American Anarchy

     I was born in Mount Vernon, Virginia on July 4, 1776. My mother had me nearly a year and a half into the war and I never knew my father because he went off to fight before I was born. Mom and I lived on a small farm atop a hill overlooking the vast green of the Virginia country side. We had 4 horses, 3 pigs, 12 chickens, and a half a dozen cows. We had our struggles in those times, but we always helped as much as we could when it came to the soldiers. They came and went, passing through our town and continued on to different places. Sometimes some of them needed medical help, while others were just trying to make their way back home.

     Mom loved our country more than she loved me, even though she never admitted it. When Dad went off and died, she fell in love with the war. “Your father loved this country, Mathias,” she said, wringing her hands as silent tears ran down her puffy cheeks. “He loved it so much he left me for it. He left us for it. This war needs to be won for us, for your father.”

     The war lasted for the first 7 years of my life; I still remember my mother clutching her handkerchief, sobbing and praying by the fireplace with joy when we won. We had heard the news from William, our neighbor who had gone off to fight. He had come galloping through the village one cold September night in 1783, boasting to us all, “It’s over! The Redcoats have lost, the Nation is ours!”

     Life didn’t feel much different after that, except that the adults in Mount Vernon were always excited about something or other. It was rumored that after George Washington was elected into the presidency he would be coming back here, to Mount Vernon. He owned the mansion that I lived next to, and it sat empty for years while he was in the war. My mother knew his wife, Martha. When she came to town she, my mother, and the other women of the town often went over for tea.

     I’d always been interested in George Washington. He was our “new born country’s hero,” as my mother called him. I thought him brave to fight the Redcoats and win. When mother told me he would head the country, I thought it only right. The grown-ups all around me agreed, more so because he was a resident of Mount Vernon and gave our little town a powerful name. I’d wondered what it would be like to meet him when he did return. I’d never known my father, and often became jealous of my friends whose fathers lived through the war and came back to tell the tale. I thought of how since Washington was my neighbor, although I’d never met him, maybe he could teach me a thing or two. I wanted to go into the army, after all. I didn’t want to waste away on some miserable little farm with my mother for the rest of my life. I wanted honor, integrity, power, fame, glory. All the things my father never achieved when he went off and got himself killed. I brought this idea up to my mother one night at supper but she blew her top when I suggested it.

     “Mathias Evans!” She had shouted, pounding her fist down on the table. “You will not bombard our new president with silly questions about your hopes to be as great as he. You will respect him, and keep your mouth firmly shut if you are ever to be in his presence, do you understand?”

     Needless to say I never brought that up again.

     But I did meet Washington soon after that, and I did exactly as my mother told me not to. I still remember that day when I was 13 years old. My friends and I were playing on the hills, having our usual banter.

     “Look, Mat,” my best friend Frank said, walking alongside me down the valley with a crafted wooden sword in his hands. “Everyone knows Jacob Williams has the fastest horse in Virginia.”

     I had snorted in response, “Jacob Williams only thinks he has the fastest horse because he hasn’t raced me yet.”

     Danny, Frank’s little brother, ran to catch up and exclaimed, “But, Mat! Betsy’s gotten old, hasn’t she? The last time you raced her she nearly collapsed.”

     “I’m not talking about Betsy, Dan. I’m talking about Fish; I started training him a few weeks back without my mother knowing. He’s one of the fastest horses I’ve ever seen.”

     “Wow,” Danny murmured, blue eyes alight with awe, “You’ll have to show us someday, won’t he Franky?”

     “He’ll be damned if he doesn’t,” Frank said, grinning at me mischievously.

     We continued walking along the hillside, the sun gleaming above us and making our hair stick to the back of our necks. We were coming up to the Washington Estate. We walked by it every day while making our way through the valley. We all expected it to be empty as usual, but as we came up closer we realized the Estate was buzzing with sound and life. I stopped short before anyone could see us and grabbed Danny and Frank to hide behind a thick oak tree.

     “Bander,” A firm voice commanded, speaking to one of the black men bringing things inside of the house. “Take the portrait of Martha up to the east wing. Be careful when setting it down, the wood is fragile.”

     George Washington stood in front of his porch, hands in his pockets, his face blank as he took in the work around him. He was a powerful man, one could tell by just observing him. But he looked humble, aged, and dignified in every sense of the word. We were close enough to where we could hear him speak and he us. So, when Frank opened his mouth and said, “Is that George Washington?” before I could cover his face to shut him up, the President’s eyes snapped to our hiding place in an instant.

     “Who goes there?” He commanded.

     Feeling a sudden rush of bravery from finally seeing the most powerful man in our nation, I stepped from behind the tree and approached him.

     “My name is Mathias Evans, sir. I live on the farm just east of here. My friends and I were just walking down the valley. We weren’t expecting anyone to be here.”

     Frank and Danny had finally come out of their hiding place then, and Washington smiled at the three of us. He had walked down the steps and towered over when he finally stood in front of us.

     “Pleasure to meet you, young Evans.” He said smoothly, while holding out a hand for me to shake. I couldn’t help feeling extremely important in that moment.

     We spent that entire day with the almighty George Washington. He let us explore the grounds and invited us all for supper at night fall. Frank and Danny couldn’t stay because they lived on the other side of town and needed to return home. But I had to stay; there wasn’t a chance that I would miss it. So, I ran back home and hurriedly told my mother the news, all while her face was pale. But, she and I dressed in our best clothes and made our way back to the Washington Estate for supper.

     My mother and Lady Washington got along famously and they kept to themselves for most of the night. I sat with the president and listened intently to him tell tales of the war and of his friends that helped build the country.

     “Do you enjoy farming, Mathias?” The president asked me that night.

     I turned sour at the thought. “No, sir. I wish to go into the army. I want to be as great of a man as you someday.”

     Washington eyed me curiously then, “Why is that, boy?”

     I shrugged, pushing my peas around my plate and avoiding eye contact in procrastination. “I want my life to be meaningful. I don’t want to end up like my father. Forgotten and without a legacy.”

     “You are you father’s legacy, young Evans. Whatever you do reflects the life of your father.”

     I glanced at him, “You really think so?”

     “I do. If you’d be willing, when I have time and Martha and I stay at the Estate, I could teach you all that I know.”

     I couldn’t breathe in that moment. I was looking at George Washington, the first president of the newly born United States of America, the most powerful man in the nation, and he was offering to teach me to be great, just like himself. It was all of the things I had ever dreamed about wrapped into a single day.

     With no hesitation, I replied, “It would be an honor to learn all that you know."

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     President George Washington was my mentor from the age of 13 to 21. He taught me how to be a powerful fighter, leader, and man. He wasn’t always around Mount Vernon, obviously because he was the president. In the spam of that eight years though, he taught me to be proper fighter and made sure I was properly educated and put my skills to good use. I helped my mother on the farm, of course, but my main focus was to become the most powerful man in all of Virginia. I’d had a falling out with Frank and Danny and all my other pals at the time. I’d like to think they were jealous of my relationship with the president, but it may very well have been that I never used any of my time to do things with my friends. I only ever wanted to practice what Washington taught me; I had my mind set on becoming heroic.

     Washington convinced me not to join the army until I was past 21. “You’ll have much more to learn from my experiences than from the new founded army. Wait it out, Mathias. You’ll feel more rewarded if you do.”

     Nearly all of my best memories have to do with Washington. When I was 15, he had come to town for an extended weekend and brought me my first gun. We had only trained with knifes and swords before that, but he found I was ready for the next step. He brought a rifle and a pistol, but most importantly he let me use his musket with the bayonet still attached to it. I caught dinner that night, and I was beaming.

     Washington wasn’t always full of praise, but I didn’t mind. If I did something well, he would only smile and give a single bow of his head to show I had succeeded. But when it came to making a mistake, he would tell me right away how to fix it. It worked, the way he taught me. I learned to do my best and be the best to show him I was worth teaching.

     In the final year of Washington’s presidency, I noticed his weariness more than ever. As the years went on, he only grew more stressed and had less and less time to train with me. Not to mention, he was getting older. He was a prideful man and didn’t let minimal issues like age discourage him.

     In July of 1797, only a few months out of his presidency, Washington came to Mount Vernon to stay. It had been nearly two months since I’d seen my mentor, but I understood his duty to his country. I was excited to see him though; my 21st birthday had been just two weeks prior and I’d heard from travelers that Congress had just created the United States Marine Corps, and I wanted in. I wanted him to be the first to know of my decision, even before my mother.

     So on that day I went to call, walking up the familiar steps of what I considered to be my second home, and knocked swiftly on the front door to the Washington Estate.

     Lady Washington answered the door, her eyes blazing with uncertainty.

     “Good afternoon, Martha.” I drawled, smiling at her. She seemed relieved that it was only I at the door and quickly ushered me in.

     “Oh, goodness, Mathias, it’s only you. Yes, yes, do come in. George has been wondering when you would come to call.”

     “Is something wrong, Martha?” I asked as I stepped into the foyer. She seemed more than a little frazzled and I could honestly say I’d never seen her so tense.

     She quickly shook her head, gesturing to take my coat. “No dear. It’s – well, George will tell you. He’s in his study.”

     She took my coat, hung it on the rack and walked away without another word. I’d never seen that woman so uneasy; she was a lighthearted soul, everyone in the town loved her charm and wit.

     I felt uneasy walking towards Washington’s study. If his wife was fretting, and she is usually calm and rational, something must be unbelievably wrong. My mind started to wander to the possibilities of what words lay behind the door of my mentor’s study.

     Was he dying? My mind immediately went to the worst possible scenario, and I couldn’t help the fear that crept up my spine.

     I finally reached the door and knocked without a moments’ hesitation. If something was wrong, there was no need to put it off. I needed to face it, not let the fear of what was to come over take me.

     George Washington opened the door and stared at me with wide eyes. He looked as I’d never seen him before: disheveled, panicked, and almost fearful.

     “Mathias,” he began calmly. “I was wondering when you would come.”

     “I waited a little, sir. I wanted to let you and Martha rest before coming to call.”

     He sidestepped and gestured for me to enter. When I walked in he motioned for me to sit in front of his desk.

     “Thank you for the consideration, Mathias.” He settled into his seat, uncomfortably, it seemed.

     There were a few beats of silence as I observed him, waiting to see if he would speak first. He didn’t.

     I cleared my throat awkwardly. I couldn’t remember the last time either of us were speechless in one another’s presence.

     “Sir, is something the matter?”

     He stayed silent, fiddling with a quill in his fingers, his eyes dead set on staring at the parchment upon his desk.

     “Mathias, how often do you familiarize with the news of our nation?”

     “Not often, sir. News doesn’t travel very fast around here.”

     He nodded sullenly before finally placing the quill down and looking into my eyes. “Mathias, what I am going to tell you now is of the utmost secret to the United States of America. If you repeat this to anyone, those living in this new nation will cease to exist as we know it. Do you understand?”

     I nodded at him, feeling the pace of my heart quicken in fear. If the fate of our nation was at stake, I would keep my mouth shut for all of eternity if I had to. My mind was in complete overdrive, there was nothing that could stop the unwanted fear that seeped through my veins like wildfire.

     “Mathias, our government has been under silent siege since I left the presidency.”

      My heart stopped beating then. “What?”

     Washington looked at me firmly, terrified, “A group titled the Subverters have attempted multiple times to infiltrate the new government.” He stood suddenly, walked behind me and began pacing the floors of his study. “They’ve been unsuccessful so far,” he continued, “but the attacks towards myself, along with all those who signed the Declaration and helped to create our Constitution, have been focused upon for assassination.”

     He stumbled then, his hand flying up to his forehead to alleviate the headache that was most definitely upon him.

     “They’ve left letters to all of the most important people in the nation, threatening to overthrow us and take over. We don’t know who they are, why they’re attempting this, or what their motive is.”

     The fear I felt in my heart was crippling. A group was trying to destroy our brand new nation? We fought for this land to be ours, to govern it the way we wanted and be free. My father died for this country. There was no way in hell I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

     I stood then and faced my mentor. The blatant, petrified look on his face told me everything I could possibly comprehend. I could only begin to understand what he must have been thinking. He only just left the presidency and the country was close to going up in flames. The people believed in him to do whatever it took to save us, I believed in him. But he was still just one man. As mighty of a man as he was, he couldn’t singlehandedly save our nation from disaster.

     “Why did this start after you left the presidency, sir?”

     His head snapped to look at me, anguish taking hold of his features, “They want my blood the most.”

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     Washington told me everything he knew about the Subverters that night. Their intent was to burn America to the ground and make this land a place with no government. They wanted free chaotic reign from sea to sea, no matter how many lives it would take. Washington told me that in one of the letters that the Subverters sent, they explained why they were starting with the creators of this nation to die first. They wanted to show the country how powerless all the founding men were. The death of the most important men in the nation would lead to the complete doom of America.

     So far, there was nothing anyone could do about the Subverters. They were ghosts, shadows of longing to bring America to its knees. No one knew who they were, where they were, or how to end them before it was too late.

     After that day, Washington was on lockdown. Army men were posted at his door, day in and day out. He was never left alone for even a second. The government was franticly trying to prepare itself for an invasion of any sorts. They gathered as many men as they could while keeping this entire fiasco a secret from the public.

     Not a single civilian soul had any clue what was going on behind the closed doors of our government. The townspeople of Mount Vernon thought that Washington was dying, and that was why so many armed men were stationed at his house. That was why the most important men would come to call often at the Washington Estate. They thought the great George Washington was slowly ebbing away. But, little did they know, those men were meeting constantly to somehow form a wall around the government, trying to protect it from the inside.

     I kept myself close for this reason. Washington had told his men and his friends that I was to be given complete trust. I knew the ins and outs of the plans; every minor detail, every major strategy, I knew it all.

     So when the most devastating day of my life can to call, I was more than ready.

     I was with Washington and we were taking a walk down the valley, trying to get some well needed fresh air from being stuck inside all day in a meeting. Two soldiers tailed behind us, rifles at the ready, keeping close watch on our surroundings, just in case.

     It was a warm day in August and the sun was beaming from above, giving off a lazy vibe for the day.

     “Sir, do you think we’ll win this battle?”

     “We always do, Evans. We are Americans and we can persevere through anything God throws our way.”

    “Do you truly believe that, sir?”

     He stops short and turns to me, “Don’t you?”

     I shrug, unknowing of what the future is to bring. “I think with the right guidance we can get through anything. But if you’re gone and the rest are executed, who knows what will become of us.”

     “Mathias, the point of this country is freedom. But, with freedom, order needs to be instilled so all those who live to be free are safe. It has to do with guidance, most definitely, but it does not have to do with my guidance. I’ll be gone someday, Evans, as will the rest of my friends. But there will still always be men like us, like you, that will fight to keep this country as it should be.”

     “Do you really believe I’m capable of that?’

     “I believe you’re one of the most capable young men I’ve ever met.”

     That is the last good moment I have of my mentor. Seconds after those words fell past his lips, a gunshot sliced through the quiet sounds of the valley like hell had just risen to earth.

     George Washington fell forward as a bullet ripped clean through his chest; the shock I had seen on his face still paralyzes me to this day. My mouth was open in a silent scream as I watched the only father figure I’d ever had collapse to the ground in a heap. I could not see; my eyes were clouded with sudden tears as I whirled around to find the source of the bullet that attempted to murder my mentor.

     I turned around only to see one of the soldiers that was with us running back towards the Estate. The other was in a pile of blood on the grass, his own life gone for the sake of a traitor. The Subverter must have fired a second shot; one that did not play to my ears.

     I sprang into action then, lifting Washington off the ground with all the force I had. The adrenaline was pounding through me, the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins played in my ears as I moved as quickly as I possibly could back to the Estate.

     I finally reached the steps to the back porch and hauled Washington up them.

     “Help! Someone, help him!” I screamed franticly, catching the attention of some other posted soldiers.

     Five men had come rushing to my side at once, lifting Washington off my back and bringing him straight inside.

     “What the hell happened?!” One of the soldiers grabbed me by the shoulders. I threw him off and made a swift look around the grounds.

     “One of the soldiers, he shot Washington. He ran off but I don’t know where he went.” I turned and looked at the soldier, keeping my voice level, “Search the grounds. Find that traitor.”

     Four soldiers went off in search of the assailant, while I made my way inside after Washington.

     I arrived to complete and utter chaos. People all around me were screaming, running for towels, water, someone was sent to get the town doctor. But I knew it was all pointless. George Washington was going to die. I didn’t have to see the damage done to him to know that his legacy was coming to an end on this very day. I had watched the bullet rip through him, and although he survived the initial blow, it would kill him eventually.

     Martha was kneeling at his bedside when I approached, sobbing into her handkerchief and clutching his hand. I was surprised to see him conscious but glad that I’d get to speak to him.

     He was murmuring to her quietly amongst all the panic. He said something that ceased her crying and she stood up, kissed his forehead and made her way for the door.

     She spotted me as she exited and pulled me in for hug. When she pulled away she whispered brokenly, “He wants to see you.”

     She walked away and I walked into the room to say my goodbyes. The atmosphere was tense when I entered, but the room had finally stilled from its chaos. I took silent steps toward where he lay and willed myself to keep strong. My hands were shaking and I couldn’t ignore the pain in my chest as I knelt down at his bedside.

     “Mathias,” he turned to me and spoke, his voice weak but somehow still laced with power. “Promise me you’ll win this battle. Don’t do it for me, do it for your nation. It needs you know more than ever.”

     “I promise, sir.”

     It was silent for a second before I spoke my last words to George Washington, and he his last to me.

     “It has been an honor to learn all that you know.”

     He smiled painfully, and gave a single nod off his head. “’Tis well.”

                                        __________________________________

     The day George Washington died was also the day all of the nation’s fathers were executed by the Subverters. Only hours after Washington’s death, a soldier from Pennsylvania came charging towards the Washington Estate with news that would bring the nation to a standstill.

     Not only was the first president of the United States of America dead, but so was the second. John Adams, along with his vice president Thomas Jefferson, his entire cabinet, and every other person that worked for the new government, was assassinated by Subverter traitors. All the buildings used by the government in Pennsylvania, New York and Virginia were attacked and its inhabitants annihilated. Their lives were lost to traitors of what was the United States.

     Needless to say, the public was terrified. They had no idea what was happening or why suddenly all the leaders of our nation had become extinct from our world. The Subverters took that fear and made themselves known to the public.

     From that moment on, the United States of America ceased to exist. The Subverters burned the Constitution, killed the men, women, and children from across the nation who refused to join them, and murdered nearly every Southern slave owner in the south.

     They boasted about freedom, freedom they believed came with complete nihilism.

                              ___________________________________________

     The date is April 21, 1802, my son. The Americans have been at war with the Subverters since October of 1797. It is a tiring battle, but I will never abandon the fight. I am writing this story for you so that if I don’t make it through this war, you will know why your father died defending his country.

     I love you very much and nothing would please me more than to come home to you when the war is won and I know you are safe.

     Know this, my son; the world is an infinitely terrifying place. Not everything will work the way you hope. I wish I could say that we live in the time I was able to grow up in. This land is no longer America. It will never be unless my men and I win the war.

                                                          Until then, this is anarchy.