Glen Tate - 299 Days - The Visitors

Snelling raised his hand. Everyone knew fireworks were coming.

“Yes, Mr. Snelling,” Grant said in a sarcastically polite voice.

Snelling mockingly said, “Here we have the mighty Grant Matson, Mr. Constitution and anti-government, proposing a census, postal service, and library? That’s government. Those aren’t in the 200-year old Constitution.” The crowd was quiet.

Grant laughed. A big, hearty “I’m glad you said that, dumbass” kind of laugh.

“Um, Mr. Snelling, have you ever actually read the Constitution?” Grant asked.

“I’ve read about it. Extensively,” Snelling said.

“But you haven’t actually read it, right?” Grant said. “Reading New York Times editorials about the Constitution doesn’t count.” That got some laughs.

Snelling was silent.

Grant went in for the kill. “Look it up for yourself, sir. The Constitution specifically authorizes a post service and a census. A library would be the ‘progress of science and useful arts,’ which the Constitution specifically authorizes Congress to do. You know, like the Library of Congress. It’s amazing all the stuff that’s in the Constitution when you actually read it.” Grant started to laugh at Snelling. He was really enjoying this. The crowd appeared to, as well. They laughed along with Grant.

Snelling was humiliated. He had one more “hypocrite” card to play on Grant.

“Well,” Snelling said with a sneer, “you hate government, but propose an Agriculture Department and schools at Pierce Point. Where’s that in the Constitution?”

“Well,” Grant said, “the Constitution limits government—a crazy idea, to you Loyalists, I know.” That was the first time he had used the term “Loyalist,” but he thought this was a good time to break it out, given what an ass Snelling was making of himself. Might as well have the crowd equate “Loyalist” with “jackass.”

“That’s right,” Grant continued, “the Constitution limits government , not private people. And Mr. Ramirez’s Ag department is purely voluntary and so is the school. Voluntary. I guess that’s hard for you to conceive of, Mr. Snelling. Ag and schools must be massive bureaucracies and people must pay over half their income to support things like that. No, Mr. Snelling, not here. Not at Pierce Point. That’s what you hate, isn’t it? You hate that we’re doing things ourselves, and doing a damned good job, without the government you worship.” The crowd applauded loudly.

Grant was elated. Not about slamming Snelling; that was tragically easy when your opponent tries to debate the Constitution, but has never read it. Instead, Grant was proud that he had turned the political corner out there. He had shown people, with practical things, like a library, that the Patriot way worked and the Loyalist way didn’t. Now Grant was calling assholes with bad ideas “Loyalists,” and people were applauding. Those in the crowd may not walk around thinking of themselves as a “Patriot,” but they sure as hell would listen to someone who called themselves that. The political persuasion was done. Grant would need to maintain it, of course, but the big battle had been won, with practical results, not theoretical debate.

“You and your little pals are free to go,” Grant said, without thinking. “Free to go, Mr. Snelling.” That didn’t get much applause, however. It seemed that people didn’t mind applauding when a guy made a good point, but kicking people out into the chaos outside Pierce Point was different.

Fair enough. Maybe Grant had overplayed his hand a little bit. Oh well, no one’s perfect. It was time to show Snelling and the crowd the tough side of Grant.

“Seriously,” Grant said. “Why don’t you leave? You seem so miserable here with all the common people, the hillbillies. The government running everything seems to be what you want. There’s plenty of that out there.” Grant nodded his head toward Frederickson. “Frederickson seems to be running smoothly. With the gangs in charge, of course. I bet Olympia is a dream for you. All those nice Freedom Corps people serving the public. Why don’t you go? It’s a serious question. Why don’t you?”

Snelling knew the answer but couldn’t say it. The only safe place around was Pierce Point and he wasn’t about to leave it.

It was right then and there that Snelling made his big decision: he would finally do something to get rid of Grant. Snelling couldn’t leave Pierce Point, and he couldn’t stand being in Pierce Point with Grant running it. He wasn’t sure how he’d get rid of Grant, but he had to try.

“I wouldn’t leave my property here,” Snelling said, trying desperately to make at least one debating point. “I would leave if I could sell it,” he said, which wasn’t true.

“But Mr. Snelling, you can’t sell it,” Grant said. That surprised everyone. Wasn’t Grant Mr. Freedom? Mr. Property Rights? Why couldn’t a person sell his or her property?

Grant went on. “There are all those HUD and state housing department forms to fill out to sell a residence. You would need to have a certified property inspector look at it. You need a certification that all the household appliances are ‘green.’ You need to pay the excise tax to sell property, and that’s a hefty sum now. Those are all the laws that you want to live under, but not when they get in the way of you doing what you want, huh?” More applause.

“Tell you what, Mr. Snelling,” Grant said. “Here at Pierce Point, there are no ‘green’ appliance certification requirements. You can just sell it. There are no taxes out here, either; you can just keep the money. You could list your property with Ken Dolphson. Then you can get the hell out of here. Would you? Please?”

No one applauded. Grant was being too caustic and losing the crowd. He had overplayed his hand again, but it felt great.

Snelling’s face got beet red. He wanted to kill Grant, but he didn’t want to do it himself. He wanted Grant gone. He wanted to leave that room, but he wouldn’t, not when Grant had just asked him to leave. That would be admitting defeat.

“We’ll see how this turns out,” Snelling said.

“What does that mean?” Grant asked, hoping that he was threatening him.

“Things seem great now,” Snelling said. “Wait until winter. Less food. More sickness. Things won’t always be as rosy as they are now.” Snelling was making sense for the first time. But it seemed to Grant that Snelling was hoping that Pierce Point would fail, and Snelling was prepared to do what it took to make that happen.

“You’re right, Mr. Snelling,” Grant said sincerely. “Winter will be tough, which is why we need to work hard now to get ready. So let’s return to the work at hand tonight: how to get ready for winter.” Grant wanted to end on a point that made him look like a good guy instead of someone beating up a fool. He would leave Snelling alone for the rest of the meeting.

A couple of evenings later, Grant was at the Grange talking to people who had volunteered for various jobs.

Linda Rodriguez, the dispatcher, suddenly flew out of the little radio room. She ran out the door into the parking lot. A few seconds later, Chip was with her and the two of them were running toward Grant.

Chip started to yell to Grant, but caught himself so he wouldn’t cause everyone else alarm. He said to Grant, as calmly as possible, “You and I are needed.” Chip pointed to Grant’s AR leaning up against the wall and motioned for Grant to get it and come with him. Grant excused himself from the conversation and walked quickly over to his AR. Then he nonchalantly got his kit hanging in the coat closet. Whatever Chip needed him for, this wasn’t good.