Uncivil

By Dominique Robbins

The demise of democracy was gradual, until civil rights were completely eroded. 

In the aftermath of societal war and economic collapse, resistors are left to forge and survive the revolution. Nixon, a war veteran, struggles to cope with his past tr

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nin Publishing Ltd. Company
• Release date: Aug 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735330310

Book preview

ONE

A FROZEN FRAME OF ACTION News’ Jovita Morison stared into me, I stared back. I haven’t seen a working digital screen in months. Her expression was soft, and my unconscious lulled me forward. Seeing someone without crisis in their eyes, soft.

Keep looking! The familiarity of Elise’s voice brought me back to. I bagged the tablet, its charger, and all the electronics I could find. We weaved through each room with precision. Combing through every square foot of this suburban fortress for anything resembling aid to livelihood. My tinnitus began to rumble as the echoes of an M4 round entered my inner ear.

We found one more! Isaac asserted. I glanced down the stairwell and was met by a warm corpse with expensive taste, freshly dragged from the basement.

Cool, burn her out back. I directed.

Would the smoke draw attention? Possibly, but did I care? Not in the least. We would be long gone by then. Burning the body was an act of good faith and respect to their soul, but more of a gesture of fuck you to The Scourge. I whistled to urge our impending departure. Packs thrown over backs, we loaded up. Two compact sedans and a SUV in tow, we moved cautiously through town en route to our wooded rally point. Everyone knows the drill. Obey all stop signs, windows up, drive slowly, bring no attention to yourself. These were protected zones. All of the public officials and Scourge affiliates lived here. Or scattered about in what was left of here. The Entry Controllers are so consumed in trafficking rogue citizens, they’ve left their territory vulnerable. Hmmph, great for us.

As we approached the highway on ramp, we took a sharp turn onto an access road. A quick scan, of the road behind and in front of us indicated no threat, as we advanced further. We drove in silence. Vigilance was key to survival. And how do you survive when everyone left is a top predator? Hide in plain sight and kill whatever isn’t familiar.

Elise turned the wheel as we approached the peeling MATHEWS 721 addressed mailbox and drove down a winding driveway. Passing the towering pecan tree sparked the faintest memory of the first home we lived in, every time. We slowed past the stone-veneered cottage into its backyard brush. Well into the trees, Elise navigated slowly along a barely visible trail. She knew the way, but that was no comfort. Every expedition caused more anxiety. Her eyes flickered to the corners, a side stare begging to be met. I placed my hand on the nape of her neck to give a stress-relieving squeeze. It wasn’t enough. She exhaled hesitantly, letting me know she appreciated the effort. The car stopped short of a natural barricade. Snapped tree trunks and a shallow creek marked the second leg of our journey. We made it.

Elise, start unloading, the others should be here soon, I said. As she went towards the trunk, I ejected the passenger chair to grab our haul of food and supplies out of the back seat. I approached the tailgate and we caught eyes again. You okay? I asked.

Mostly, she reassured. Since we were kids, Elise has been a girl of few words. Our family always joked that if nothing else in life worked out, she could be a professional mime. Her smile would beam while she listened in on conversations, but words would rarely escape her lips. That was a lighter time, though. Elise was the baby of our siblings. She exhibited bits of us all but still reserved a regal mystery representative of her past self. Hardened by present times, I respected her ability to cope but resented her having to.

Guess what I found? I said, trying to lighten her mood. Her head raised curiously. I pulled a bag of opened sunflower seeds from my backpack. I found it at the truck stop on the way in. Figured it would be a good celebration gift once we made it out. The corner of her mouth creased as I handed it to her. Just as I unclipped my gun harness, Dani, Lamor, and Kayson pulled in.

Isaac and Freya aren’t too far behind, Kayson said, exiting their vehicle.

What do you think? Dani gloated, showcasing a diamond bracelet.

Glad to see you’re focused, I said. How does that help the reserve?

She dismissed me with a look and threw a bag at my feet. I shifted it with my foot enough to hear the clinks of pots and utensils. Lamor did what he always did, ignored her. One by one Kayson checked each vehicle’s tread, mirrors, backup arsenal in the floors, and fuel levels. He did this every time we went out of the reserve. His eyes were usually the first and last set to examine our transportation. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Without words, it was muscle memory as he gassed up the vehicles with our fuel cans. Elise was outfitting each car with loose brush. Lamor went on towards the driveway to close the tree gap as Freya and Isaac rolled in. Isaac hopped out prematurely and he and Lamor dusted up our tracks.

We did our best to remain invisible. That’s how we survived. We traveled back to the reserve in silence, on foot, per usual. Vigilance couldn’t be accomplished otherwise. The downside of that silence was being trapped in our minds where sorrow and fear hid. Traveling beyond our camp was only done in non-routine cycles. Either entirely on foot or by vehicle, groups took one of two paths on or off the reserve, then branched off from there. Varying the routes and method of travel kept us from creating noticeable trails. Everyone knew, you only leave in groups to gather medicine or objects for community advancement, nothing more, nothing else. We voted to decide what was worth risking exposure and our lives. If we get lucky, food, books, or other luxuries were found along the way.

The Scourge was snatching up more people, last we’d heard. I figure it’s a half-ass attempt at saving this poor world that we created. Nonetheless, it made every mission and every journey more dangerous. The problem is you never know who is for you or against you. Opposition to the cause itself or interpersonal, your enemy remains unknown.

Over a year ago, our civil liberties began to disappear and have more qualifiers. It began with the doubling down of the Thirteenth Amendment, arresting people for anything and everything to get more free labor. This disproportionately affected blacks, browns and, hell, the dark adjacent. You could never be seen as unarmed if you were born black. That blackness was a weapon and gave society, especially cops a license to kill. News networks would race bait with splashy headlines, when the truth wasn’t as trendy or provocative. Deaths were seen as deserved whether playing while black as a child, driving while black as a women, or jogging while black as a man. In every form, in any scenario, persons of interest weren’t held accountable. The digital age gave the world access to visuals of already existing facts. Yet somehow accountability became a luxury. Trained professionals were allowed to fear for their lives but those with barrels aimed in their direction or with obstructed airways needed to remain calm.

We were treated as less than for centuries, having secured basic American rights only 60 years ago. Yet when we are upset by the egregious acts, we’re stereotyped as angry or the aggressor.

When digital boycott and awareness wasn’t enough, we protested. A few laws changed here and there with blanket pacification: condemning voter suppression, labeling lynching a hate crime, enforcing body cameras that were controlled by the wearing officer.

None of which was enough to stop the murders and mass incarceration of black people that lingered without consequence. When protesting grew tiresome the people grew fierce. Neighborhoods deployed armed watch groups to protect themselves against over-policing. Community programs rooted in law, finances, and history launched to begin economic empowerment. It was like another Harlem Renaissance. Soon government groups labeled the movement as a cult and radical. Using singular acts of violence to add substance to their claims. When some southern states decided to deploy the national guard, the people struck back. Throwing rocks as warnings and bricks as weapons, it only took two standoffs and infinite lines of armed men and women for them to see we wouldn’t back down. The Council of Presidents decided to supersede political balances with an executive order: banning all firearms.

The revocation of the Second Amendment under the guise of national protection; yeah, that upset the whites.

This had an unintended ripple effect into the same white groups that once condemned our rebellion. When gun surrender points started appearing in every county countrywide, the protest and panic got worse.

Back then a law could only be an executive order for a month before being voted on to be kept. However that was still too long. Before the vote could be brought to ballot, a bill was passed through legislation, revoking voter eligibility.

When proof of lineage became a qualifier of voting and natural residency. Everyone on the rainbow spectrum between black and tanned white were deemed ineligible, some even investigated for deportation.

This overturning of the Fourteenth Amendment upset everyone in between.

America, like an ugly fungus, still somehow maintained a mycelia network of racist redlining and a heritage of oppression. Only the lines were blurred against more than just us.

Some who had the luxury of political associations and power, or pure ignorance, didn’t see a problem with the executive order. It went from solely a race issue to a class issue. If you were of color OR middle class, you were a legislative target. They tried to tell us how to respond to our oppression. Protest, but peacefully. Demand justice, but ask civilly. It’s not up to anyone to tell a group how they should rebel against their own genocide. Anything other than ally-ism was taking up space.

Although, with the numbers of our allies swelling, tensions grew in daily life. Simple acts like going to work and grocery shopping couldn’t be done without observing the people around you. Unfortunately, being confronted by political enemies with unwavering indifference towards your struggle, stirred instant conflict. Everyone lived on edge with constant policing and cyber-monitoring. When talks