NOTE: If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.
Rank Majors stands outside the Elegant Ostrich Gift Shop, watching the raindrop. An automatic weapon hangs across his chest and his new green Fauxmont Militia baseball cap shades his eyes from view through the overcast morning. ‘REOPEN NOW’, says a hand-lettered sign in the window.
“Do you think we have an inch yet?”
“Hi Fred, way more. Time to build an Ark!”
“How about a small dented old aluminum boat?”
He shifts his weight and adjusts the hang of his weapon. We both look into the rain, which slackens even as the sky gets darker.
“I didn’t know you had a machine gun!”
“Fred, this is an assault rifle.”
“Yes, what do you need one of those for?”
He thumbs behind him to the hand-lettered sign.
“These folks tell me they will go out of business by the end of the week if they can’t get customers in.”
“Sorry about that, but what’s it got to do with your weapon?”
“I just bought it, when the government started locking us up like convicts, you know, ‘LOCKDOWN’.”
“I think the idea is to prevent the spread of infection.”
“The idea is crazy. We are killing our own economy, not the virus.”
“The economy is only on hold for a while.”
“No one can put an economy on hold. It’s either growing or dying.”
“We are trying to live with a deadly and dangerous infection.”
“The effect is exaggerated.”
“Don’t you see that one infected person can spread the virus to many others?”
“Sure, and that’s how it should be.”
“Should it?”
“I mean the planet is over-crowded.”
“Are you hoping for a mass die-off?”
“Not hoping, no. Every death will be a tragedy but if we lose three to five percent or even twenty percent of the population, the whole country will benefit.”
“Over a hundred thousand have died already.”
“Those numbers aren’t reliable.”
“You think they are inflated?”
“Ah, not really. A lot of those people would have died anyway.”
“What about those who wouldn’t have died anyway?”
“The problem is we don’t have reliable data.”
“That’s it.”
“Yeah, smoking is supposed to kill 480,000 per year, traffic accidents, around 36,000, diabetes, 84,000. We live with these numbers and no one gets too excited.”
“We lost around 3000 on 9/11 and look what happened!”
“Yeah, they turned it into a war.”
“What would you call it?”
“I call it what it was, a terrorist attack. Those people were criminals as far as I am concerned and that is how we should have responded.”
Rank waves to The Fauxmont Militia passing in an SUV flying a saturated and floppy, Gadsden flag. “Join or Die” is painted in red along the side window.
“That will rattle the Liberals and lefties!”
“Are you riding with General Gadsden these days?”
“I am not all the way, with those guys.”
“They are so careless; they deserve a nomination for the Darwin Award!”
“There’s about, 330,000,000 people in the country; too many.”
“The virus doesn’t just kill sick people, you know.”
“Yup, so, we lose say, sixteen and a half million.”
“A lot of rich undertakers!”
“There you are, free investment advice.”
“Well, some humans think saving their fellows is a good thing.”
“That is no excuse for an immoral, unconstitutional, lockdown!”
“So, what do you think should be done.”
“If you want to stay home, stay. If you want to go out, go. Leave the government out of it.”
“Suppose you are among the casualties?”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Your chances are improved by the stay home order, you know.”
“This AK will take care of my problems.”
“AK?”
“That’s right Fred, AK 47, selective-fire, gas-operated 7.62×39mm rifle.”
“A Russian one, isn’t it?”
“It is, named after Mikhail Kalashnikov, model-year, 1947.”
“Why don’t you buy American?”
“Because this is more rugged and reliable than anything we make.”
“Well, it looks familiar enough from all the pictures of war zones I’ve seen.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty common. I got a deal on it from a buddy who brought some back from Iraq.”
“Aren’t you concerned about being identified with terrorists?”
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it the Jihadi’s weapon of choice?”
He points to the American flag sticker on the magazine and the patch on his shoulder.
“Sure is. What’s it to me?”
“Anyway, how is it going to help you against the virus?”
“Oh, it isn’t. You can’t shoot the thing!”
“My thought, exactly.”
A couple comes out of the Safeway with a cart full of paper goods and packs of water. A small woman in a yellow slicker struggles, without a cart. She loads her Jeep Renegade with a twelve-pack of toilet paper and even more paper towels bound in stretched plastic.
“Looks as if the shortages are growing worse.”
“See the sign on the door?”
“Oh yes, they are out of hand sanitizer.”
“No more soap, either.”
Rank adjusts the strap on his AK again.
“This thing may save my bacon and yours’s too if you want to buy one.”
“If it comes to that, I think the military have you outgunned.”
“If it comes to that, the military may no longer be a coherent force.”
“You think there will be mutiny?”
“A lot of young soldiers support the President, big time.”
“How do you know?”
“The volunteer force draws a lot of people from red states; like need a job!”
“A lot of others as well.”
“They will do their patriotic duty.”
“Well, one man’s patriot is another’s mutineer!”
“Harks back to 1775, doesn’t it?”
“You talking revolution?”
“No, I am making a statement of my views.”
“Certainly, looks provocative!”
“You bet Fred. That’s how you get attention.”
“Sensation sells airtime. That is clear.”
Rosalba Whiterose greets Rank from under her dripping umbrella, decorated with images from Monet’s views of the Thames.
“Hi there, are you looking for trouble?”
“Hi Rosie, I am guarding against it.”
“Well, thanks for keeping my work safe.”
“That’s not what I am here for. I am demonstrating my right to be on the street.”
“Well, okay, you want to let me in?”
“I won’t stand in your way.”
“I need to pick up three pieces that have not sold, before they shut down.”
“Sorry Rosie, I don’t have keys.”
“Darn it! I didn’t think they would be closed now.”
“They were forced to close.”
“Oh, yeah, the virus thing. I know. It’s great! I haven’t left my studio for four days.”
“You chose one hell of a day today!”
“So did you, Fred.”
“Yes Ms. Whiterose, a bad time to run out of food.”
“Have either of you seen Maria del Sarto?”
“No, I thought she had moved on.”
Rosie flicks through some screens on her phone.
“Better not have. She is supposed to be here now. It’s gone 11:30, and that’s when we were going to meet.”
Wind blows rain into us under the shopping center’s covered walk. We step back.
“Don’t think you will get much of a crowd in all this, Rank.”
“What do you want a crowd for?”
“To make my point, Rosie. Get some attention!”
“Rank, leave me out of the politics, okay?”
“Rosie, you can’t ever get away from politics.”
“When I am in the studio working on my miniatures, I am doing that and nothing else.”
The sky is brighter to the West. There’s a brilliant flash immediately followed by thunder. The traffic light at Maxwell Avenue and Oval Street is blinking yellow and power is out at the Light House Gas Station. Distant sirens grow louder.
“That must have hit right here.”
Rosie stands with her back against the door having fastened her umbrella.
“Check the smoke guys!”
Rank points across the street.
“Yeah, that tree is split.”
“There it goes!”
“Fred, we have another obstacle to deal with.”
The Fauxmont Militia SUV returns, goes right, off Oval Street and stops at the shattered tree blocking Maxwell Avenue. Two people jump out in green military-style ponchos.
“That’s Albrecht. Look, he has his AR15.”
“Now, that I believe, is the ArmaLite gun.”
“Yeah, they sold the patent to Colt.”
Rosie looks up from her phone.
“Why all the guns, Rank?”
“Hey, these are dangerous times. We must be ready, ready for anything. Besides I can get a rise out of the liberals!”
Rosie steps away to get a better view past an intervening pillar and looks back at us.
“What are they doing?”
“Oh yes, here is Banninck Cocq!”
Another black Chevy Suburban approaches on Maxwell Avenue with a single orange light flashing from the roof. It stops on the other side of the fallen branch. Two get out, with navy blue ponchos, hoods up and stand in the road to direct traffic. Weapons strapped on their backs.
“Why are they wearing shades on a dark day like this?”
“It is part of the company ‘look’, you know.”
“What company?”
“Urban Safety Solutions, you know, Jake Trip hired them years ago as a community service.”
“If I made a painting of them, it would be a cartoon!”
“They have, Bill Ruytenburch out, as well as Kemp. I think that’s Kemp.”
“You know that guy, Rank?”
“Sure Fred, Bill has a nice place over on the Van Rijn Estates.”
“Wish you could open that door, Rank.”
“Sorry, can’t help you.”
Though sirens grow louder nothing comes down the street.
“They’re going to clear the road!”
“Well, they got a chain around that branch.”
Albrecht’s black Chevy backs up, pulling the huge red oak branch to the side of the road.
“That’s the real America for you!”
Rosie steps back towards us, maintaining her social distance.
“Really? You think the rest us are a fantasy or something?”
“No, I think we have become decadent and lazy.”
“Well, there are people getting rich out of this virus thing.”
“Right! God love them, make a buck! That’s what makes America what it is.”
“Aha, and what is America, Rank?”
“People are getting out there and doing what needs doing, instead of waiting for the government.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Sure, don’t you think clearing the street is worthwhile?”
“I guess so. It’s not their job. I mean the county pays people to do that.”
“That’s right, government and taxes, way too much of it.”
“Armed with military weapons? I think that’s unnecessary, Rank!”
“Rosie, you will find out soon enough.”
“Hey, guys!”
“Maria! There you are!”
“Sorry, everything is messed up by this storm and I had to go back and get my mask.”
“We don’t need them outside.”
“Well this thing is soaked, and I can’t even breath.”
She pulls it down from her face and leaves it pressed against her neck.
“OH! Icky!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Rosie, I got cold water dripping inside my shirt.”
“It has been raining ever since sunup.”
“Yeah, not that you could tell, Fred!”
“Early riser, Rosie?”
“Early thunderstorm.”
“That’s one big cloud up there.”
Maria presses her fingers into her tight denim pockets. First her right thigh then her left. She finds the keys in a back pocket.
“The forecast is cool and wet until Thursday.”
“Keep looking West, Fred.”
“It’s not going anywhere soon.”
“Say, guys, these keys don’t work.”
