges meeting tonight. Can you give me a quick rundown of how you see things progressing with the co-op?”

“Sure thing! At today’s meeting we’ll be covering a number of things. First, I want to make sure our energy matrix system is online by the end of this week. We know there are people who can’t afford to get from point A to point B. Our job will be to match them with a carpool in their area.”

Veronica thought about the frost on her window this morning and said, “That’s wonderful, Bill. The cold weather this morning also made me think about heating bills as well. How are we doing on that front?”

“That’s another issue we’ll address today. At this stage, it’ll be about communication and education. We’re going to ask everyone to turn their thermostats down to sixty degrees at night to conserve natural gas, propane, and other heating fuels. We’re also organizing quick-fix weatherization squads to help homeowners make their homes more energy efficient. Nothing elaborate, mind you, but we’ll caulk windows, patch up drafty spots, and distribute literature on other ways to save energy.”

“Great! Will you have someone stop by my drafty house?” she asked, half-kidding.

“Glad to, Veronica! In fact, I’d be happy to do it myself.” He laughed before continuing.

“Our task force is making good progress on responses to the economic tsunami coming our way. We’re seeing the early effects already in the form of high energy costs, cutbacks, layoffs, and reduced consumer spending. Our local merchants tell me they’ve seen a 20 percent reduction in same-store sales. Layoffs are picking up, and the struggle to heat houses, buy food, and pay for gas is getting tougher.”

“This sounds challenging, Bill. What kind of progress are we making on this front?” Veronica asked, with a newfound respect for this modest man, a widowed spouse like herself.

“For openers, Steve Shankey at First Bank will be working with other bankers in Mankato and the surrounding area to provide interim financing and low-cost loans for families in need. We’ll be organizing local churches and nonprofit organizations to provide food and housing for the less fortunate, and later we’ll plug the needy into any public programs that might be available. Our intent is to provide at least a minimal safety net to meet the most pressing needs.”

“We’re so blessed to have your experience available to us at this critical time.”

“Thanks, Veronica, but it’s only the beginning. We’ve got to assume this crisis is going to last quite a while. Energy costs have been a chronic problem in Mankato for the last five years, and it’s going to get far worse. The president made clear that there’s likely to be additional rationing of food and other commodities. We’ve got to take waste out of the system while we can, and it’s going to take time, money, energy, and a lot of pain while we learn how to get by with less. We’ll need to organize our efforts around energy and environmental efficiency practices that cover a spectrum of financial and behavioral issues, not to mention plain old infrastructure changes. In the process, we can’t forget the emotional and spiritual challenges our citizens will face. Would you agree?”

“You just gave my opening speech for the meeting tonight, Bill. Would you be willing to share the stage with me? If so, I’d like you to cover the co-op activities, and I’ll try to take on the behavioral issues. We’ve got to make clear that a permanent change is taking place, and the quicker we shuck off our old self-indulgent ways and behaviors and face up to the new realities, the better off we’ll be.”

The first few members of the executive committee began to straggle in, and Bill and Veronica followed them into the conference room. Veronica subsumed herself entirely in the meeting that followed, and she was surprised to find that it was almost two o’clock by the time it adjourned. The co-op meetings were so much more stimulating than the church council meetings (which she had been excused from attending), and she stayed a while longer to chat with Bill about their evening’s presentations before heading out to visit two shut-in parishioners.
Bill is a remarkable man. I wonder if he has a significant other in his life,
Veronica mused.