Author's Preface
The 2020s
Over twenty years had passed since the high school graduation of the misfits five.
Throughout the many years that went by—as time pressed on, as the entire world underwent countless drastic changes, and as the town of Wallace did much the same—the misfits found themselves on long, difficult, and gradual paths of change, paths that none of them had seen coming. After all, it was quite easy for life to unfold entirely differently from how one might plan it—particularly because of how slowly or unexpectedly all the changes always unraveled throughout life. But the paths of change were inevitable—just as the changes to Wallace were.
On the small narrow street of Jackson Avenue—the tiny road that led downhill from the Taco Bell, connecting to the main road—the street sign at the bottom of the hill, marking the intersecting point between the back road and Williams Street, had weathered and worn over the years, the lettering partially chipped off and the edges spotted with rust, but it remained in its iconic spot just across from the sidewalk where the misfits once walked daily.
The Taco Bell had persisted for many more years before eventually relocating, and eventually, the empty building was torn down and replaced by a bigger and newer one, a large gas station called Gas Express with a black-paved parking lot and six pumps on either side of the building.
In old Wallace—the small and historical part of town—the many shops inside the old buildings on either side of the street shut down, one by one as the years went by, their windows going dark, their doors being boarded—and before long, more shops in old Wallace were closed than were open. This changed slightly when people from out of state arrived and bought a couple of the old historic shops, painting them bright and unfitting colors before opening cafes and bistros instead of normal restaurants and stores like there once were.
Vernon Avenue and Graceview Trailer Park saw little change—but Waltham Place slowly became unoccupied as the houses emptied, the rent rocketing higher and higher, and the homebodies eventually being forced to move away, allowing richer and newer people to move in and take their place. Eventually, the neighborhood became unrecognizable, with primly-trimmed lawns and a home owner’s association regulating everyone who now lived there.
Pineview—the upper-middle-class suburbs where Mohinder once lived—faced drastic change. The large manila houses that were as neat as they were expensive slowly became vacant as the homes were purchased from their owners one by one. By the end of the late 2010s—the entire neighborhood had been bought out, completely empty and fenced off from the town, with nothing but a forest of tall grass and a single Blackstone sign inhabiting the neighborhood. Then, after 2020, the homes were demolished—and by the time the late 2020s came around, the roads that once connected the houses were gone, the land was flattened, and the concrete was spread, a tall, massive data center constructed where many homes used to be.
Down the large main stretch that was Williams Street—two more lanes were added to the road over time, as well as a few new roads that led across it, resulting in more four-way intersections, more streetlights hanging from above, and more turn-offs. New cameras were added, solar panels were strategically placed, and a 5-G tower was built on the north end of the main road, now standing tall in the center of town.
On the south end of Williams Street—the liquor store remained, but it changed management and underwent minor renovations, the pawn shop doing the same, switching owners and changing names a few times. The mini-mall across the street from had long since gone out of business, every shop closing down, the building left vacant and desolate for years before it was eventually bought and demolished—and then, a massive night club called Endzone was constructed in its place.
Behind the liquor store—where the assisted-living apartment complexes resided, or the “poor apartments,” as the misfits once called them—the complexes were given renovations as well, and they were filled with more people than they ever had been in the past, as many people native to Wallace County could no longer afford to live in a house.
Further down the street from the nightclub was a newer area—a neighborhood with few houses, but the houses it did contain were brand new, rather large, and of the best quality that money could buy, as the few people who could afford to have their own homes decided to build them in a new area marked for home construction, as decided by the county commission.
On the west side of town—where a middle-class neighborhood still resided, one that had persisted throughout the decades—some people managed to keep up with their higher rent prices while others resorted to soliciting new roommates in order to help make up the difference.
On the north side of town where the main shopping center was—the K-Mart was long gone, the building left empty for fifteen years before finally being renovated and recreated into a Publix. The BBQ restaurant was still there, as was the laundromat and the McDonalds on the corner—and just down the road from the shopping center, where another mall used to be, was now a vast, empty parking lot that was only used as a flea market on weekends anymore. The regular flea markets across town were mostly empty and unused now, but vendors had decided to set up in the open concrete space where the mall once was, and this became the new go-to flea market for everyone in Wallace County.
The world became more monitored and judgmental, the town had drastically changed despite its people’s wishes, and it seemed that society had devolved into little more than social media and blind compliance—at least, that’s how Octavia saw it, and this was largely why she refused to leave home. Her mother had moved out to the country years ago—but she wouldn’t leave Wallace, and she had many reasons for making this decision, regardless of how much hardship it caused her.
On this chilly October morning—the misfits five, despite not having seen or heard from one another in twenty years—began their days just how they planned, though none of them could have known what the day ahead had in store.
Octavia Blackwell—known online and in her activist communities simply as Ozzie—parked her cerulean KIA Soul on the side parking lot of the courthouse.
She popped the driver door open and stepped out, wearing a dark beanie, a pair of shiny reflective sunglasses, and a tight leather jacket, black and fitted with studs. Her nails painted black and her dangly axe earrings sparkling in the morning sun, she slid a strip of gum into her mouth, walked over to the trunk of her car, and pulled it open, staring down at everything inside—her gun cases covered by towels, a box of canned goods and bottled waters sitting to the side, and a single large picket sign resting atop it all.
Octavia grabbed the picket sign, double-checked her sunglasses—ensuring that her hidden camera was ready—then slammed the trunk shut and marched off.
Across town—in the run-down apartment complex just behind the liquor store—Mohinder had just stepped out of his corner apartment, pulling the door shut and locking it. He hardly looked any different nowadays, though he was slightly more toned and currently fitted with a full EMT uniform, and he checked his phone briefly before marching down the rickety metal stairs to begin his workday.
On the west side of Wallace—where Samuel was currently renting a room from a middle-aged guy—he was pacing around his own dirty bedroom while speaking on the phone, raking his hairs back and talking a mile a minute, a guitar propped against the wood-paneled walls, and an X-Box one sitting on the floor beside a small table where a television stood, all of it surrounded by cans, dishes, and wrappers. He managed to fight his way into his black overcoat without removing the phone from his ear, yammering away at his sister as he did.
“No—fuckin—sht, sht, sht—faaaahk, Hailey, listen! ” Samuel griped impatiently, swatting the air and trying his best to cut her off. “ Fuck that—and fuck him! I am telling you—for the millionth fucking time—you don’t have to live with that cocksucker anymore! Just come here!”
“You don’t have room for me there,” Hailey mumbled sadly into his ear.
Samuel ran a hand stressfully down his face. “Oh my God… oh my God… I don’t care . We’ll make it work. We can get a fucking apartment at the liquor-store shit-hole if we have to. Fuckin’a… just leave that fucking place.”
Hailey was silent for several seconds.
“Listen—listen, I have to go, but we’re not done here,” Samuel ranted, snapping his spiked choker around his neck and grabbing his guitar. “I’m fuckin’ running late as it is.”
“What? I thought you were off today,” Hailey said.
“Yeah—I’m off at the auto shop, but I have a gig today, and it’s two fuckin’ towns away,” Samuel clarified. “I have to go—jus—I’ll tell ya’ what. Meet me at the Endzone tonight, and bring your stuff. I’m bringing you here. Just make it look like you’re going out to the club for the night, all right? He doesn’t have to know a goddamn thing.”
“Okay,” Hailey murmured reluctantly.
“Okay—love you bye,” Samuel sputtered, hanging up and rushing out of the house on the corner of Kingsbury Drive.
Meanwhile—on the south side of town, far past the apartments and the nightclub, was the hidden side of Wallace, the spacious, beautiful area, lush with autumn trees and the occasional big house visible from the street. This was the place where the newest homes were being built—and the first one that a person would see upon driving down this road was up a long, vast hillside, surrounded by trees on either side with a single winding driveway leading directly up to it, the three-story house painted a deep blue with white windows and a dark roof, complete with a balcony that hovered from the third floor, as well as a rounded driveway just beside the home.
This pricey, extravagant house belonged to a particularly prolific landlord, business owner, and county commissioner for Wallace County—and the sleek white door of the house eased open, the man strolling outside and puffing on a cigarette. He stepped out into the sunlight as autumn leaves gusted by, his face mostly concealed beneath the brim of a slightly lopsided hat, a black one that tented over his dark sunglasses. He wore a slender velvet coat of a deep blue color, one with a soft collar of fur, and his hands harbored many shiny rings, one of them holding the glistening silver end of a stylish walking cane.
He slowly raised his head, exhaling a cloud of smoke, the sunlight just able to reach the stubble-spotted chin of his cocoa brown complexion.
Eli then turned to the path that led over to his driveway, seeing that his shiny black Lincoln was waiting there for him, and his driver—an older gentleman with silver hair, a man named James—stood readily beside the driver door.
He began to march toward the car, his cane thumping lightly across the concrete as he did.
“Where to today?” James asked, reaching over and opening the back door for him.
“County commissioner’s office… over at the courthouse,” Eli replied, sliding his cane into the car. “And…”
He turned and faced the driver fully, reaching into his coat.
“I think I’mma hit the club tonight… and chill out there for a while,” Eli told him. “So, after you drop me off there later on… then you can go ahead and take the night off, my man. And take yourself a lil’ vacation over the weekend.”
He pulled out a small stack of hundreds, tightly-bundled with a rubber band, and he handed it to him.
James’s eyebrows raised, slowly taking the money and staring at him in surprise.
“And you tell Gloria to get well soon,” Eli added, raising a finger at him. “Spend time with her while you still got it.”
Then, without waiting for a response, he sank into the back of the car and pulled the door shut.
James stared down at the money in his hand for a moment longer before he climbed into the driver seat and closed the door. He started the car and drove in a slow circle around the driveway, cruising down it and beginning the ten-minute journey to the north side of town.
And on that side of town—Octavia rounded the corner, blowing a bubble with her gum and marching powerfully down the sidewalk with her picket sign propped against her shoulder.
Just as she’d expected—a crowd of people were standing at the bottom of the courthouse stairs, some with their own picket signs, one even with a lawn chair, a cooler, and an Aldi bag full of snacks for all of the protesters to partake in.
The sidewalk bordering the street was positively filled with people today, all of whom were here for the same reason—to protest against another data center being built on the east side.
Octavia made her way across the crowd, a few familiar faces wheeling around and greeting her with smiles and waves. A little ways ahead—a slender man stood speaking to an older woman, a man who looked much younger than he was, with big dark eyes and smooth brown hair that was fashioned into a high, stylish comb-over.
Octavia flashed a faint smirk at the sight of him; he had what she described as a baby face, a face that was far too cute to be imposing, despite how much activism he played a part in.
The brown-haired man turned and spotted her, then gave the older woman a farewell before approaching her.
“Hey Steve,” Octavia said with a wave.
“Heya Ozzie,” the guy named Steve replied, pocketing his hands and glancing around. “Ahhm… anyone here yet?”
Octavia choked out a laugh. “Well, shit… I don’t know, Sherlock Holmes. Whaddo you think?”
Steve glimpsed around the crowd again, then chuckled and shook his head. “No, I meant… the commissioners.”
“Oh…” Octavia laughed and planted her face into her palm for a second. “Okay, wow, I’m having a dumbass attack today. Yeah, no… I haven’t seen anyone important-looking show up yet, but I only just now got here, so…”
“Yeah, me too,” Steve nodded. “Oh, real quick, before anyone can overhear me and think I’m stupid… I’m like really new to this, so… what does the acronym stand for again?”
“The acronym for what? The group?” Octavia asked.
“Yeah,” Steve affirmed. “The ETC, or whatever… um… what does that stand for?”
Octavia stared at the simple look on his face, her mouth curling into another half-smile.
“Well… officially, and on paper… it stands for Ending Tyrannical Corruption,” she explained.
Steve made a slow, strange nod, squinting skeptically at her.
“Ah-huh,” he uttered, slightly cocking his jaw and biting his lip for a moment. “And… does that mean it has a different meaning unofficially , or…?”
Octavia’s smile grew. “Yeah. It had a different meaning when I started it… and the original definition is still the canon one, as far as I’m concerned.”
Steve stared at her. “You gonna tell me what it is…?”
“Maybe. Sometime,” Octavia teased. “Not here.”
“’Kay. So… do you even know who the county commissioners are right now?”
“Ahh… not… really.”
Steve laughed and swiped his phone screen, opening the browser tab. “Lemme look this up real quick…”
“I just never have to worry about it,” Octavia remarked. “I always end up learning stuff on the fly just by talking to the older people in this group. They always end up knowing what I don’t. They probably know all the county commissioners…”
“Oh hey—sweetie, there’s one right there,” a nearby woman, an older plump woman named Sheryl, said to Octavia, patting her on the arm and pointing to a shiny Kia Optima that was pulling into the side parking lot by the courthouse. “That’s Misty Davis. I went to high school with her. She’s one who actually does represent the people, because she’s one of us.”
“Oh… sweet, okay,” Octavia nodded, watching the vehicle cruise behind the shrubbery that separated the left parking lot from the courthouse. “Um… sorry, I know this sounds stupid coming from the person who brought us all here, but I have another question…”
“Aw, sweety, you’re not stupid… you’re young, and you’re learning,” Sheryl laughed.
“Well… I know there were four people on the County Commissioner Board like ten years ago. It’s still four, right?”
“Yup, it sure is.”
“Okay… who are the other three county commissioners now?”
“Ooo—I just looked that up, but hold that thought, because incoming,” Steve said, pocketing his phone and wheeling around, watching as the first arriving county commissioner marched into view.
Misty Davis walked around the bushes toward the stairs with a binder tucked under her arm, petite, slim, and wearing a tightly-fitted blue jacket, her hair short, straight, and blonde, and she had a pair of dangling earrings that sparkled in the sunlight.
“Misty!” Sheryl cried out, jutting her hand up and rushing toward her to get her attention.
A few other people turned their heads and approached the commissioner as well, Octavia also striding toward them, picket sign still propped on her shoulder.
Misty turned and smiled, greeting Sheryl with a brief hug, and they traded small talk for a moment before the commissioner’s eyes shifted over to Octavia, landing on her sign. The picket sign read NO MORE DATA CENTERS, and Misty stared at it for a second before sighing and making a sideways nod.
“I know,” the commissioner uttered. “I know exactly how you feel. That’s the main reason I’m here today—to ask them what the hell’s going on with the data center.”
“We were all under the impression that it was voted out,” Steve remarked. “But they’re making a new one anyway?”
“Yeah… I heard,” Misty replied disdainfully. “It was a three-to-one vote on no more data centers, and it was decided that there won’t be any more built in Wallace County.”
Octavia, Steve, Sheryl, and the others standing nearby them all exchanged strange looks with one another.
Misty read the question off of all of their faces before she continued. “Yeah… and apparently there’s one set to be built on a plot of land that was meant to be for a business that Judas was gonna start up. I plan to ask how and why that happened.”
“Wait—Judas Monterey?” Sheryl tried to clarify.
Misty nodded at her.
“Who’s that?” Octavia asked.
“Another county commissioner,” Steve reported, pulling out his phone and raising it briefly. “He was on the list, too…”
“He’s the one from California,” Sheryl mumbled grimly to Octavia, rolling her eyes. “He’s one of the people who just showed up here and started changing every damn thing…”
“Wait… okay, hold on,” Octavia muttered, raising a hand and making a face. “This guy is one of the commissioners, and he owns that land where the data center’s gonna be?”
“Mhm. And he was the only one who voted for the data center,” Misty informed, lowering her voice. “But you didn’t hear that from me…”
“He can’t just act independently against the majority vote of the board,” Octavia knew. “That’s illegal.”
Misty raised her brows, shrugging and nodding. “Yeah… my thoughts exactly. That’s why this conversation is gonna be really important, because he’s about to land himself in some serious trouble if this is what it looks like. We’ve already got enough water and power issues here now because of one data center being here. We don’t need more.”
Sheryl and many others applauded her for saying this. Misty replied by giving them all a smile and a wave before turning on her heel and marching up the wide concrete stairs.
After she was gone, Steve looked to Octavia with confusion.
“I don’t get why some Joe-blow nobody from California would come here and start breaking the law just to do the bidding of the federal government and get more of their data centers built here,” he commented. “If Judas is just another one of those people who moved here from the west coast to open up cafes and all that… that’s one thing. And that’s annoying, don’t get me wrong… but… that’s not on the same level as like… aiding in federal government tyranny. What’s the connection between the federal government and this nobody from California?”
“That’s a good question,” Octavia mumbled gravely.
“And there he is,” Sheryl mumbled, patting Octavia’s arm and motioning over to the shrubbery again.
They turned—and this time, they saw a tall, slender man with straight blonde hair that was just long enough to hang over his eyes, parted to the side and neatly-combed. He wore a slim, dark suit that was a fairly deep shade of violet, and he had a narrow face and sharp blue eyes, his face rather expressionless.
This man—Judas Monterey—walked onto the sidewalk from the parking lot and stormed directly past all the protesters without giving them so much as a glance, ignoring all of their greetings, yells, and picket signs. He marched up the stairs and went into the courthouse as if nothing at all was going on.
“Yeah… he looks California,” Steve snarked, making Octavia choke out a laugh.
“Looks like he’s got a stick up his ass,” a skinny bearded man chided from nearby them, and Steve and Octavia both found themselves chuckling.
“Oh… and here’s Jefferson Stone,” Sheryl reported, pointing at the next commissioner to emerge from the parking lot beyond the bushes. “He’s a little bit more of a mystery to me. I don’t know him. He votes against bad things sometimes… and then other times, he doesn’t. I can’t tell whose side he’s on half the time. He’s the wishy-washy one, in my opinion.”
They all watched as commissioner number three walked into view, a large, stocky man in a jet black suit, with a jovial face and a goatee that reached into a short brown beard that unraveled along his jaw. His big, meaty hands were enclosed by his sides as he headed up the stairs toward the courthouse, and he too paid no mind to the protesters all around.
“I hope they talk about what they need to talk about in there,” Steve said. “Seems like Misty wants to, but God knows if the rest of them are even gonna bother hearing her…”
“Oh… I’m gonna make sure they do,” Octavia replied, stepping toward the stairs.
“Wait—what’re you doing?” Steve asked, grabbing her and pulling her back, then quickly letting go. “Sorry. Just—what—you’re gonna barge in on the meeting?”
“No… I’m gonna be a part of it,” Octavia replied with a smirk. “The Open Public Meetings Act means county commission board meetings have to be open to the public, and anybody can ask them questions whether they’re on the agenda or not.”
Steve paused and stared at her in slight befuddlement. “Okay, so… how is it you know that , but you don’t know who the county commissioners even are? ”
“Dude, I have OCD. When I have something really important to do, I learn as much as I possibly can about it right before, and I can’t stop until I learn every last little thing.”
“Right… except… y’know… who the commissioners are.”
“Screw that… I’m finding that part out now,” Octavia laughed, taking another step up the stairs. “That part isn’t half as important as finding out how all this stuff works so I can get involved. So you wanna come with me, or what…?”
Steve opened his mouth to reply—just when someone in the crowd behind him exclaimed “He’s here!”
Then, he turned around—in fact, most of the people in the crowd were turning to face the street now—and Octavia followed their trails of vision, her eyes landing on the sleek black Lincoln that had just parked alongside the curb.
The back door popped open, and a hand holding a stylish cane emerged from the car before a person did; many people in the crowd seemed delighted to see the fourth commissioner, a few of them even clapping or whistling for him, Sheryl included.
It was a man in a dark overcoat with a fur collar, wearing several rings and a black hat, slightly crooked and with a wide brim that hid much of his face, just as his sunglasses did. The man stood fully from the car, exhaling a smoke cloud and removing the cigarette from his mouth, dropping it to the sidewalk and snuffing it out with his boot, just before nudging the car door with his cane and allowing it to swing shut, the driver slowly cruising away in the Lincoln moments after.
Octavia gently thumped down from the stairs, now standing at Steve’s side and leaning closer to him, muttering something to him under her breath.
“Dude, is the fourth commissioner a pimp …?” she whispered.
Steve choked and covered his mouth, just managing to swallow a sudden laugh.
The fourth commissioner—Eli Riley—raised his head and offered a calm smile to the people nearest him, trading a few handshakes with those who offered one. Within seconds, the protesters were bombarding him with questions, some of them speaking loudly over one another, and Sheryl was forced to shush them so he could answer.
“No… I did not, and will not, vote for the construction of even more data centers in our hometown,” Eli announced. “Y’all best believe I got all the same questions you do… probably even more. And I’m probably even more pissed off, too.”
A few of the crowd members cheered at this—and Octavia suddenly found herself staring, her eyes narrowing, fixating on the fourth commissioner with a piqued interest. His voice was very distinct, specific and unique, so much so, it sounded particularly familiar to her, though she couldn’t place why.
“What would you recommend we do?” someone questioned.
“At this stage of the game… I’d recommend y’all just make yourselves heard, loud ‘n clear,” Eli replied. “And if this matter ain’t dealt with here and now… then you betta believe it’s gonna be handled elsewhere and later by yours truly.”
Sheryl eased to the front of the crowd, seeming rather eager to ask her own question, practically hopping in place as she tried to find a moment to interject. She watched for a minute or two while Eli swapped conversation with the people around her, looking rather impatient, as if she had wanted to speak to Eli about something she’d been mulling over for a very long time.
Finally, she found the right moment to speak.
“Excuse me—hello, do you remember me? Sheryl Bird,” Sheryl introduced, offering her hand. “We haven’t met in person before, but I did send you an email regarding a few different matters involving the board of commissioners, and I wanted to ask—did you read the question at the end of the email? And if you did—do you have an answer?”
Eli’s focus landed on her, staring thoughtfully at her from behind his dark lenses as he returned her handshake.
“I did… I did,” he confirmed. “I read it… and I apologize for not getting back to you promptly, Ma’am, but the question at the end… about if I would join the ETC… I could not answer that, because I’m not fully aware of… what that is.”
“It’s a small community network of people native to Wallace… and it stands for Ending Tyrannical Corruption,” Sheryl explained to him, turning and gesturing to the crowd all around her. “That’s who we all are, and that’s what we all stand for in general. We all get together and trade ideas about the newest laws and changes to Wallace, and we decide how we’re going to deal with them, and if we want to vote against them, and so on… and on rare occasions, when things go wrong, then we’ll meet in person or arrange an actual protest. Most of the meetings are usually online, organized by me and my husband, Alexander… but the website was created by an influencer called Ozzie, and she spear-headed the whole thing.”
Eli made a slow, understanding nod. “And… who is Ozzie?”
Sheryl smiled and stepped aside, motioning to Octavia.
Eli stared, surveying her for a second, his head tilting just the slightest bit. Then, he took a single step forward, seeming to examine her rather astutely.
Octavia stood so close to him now, she was able to see a touch of thin black facial hair above the man’s mouth, and a bit more under his chin. He had short black hair, but it seemed much tamer and sleeker than most African American hair she’d seen in her life, perfectly straight and combed back behind his ears beneath his hat, as if a great deal of effort had gone into making it behave a certain way. His finger tapped along the top of his cane, one of his rings thumping lightly against it, his mouth curling in a smooth, subtle way, forming a mild half-smile with a faint little laugh line that also seemed eerily distinct and familiar to her.
Eli gave a brief glance to the picket sign she held. He read it, then looked to her face again, raising his free hand and offering her a fist-bump.
“Look atcha… out here rallyin’ the town and fightin’ the good fight,” he said in a soft, hushed voice. “Respect.”
Octavia slowly thumped her fist to his, still staring at him in confusion, as she was certain she recognized him from somewhere—and he seemed to recognize her, too. His unique voice, the way his smile looked, his manner of dialogue, and the way he carried himself in general—it all seemed to make a light power on in her mind, but she still couldn’t place the man for the life of her.
“Mrs. Bird… I’mma have to talk to your illustrious founder about all this at a later time,” Eli informed, facing Sheryl and tipping his hat to her. “But our meeting is gonna start in a matter of minutes, so I’ve gotta head on inside. Any of y’all are free to join us in there, long as you keep the chanting and the signs all out here.”
At that, he turned to leave, glancing over at Octavia in passing and making a single nod toward the stairs. Then, he marched onward, walking up the stairs toward the courthouse where the other three commissioners had gone.
Octavia stared after him with perplexed intrigue.
Then—she tossed her sign onto the sidewalk, pulled out her phone, and quickly moved to follow the fourth commissioner, thumping up the stairs and opening the Rumble app as she did.
Steve, Sheryl, and about six other people did the same, heading up to the courthouse just behind her.
As the small group of ETC members trailed after Eli—Octavia navigated through the Rumble app and the Streamlabs app on her phone while she walked, preparing to start a livestream, which she had planned to do as soon as this meeting began today, and she’d mostly set up beforehand.
A large contributor to the success of the formation of the ETC was her pre-existing online community, which was mostly on a website called Rumble, where she routinely livestreamed her own commentary on big news, world events, and conspiracies on a regular basis. Nowadays—with her getting more involved with local events in her hometown—many members of the ETC watched her content, particularly whenever it covered topics and events about their hometown.
Octavia’s attention was divided, and she tried her best to pay close attention to both of her current tasks—keeping up with Eli, and double-checking that everything was set up correctly in her apps for an IRL livestream. When she reached the double-doors of the courthouse, Eli pulled them open and walked inside, and she paused for just a moment, hit GO LIVE on her streaming app, and slid the phone into her jacket pocket—and the camera in her sunglasses was suddenly broadcasting a live feed of everything she was seeing and hearing.
The group of ETC members approached her from behind, and she opened the double-doors and led them all inside, glancing around the spacious lobby area and quickly spotting Eli off to the left, walking down the nearest wide hallway. So, they all strode across the tan-tiled floor and followed him, passing by a couple of rooms, a walk-up service counter, and two elevators as they trekked down the hall.
Eli seemed to be leading all of them toward the room directly at the end of this hallway, one with a set of wooden mahogany doors, which were currently shut. He stopped at the doors, turned to see that the group was marching toward him, and he waited for everybody to catch up before swinging the doors open, Sheryl holding one of them fully open for everyone else while they all walked inside.
Octavia was the first one to enter behind Eli, and she paused for a second to absorb her new environment; before her was a medium-sized room that appeared to be specifically designed for meetings, with two large windows at either side of the adjacent wall, and in front of the windows was a long, narrow table with four black chairs set up behind it. The table with the four chairs—the place intended for the board of commissioners—was facing a disjointed assortment of metal folding chairs, which were meant for any members of the public who wished to attend the meeting, a few of these chairs already occupied by people whom Octavia did not recognize. The room had an old-school look to it, with smooth wooden walls and a floor to match, the ceiling a deep manila color with a single hanging light illuminating the room from the center.
Misty, Judas, and Jefferson were already seated in their respective chairs at the commissioner’s table, and the small group of ETC members made their way into the room, most of them gathering in the front rows of the metal chairs and claiming seats there.
Eli made his way to the farthest commissioner’s chair to the left, sinking into it and leaning back in it with one leg propped atop the other. Octavia and Steve chose seats in the middle row, sitting on the opposite side of the room as Sheryl and the others for a better view of everything—and Octavia found herself seated adjacent to Eli, still eyeing him with vexed interest.
Steve was seated beside her, giving her a look and leaning slightly closer to her.
“To answer your question… no. He’s not a pimp,” he whispered, cracking a smile. “I think he’s just kind of eccentric, and he likes that look. He’s the one commissioner I do know a little bit about… and he’s been here the longest out of all four.”
Octavia barely seemed to hear him, managing a nod.
Steve read her expression, his eyes shifting between her and Eli. “What…?”
Octavia’s mouth drifted agape, making a faint shake of the head. “I don’t… I mean, I don’t remember where from, but… I’m pretty sure I know him.”
Steve made a sideways nod.
“Well… you probably do,” he said softly. “Lots of people do. Do you know how many properties and businesses he owns in Wallace? Have you ever been to that club down at the end of Williams Street…?”
Octavia shook her head again. “No, that’s not… that’s not where I know him from…”
Steve raised his brows, glancing over at Eli, then back again.
“Huh. I have no idea, then,” he mumbled.
Someone shut the double doors, and Jefferson Stone straightened up in his chair, placing a small pair of reading glasses on and sorting through a pile of papers on the table for a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke.
“All right… we have a few things on the agenda today,” he announced. “First thing on the list is… the motion to remove all county restrictions on drinking water storage when harvested by a personal rain-catching system, proposed by Misty Davis. This motion, if passed, will remove all limits on how much drinking water can be stored on any individual’s property, and it will remove the legal requirement of having self-obtained drinking water inspected by an official source. Does anyone have anything to say, or do we wanna go ahead and cast our votes?”
“Ready to vote,” Misty said.
“Yes, same,” Judas uttered.
Eli merely nodded in agreement, sliding his sunglasses off and placing them on the table.
Jefferson looked to the small amount of people sitting before them, and when nobody else spoke up or protested, he nodded and raised his gavel.
“All right… all those in favor of passing the motion to remove all restrictions on drinking water harvested by a personal rain-catching system?” he said, glancing between the commissioners at either side of him.
Eli held up his hand with two fingers raised, still leaned back with his face halfway hidden beneath his hat. Misty sat straighter upright in her chair and held up a hand as well. Judas remained still at the opposite end of the table to Eli, not raising a hand, merely folding his arms atop the table.
Jefferson himself decided to raise his hand, then he tapped the gavel to the sound block beside his stack of papers, making a dull little thump . “All right… three to one… motion passed. Now, next on the list, we have the motion to ban motor vehicles in Market Square… in… wait a minute…”
He trailed off for a second, lifting his papers and squinting oddly at the second thing on his list.
“Huh,” Jefferson muttered. “I could’ve sworn that was illegal already. Market Square is a pedestrian block at the end of old Wallace where the farmer’s market sets up every weekend. It’s always been a place that’s specifically designed for walking.”
“It’s part of the historic area of town, too,” Misty remarked. “It was the very first marketplace to open in Wallace when the town was founded over a hundred and fifty years ago, and people have worked fairly hard to preserve it… up until more recently, anyway. The motion to revoke the ban on motor vehicles in Market Square was proposed and passed four years ago… and that was before you or I were here, Jeff.”
“Ohhh, I see,” Jefferson replied with a nod. “So that was changed when different commissioners were here… gotcha.”
“Mhm. That was back when Donna and Marcus were still in here,” Eli recalled, nodding as he spoke. “Judas certainly got them on his side that day…”
Judas glanced down the table at him for a split second, then looked away with an unreadable expression.
“All right… do we wish to deliberate on this topic, or are we ready to vote?” Jefferson inquired.
“I think most everyone in this room can agree that having newcomers showing up in Wallace and driving into random crowds in Market Square is something we all don’t really want anymore,” Eli said with a laugh.
Misty snickered a bit, Jefferson nodding and shrugging.
“All right… all in favor of passing the motion to reinstate the ban on motor vehicles in Market Square?”
Eli, Misty, and Jefferson all raised their hands, and Jefferson thumped the gavel again.
“Okay, three to one again… motion passed. Now, this last thing on our list is a more complicated issue… and I would strongly advise deliberation for everyone here.”
Jefferson then straightened up his papers again, adjusted his reading glasses, and sighed before reading it off.
“Motion to ban all pending or potential movements to have any more data centers constructed in Wallace County,” he said, his tone seeming to darken as he lowered his paper and faced the others with a serious visage. “This one is a special case, because this was already voted on once before. This issue was discussed in our last meeting, and this motion was actually passed already after the city council put the vote to the people of Wallace, the majority voted no. However—this is a revised version of that motion, and it contains an additional stipulation. This motion dictates that—not only will the construction of more data centers be henceforth banned in Wallace County, but also, anyone who attempts to organize the construction of one is removed from all positions of power in the local government if they are currently involved in it, and they are permanently banned from participating in any voting events, elections or otherwise, posed by the board or the city council. It also dictates that the perpetrator is charged with conspiracy and is prosecuted to the fullest extent to the law.”
“Hell yeah ,” Octavia breathed under her breath, grinning from ear to ear. “Whoever added that motion is a beast .”
“Now… I am not gonna lie. To me, this reads as unnecessary overkill,” Jefferson stated, placing the papers down. “We already have procedures in place to prevent conspiracy and conflicts of interest from affecting the outcome of our votes.”
“Well, Jeff, with all due respect… some of us have reason to believe that whatever those procedures are either aren’t working or haven’t been put into practice,” Misty remarked.
Jefferson turned to her with a perked brow. “How so?”
Misty leaned slightly forward and motioned down the table at Judas. “Mr. Monterey is a land owner… and he disclosed to a shared acquaintance of ours that he intended to use one of his plots of land for a business that he planned to open… but we’ve recently learned that this land is now marked as a future building site for a data center instead. This directly goes against what we and the people of Wallace all voted for, and it is a violation of the law. However, there haven’t been any repercussions at all, and no one has taken any action to correct this, so some of us feel that a stronger motion with heavier rules and penalties is simply necessary now.”
“Um. If I can interject,” Judas finally spoke up, raising a finger and hunching forward. “That is actually not true. I have not acted against the law. If you’re talking about the land I had in north Wallace—I recently sold that land to someone else, and I am not responsible for whatever is going on there any longer.”
Everyone in the room fell momentarily silent.
Misty’s eyes narrowed sharply at him.
“You must have done that very recently,” she said perceptively. “Because the last time I looked up the lot number, your name was still listed as the owner.”
“Well… yeah, it was recent,” Judas shrugged. “But so what? There’s no law against me selling my own land.”
“No… there isn’t, even with convenient timing,” Misty quipped in response. “Who did you sell it to?”
“I’m sorry… that’s personal information,” Judas replied, intertwining his hands atop the table and slinging his stringy blond bangs aside. “Can we keep our focus on matters of the county, please? That is what we’re all here for.”
The two of them glared quietly down the table at one another, a heavy sense of tension slowly thickening in the atmosphere of the room.
“Oh… he’s a snake,” Steve whispered to Octavia. “He knows exactly how to play this game…”
Octavia nodded gravely in agreement.
“Matters of the county,” Eli muttered, breaking the silence and tapping his fingers to the table. “Well… seems to me that this is a matter of the county, Mr. Monterey. There are times when a personal matter does intersect with a county matter. Looks to me like this is one of those times.”
“I fail to see how,” Judas said tonelessly. “All I did was sell a plot of land. Implying anything more than that is conjecture, and it implies that I’m conspiring to build a federal building in Wallace that everyone here voted against. Honestly, what possible reason would I ever have to do that?”
“I think that’s what we all wanna find out , Mr. Monterey,” Eli said rather forwardly, raising his head and staring out from beneath the brim of his hat, narrowing his dark, shiny eyes rather intensely at Judas. “And if you got nothing to hide… then it ain’t gonna hurt you none to tell the truth.”
Judas glared at him silently for a moment.
“Not unless whoever you sold it to is a friend of yours… and you droppin’ his name and getting him in trouble is a thing you’re trying to avoid,” Eli added, his expression falling stony.
Judas still said nothing.
“I think that’s enough, Mr. Riley,” Jefferson mumbled.
“No, let him cook!” Steve shouted, making a few other members of the ETC laugh and nod in agreement.
“Riley,” Octavia uttered, another light sparking on in her mind.
“Well, I don’t think it’s enough… not ‘till we get a simple answer,” Eli stated, pushing up from the table and slowly reaching his feet, sliding his hands into his pockets and sauntering around the table. “In fact, I don’t think anyone here is satisfied with being stonewalled from important information when we’re all trying to deliberate. That’s outright disrespectful to everybody here… and it makes a certain person in this room look real damn suspicious, if you ask me.”
Jefferson opened his mouth to interrupt—but Misty beat him to it this time.
“Whoever purchased that property is breaking the law, Mr. Monterey,” she said flatly, giving Judas a look. “And if you fail to provide us with that person’s name, then you’re being complicit with this person’s intent to commit a crime.”
“Ooo… you could be charged as an accessory,” Eli commented, making a wincing sort of face. “Mmm, and they’s some nasty repercussions for that …”
Judas continued to glare in silence—and Octavia found herself staring fixedly at Eli yet again, her stomach tightening, feeling positive that she knew him personally somehow. The longer he talked, and the more he spoke in that unique way he worded things, the more certain she became that he was someone she’d once heard a lot of in the past. In fact, she was sure she used to hear odd pearls of wisdom come out of his mouth at the most random of times, and for the strangest of reasons, always mixed in with colorful vulgarities and snide jokes.
“Fine,” Judas finally agreed. “You wanna know? I sold it to a guy named Ed Harrison. I can give you his information when we’re all done here. You happy now?”
“Oh… much happier, yes, thank you,” Eli replied with a nod, patting the table once and giving him an odd, sly smile. “You gotta forgive us for showing any level of suspicion, Mr. Monterey… but we gotta check off all our boxes and eliminate any possibility of some crooked business going on in here. But, hell… I ain’t gotta explain that to you. You a smart man. You know the game. I know you do.”
Judas’s eyes narrowed, surveying him with frustrated intrigue.
Eli responded with another simple smile, cocking his head and wagging a finger at him.
“You do right by us, and we’ll do right by you,” he disclosed. “That’s just how we do in Wallace County.”
Just as those words escaped Eli’s mouth—it suddenly struck her like lightning, and Octavia gazed across the room at him in total surprise, a sparkle of recognition in her eyes, her mouth drifting slightly agape.
“Holy shit,” she breathed in astonishment.