Secession 2035 (Part 1)
It all started with the horrible “Greater Depression.” It was so much worse than the Great Depression for many reasons - so bad, people finally became desperate enough to change their circumstances and throw off the shackles of progressive government. Secession had become a reality for financial reasons, but the cultural concerns remained to be dealt with. States, starting with Texas, were struggling to learn how to govern a dependent citizenry made up of different regions, races, and classes - each making demands. Almost all were now simply different shades of progressivists rocking in a sea of contention, with no clear lighthouse pointing to a truly conservative 1861-like governance.
When the federal government tried to clamp down on the public with so-called security measures in response to scarcity and runaway inflation, people responded much like the Canadian trucker convoy of 2022 had. Then, with a destroyed economy and lawlessness, state governments started to behave with survival in mind and not along party lines. This yielded coalitions between states and serious talk of secession, as all faith in the federal government was lost. Secession became a reality, but not without fierce resistance to changes from corporate America, the U.S. government, and those who loved U.S. government subsidies and pensions. Metropolitan areas opposed secession of their states as corporations fought to maintain their assets and financial interests that were backed by the U.S. government.
It was January 8th, 2035 and a cold northern wind was blowing hard on downtown Rome, Georgia. The people of the day in Rome, (as well as the whole South and much of the West) were facing perplexing issues regarding their future, and a menace just as unrelenting as the cold northern wind bearing down on them. Paul McCoy was attending his usual duties in his hardware store. My coworkers and I were busily putting up the freight rushed in from the back cargo doors. I was trying to balance a ladder in my hand off of a flat cart when Paul said, “Ralph, have you seen the latest news on the elections for the senate race?
I said, “No, why? Same as several months now, right?"
He said, “No, this is getting more serious." He explained that a candidate from Troup County had proposed a much more blunt answer to the Atlanta problem. Paul casually passed the paper to me as he walked briskly toward some unknown destination, disappearing as he hung a left several aisles up.
I glanced at the paper. The headline read “Independent Senate Candidate Miles Proposes Strangulation of Atlanta”. Hurriedly trying to get the gist of the article, I saw Miles had proposed truckers take stand on Atlanta much like that of the Trucker’s Convoy against vaccine mandates in 2022. Miles’ plan suggested that rural truckers stop servicing Atlanta while rural militias blockade roads until Atlanta complied with state orders. Wow.
It had been four months since Georgia had seceded, along with 25 other states or parts of states since then. Things were not going well. The urban centers were in deadlock with states that had chosen to secede, as they did not have anything close to a conservative rule. Many liberals looking to make a name for themselves hurriedly established new contracts to supply their interests in the large cities of the seceding states. They rejected the notion that they were no longer a part of the American Empire, claiming to be patriots standing against tyranny of backward Southerners, irrational wild Western men, and racist, rural values in general. The ever-growing minority and foreign presence in Atlanta had been turned on the people of Georgia. The Independent State of Georgia had managed to come into existence by a narrow vote when a few key unexpected ‘yeas’ that no one saw coming proved critical.
Stocking the ladders, I was in a daze of unbelief that any of it had taken place at all. Without Texas seceding first, none of the other Southern or plains states would have.
Paul and Victor came around the corner with a load of lumber, trying to move it as customers were waiting on the endcaps to get through. The store was busy with people who were preparing and rushing to grab whatever they could in case of blockade by the U.S. government.
I commented in passing, “Wow, it’s about time. We have to take more serious measures.” The two nodded in agreement as an inquiring customer approached. While Miles' measures might have seemed harsh just a year ago, now every Southerner wanted this. They knew that it was a necessity considering the U.S. government’s increasing threats of blockade by certain politicians in cahoots with the Atlanta, Charlotte, and Columbia elite. They were using big money to try to keep their supply routes open between their cities and port cities or cities with river access such as Augusta, Savannah, Charleston, Wilmington, Norfolk, Jacksonville, New Orleans, Houston, and Mobile.
As Victor and Paul came back down the aisle with Victor turned to me. “At least we still have some true Southerners,” he said as they passed. Though what was left of anything of a conservative people? Those who thought they were conservative cheered secession as if a successful Hail Mary pass had been thrown in a football game thought to be lost, but the provisional government of the Independent State of Georgia was dragging as people soon discovered that the people of 2035 did not have the cultural or even historical ties that those of 1861 did. In fact, some were wondering if there was enough substance at all to keep certain factions together. No compromise was coming easy for governance within the state and certainly all Georgia had was a loose coalition for defense with Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Oklahoma, Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, West Virginia, the southern half of Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, a portion of Missouri, then Kansas and Wyoming, Montana, and the Dakotas. Apart from this there was also a loose coalition of Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Colorado, Oregon, Idaho and rural California, which was trying to break away from metro California, as well as a similar issue with eastern Washington state.
As Paul, Victor, and I broke away for lunch we discussed how Atlanta was threatening the state with its allegiance to the U.S. government, and how most seceded states were experiencing similar issues with a few cities or isolated counties. Some even had multiple counties in a cluster resisting state governance, as in Virginia, North Carolina, Missouri, Tennessee, and Texas. Florida was seemingly on the verge of being split into two entities with Tallahassee, then Orlando, and Miami throwing their weight for opposite sides, and most of rural Florida siding with Tallahassee. Miami and Houston were pushing to become independent city-states, however, and aid they gave the U.S. was of concern at the moment.
As we discussed whether we could get Miami to join our side for defense purposes, someone walked in telling of atrocities to their cousins in Atlanta. Gangs of blacks had starting killing elderly whites who could not make it out of the cities, and all the trouble that had broken out there brought the death toll into the hundreds in just a few months. Upon threat of secession, it was as if the powers of Washington D.C. had unleashed BLM and Antifa times ten in the cities. With the conservative strongholds miles away, the elderly were helpless in many cases as some were not evacuated soon enough. City officials in Atlanta protected it Ralph Northam-style. This was a much more brutal incident. City officials only stepped in to quell fires that had been started by white anarchists and Antifa-type groups to protect homes and office areas of the wealthy, in order to prevent massive evacuation of the city toward Augusta, Charleston, or even ultimately to New England. The U.S. government froze people’s assets who did not move them to state banks in time.
Meanwhile, corporations did not want to give up business as usual. They were using every progressive weapon imaginable to destroy the will of the people to back their state governments. “But, we can’t back out now!” Paul said. Some feared retaliation for not paying federal taxes. Even now, months later, as the U.S. government condemned those aiding the rebellion in the form of unpaid federal taxes.
Victor spoke up. “Well, I'm glad most the rural areas finally come together after the initial squabble, and maybe with our fields and guns we are good for self-sufficiency, I hope the U.S. government doesn’t send troops or use federal employees disgruntled about not being paid, or veterans over their pensions being withheld, against us.”
Then after a moment of thought I exclaimed, “No! I don’t think they will risk the damage done to business by force. Businesses don’t want any more interruption in profits than they have already suffered, and the seceded states have leverage in negotiating new trade and tariffs.”
“Um, yeah, some corporations are starting to cooperate more, now that they see we are not giving up!” added Paul. “You know income tax, and trade competition are the U.S. government’s main concerns, and as integrated as this society had become in business its very messy!”
The next morning, I was rather sore from a hard day’s work. Still groggy, I felt almost snatched out of bed by the sense that something was abnormal. The dog was barking ferociously at something or someone outside. I peered out the side of the bedroom blinds to see lights, as it was still early, and now there was an unknown vehicle in the yard. Hurriedly getting more properly dressed and sliding some shoes on, I went out the bedroom and down the hall where the dog was barking relentlessly. “Shhhh! It's fine, puppy, it’s fine.”
Fighting the dog out the door, I close the door behind me. Once my eyes adjusted, I could make out Paul and Victor. “Hey Ralph! Tried to call ya. Sorry for the intrusion!” yelled Paul as he stepped out of the driver’s side of his truck. Victor stuck his head out the window nervously.
“What’s going on, Paul?" I asked. He explained he needed help. One of his suppliers, located closer to Atlanta than we would care to go, was having trouble with “federal patriots” on the roads, railways, and ports. Paul needed goods for the store as people were buying out everything at the hardware store. Paul could not find another supplier close by who would have anything promised for a good while.
“Ralph, get your gun. And we need to hurry up.” said Victor. After jumping in the back of the large truck, the three of us armed and ready, I was pondering just what we would run into. Victor was telling of how forces from Atlanta had taken goods thought to be needed for the large city from some warehouses, and there had been a threat to Paul’s only available supplier halfway to Atlanta.
I wasn’t so nervous until we got out of Floyd County and saw the people in tents along the roadway, and those who were desperately trying to get away from now-totalitarian Atlanta. Yes, the Corporations and CNN, MSNBC, Fox News were saying the city was better equipped and stocked, and all was well, and that secession was just leveraging tool for radicals as they are bought out by big corporations. The message would have perhaps been more effective against us had the leftist Antifa-and-BLM-types not started craziness in opposition to “White Supremist Secession”. This was funny to me, due to Southern Paul being half-black. I was only happy that despite race, some people still knew that being Southern was what mattered.
As we were going eastward down the road, there were flashing lights ahead. The air got thick and tense and we were all nervous about what lay ahead. As Paul slowed down behind the car in front of us and we were trying to make out what the issue was, Victor abruptly said, “Oh no. I’m looking at social media. Some people got in a firefight along the road ahead. There was a crash. I don’t know if it was robbery, or what, from the social media posts.”
We were now close enough to hear the cops through our rolled-down windows. “Yesterday, there were more people along this roadside here, shots rang out early this morn…” We were really trying to listen in, as now we could see a car flipped over, and at least two more cars hugging trees. “…it may be a while before this clears completely…”.
This was not exactly what Paul wanted to hear. Paul nervously began texting his wife to tell her we didn’t know how long we would be sitting there. Victor called the supplier to check if everything was fine. “Yeah, we hope to get there before you run out,…what you have to move all the merchandise soon…” The moment was very tense, as none of us really wanted to go any further, and we were stuck, at that. Paul, as well as his customers back in Rome, needed those supplies in anticipation of who-knows-what, as things had been chaotic since the secession of Texas.
After sitting in the truck, we finally started going. There was no thrill in this situation, and not much was said as we drove along. We looked for updates on situations close to Atlanta on news and social media. Finally, we got to our destination, taking a wide turn around a tall gate, and we saw trucks backing up as we rolled in. A company representative knocked on Paul’s window. We had all been distracted, looking to our right at the frantic and unorganized manner the loading was taking place, and how all the faces were grim.
“Who am I speaking to?” the rep asked, holding a pen and writing pad.
“Paul’s Dixie Hardware out of Rome, Georgia and this is our list of…”
He was interrupted by the rep. “Let me make sure you are one of our dedicated customers, since we are trying to service them first”.
“Ok,” replied Paul, as the man grabbed a store laptop from a nearby table, and crouched looking for the name and information on our paperwork.
“Back the truck up to the last dock on the end,” he instructed, and Paul set in motion and backed up to the dock. We were all somewhat relieved and a little less tense as we got out, loading the truck as the supplier’s men brought out our order.
“You know Victor, we really could have used another truck, because…” I began.
“Now, Ralph, let’s not even think about it. This load is a blessing. We have all been too stressed. Besides, they might not even have this whole load to supply us with.” We were steadily moving boxes of materials needed for households during emergencies. The continuous work there for two hours and a half took our minds off of present troubles, and we were almost enjoying ourselves. Victor and I shoved the load forward, and were letting down the door on the back of Paul’s large truck, when all of a sudden there was a loud ruckus from a few loading docks down. We anxiously exchanged looks. It didn’t sound right.
“What the hell is that?” Paul said. He was trying to look around trucks and slowly walking towards the sound. Victor was trailing close by, as I was keeping up on the opposite end of the trucks in the same direction.
As we stepped cautiously closer, we heard “What the hell do you mean you can’t service me these materials! They are sitting in your damn warehouse! Now you fat son of bitch tell them to open the cargo doors…” An angry stranger was yelling at one of the supplier reps.
“But sir, you cut in line! And besides, we are supposed to supply our loyal customers first…”
The angry man pulled a gun and people around backed up and hid behind whatever they could. The angry stranger started yelling obscenities, “I served the U.S. Army 20 years dammit! Y'all voted to secede and now I gotta move to keep my f---ing business I built after f---ing retirement to get a pension because the ,U.S. gov wont release to traitors! Y'all Mother f----ers owe me!”
My heart was pumping and everyone was scurrying for safety as shots rang out, so loud. I can’t remember how long the incident lasted or how long I was laying there. I was trembling as though I was in another world all by myself.
“Ralph you all right”? I felt a hand along my back, it was Victor trembling, stuttering, “I…I..think…we’re good…its over…” I looked, pressed my palms to the concrete, and looking up with my foot dragging the ground. I slowly came to a knee and saw it.
Paul came around the corner. “Thank God.” He looked over at what we were staring at. We all saw it. Lying there on the ground with a faded Army Veteran hat and blood everywhere was the angry man who had opened fire. A supply rep had shot him. He was on the phone with the police. Everyone else was just trying to get out of there, now.
The trip back to Rome was somber, but we were grateful to God for our lives. Months ago, we all knew there would be trouble once the U.S. government started seizing bank accounts and pensions. All three of us were veterans ourselves, but we knew that had been service to the imperial U.S. government, and no amount of money was more important than our people and our culture. We knew we were blessed to be Southerners. We knew we could survive with the revival of community - true Southern community.
To be continued...
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Clif McGhar is a proud Alabamian and a recent graduate of Liberty University Online with a B.S. in History. He is a member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans and Southern Cultural Center.