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c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(2-25)
Worshipers from the newly renamed World Church of the Creator Faith Assembly, a short distance away from Evergreen Estates, moved quickly to reach the Geauga County Safety Center, outside of Chardon. But before they could travel south on Route 44, troops from the Ohio National Guard interrupted their travel. There were armed soldiers everywhere. Tanks, personnel carriers, and Jeeps lined the roadway. Helicopters flew overhead. Drones buzzed loudly. Orders were shouted via megaphone amplification. The crack of gunfire kept onlookers quiet and obedient.
Roel Psenka had ridden to the spot in his granddaughter’s plain, Chevy Cruze sedan. Upon struggling out of the economy car, and finding a level patch of tarmac where he could stand and watch, the community icon shivered a bit. Temperatures had risen since the frosty weeks of January, yet still lingered at a point barely above freezing. A gentle breeze kept him feeling exposed. He cursed under his breath, and coughed before lifting a pair of binoculars to get a better view.
“Mandy? Do you see all those people? It’s like a crowd at the Burton fair, or a circus performance. That parking lot is jammed!”
His bloodline descendant nodded and smiled, meekly. She was still in a sweatshirt and pants from attending a Bible study, on the township square. Her long, auburn hair had been tied back with a gold clasp. She wore a matching cross pendant, around her slender neck.
“Pop Pop, we wouldn’t have found a place to park over there! It’s a crazy mess. I never saw that many people at any kind of function here. Not even for services on Easter Sunday!”
The octogenarian fellow cleared his throat and wheezed for relief.
“If they did set Aimesworth Hefti free, how would he get out? The front doors are blocked. They’ve got trucks all the way around that building. And there are TV cameras set up by the roadway...”
Mandy Polanski agreed and patted his shoulder in a show of support.
“They should turn back, I think. I wouldn’t expect anything good out of a confrontation...”
Inside the sprawling facility. Sheriff Tom T. Rath was busy keeping track of all the protesters, deputies, assisting officers from other departments, troops on site, and media figures prowling the perimeter. It was a challenge like he had never seen before. Every surge of the crowd made his stomach churn and ache. He wondered how long the standoff might continue.
“Stay focused, everybody! One misstep and this could explode right before our eyes! I don’t want any headlines. There are equipment vans here from CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, the Cleveland stations, and even a few newspaper companies. I want them to write that we kept the peace. That we did our jobs as intended. No more, no less!”
At a far corner of the property, journalist Libby Raal tightened the zipper on her fleece jacket, and attempted to make a cell phone video. Gloved hands hampered this effort to produce some sort of livestream report. So, she leaned against a sign post to steady herself. Her waiflike voice fluttered as she tried to sound competent and thoughtful.
“I’m here waiting to see if Governor Moerlein will issue a pardon for the militia leader who was arrested, yesterday. Is that even possible? I don’t think he has been formally charged. There was such an uproar in this rural township over him being detained that things have really gotten unpredictable. Someone must have tipped off the national media, because Rachel Madcow is still here. And Gunderson Looper, a host from another network. They have both been stirring the pot since early this morning, getting protesters from Cleveland into a frenzy. I’m surprised that more scuffles between the ranks haven’t occurred...”
Finally, the sheriff emerged from his office suite, and managed to squeeze into the mass of bodies that surrounded their enforcement center. He looked rumpled and red-faced. But with the courage of a legal negotiator.
“Look, everybody, I understand your concerns about the man we’re holding. Some of you want him to be released, and others want a summary execution, in front of spectators and the press! That’s not how it’ll go down though, the courts make those decisions. Nothing will happen until we get a ruling. And that can’t happen until charges are filed by the county prosecutor!”
Ms. Raal managed to slip past the guard soldiers, and reporters. Her small build was an asset in such confined conditions.
“Sheriff Rath, you mean to say there was an arrest made with no charges? Is that even legal?”
The safety chief was visibly embarrassed, and flustered. He had to wipe saliva from his mouth.
“We took him into custody for questioning, officially. For his protection and ours. You know that things have been heating up at the trailer park since Election Day, last year. The FBI has had him under surveillance. Umm... ohh... should I have said that out loud? Maybe not!”
Members of the National Guard, local police officers, and deputies, all gripped their weapons more tightly. Tension turned the air into a stale vapor of anxiety.
Libby fumbled her pen and notepad, while continuing the inquiry.
“Protection? Is that a standard under the law, sir? Does it mean there is already evidence of misdeeds by Mr. Hefti or his militant extremists?”
Rath groaned and huffed while keeping his stance erect.
“Ma’am, I don’t handle that side of the ledger. I stand on the law, and I follow orders from the court and local authorities. People above my pay grade make the tough decisions. If you want those kinds of answers, you need to go somewhere else...”
From across the road, church parishioners began to chant and pray. They were restless and full of religious zeal.
“MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! AMEN! AMEN! AMEN!”
Student activists from the Queer Conundrum enclave, on the lakeshore, were insulted by this display of conservative excitement. They lifted their own voices in contrarian fervor, until the booming oaths overwhelmed everything else.
“NO NAZIS, NO KKK! OHIO NEEDS A RESET, SEND THE KLAN CRAZIES AWAY!”
Cable news anchor Looper pointed to the rowdy mass and directed his camera operator to focus on the competing factions, now standing face to face.
“DO YOU HEAR THAT, AMERICA! THAT’S WHAT DEMOCRACY SOUNDS LIKE! THAT’S WHAT FREE THINKING AND LIBERTY SOUNDS LIKE! THEY WANT THE FASCIST HORDE TO GO STRAIGHT TO HELL! ALL THE WAY DOWN TO HELL!”
Sheriff Rath scratched traces of beard stubble on his chin. He had turned profusely sweaty, despite the cold. He held his breath as rifles were aimed, sticks and stones were readied, and a dreadful climax approached. In the end, he suspected that no one would exit the situation without carrying scars of battle.
Silently, he made his own petition of faith.
“God help us... Be merciful, Lord! God help us all!”
