The Voting Machine

Petitioning the Court

The next morning Luke drove me to out to the North Vegas clinic. Fatima joined us an hour later, carrying a stack of law books.

"I've been thinking about what you said, Temo," she said. "I've been researching how we could use the clinics to sign up voters, people who are homeless or drug addicts and probably wouldn't figure out the process without our help.

"I am reading court decisions on homeless people's voting rights. Election laws didn't really deal with this issue for the first two hundred years of American history. Then, in the 1980s, homelessness grew into the national problem we have today. There was a wave of court decisions starting in 1984. One ruling said you couldn't make living in a traditional dwelling a voting requirement. It said that placed an unconstitutional constraint on the voting rights of homeless people."

"That's what I been trying to say," Luke added. "They still got rights even if they don't got a place to live, right? I know about the Constitution. I read some of that in prison."

"I have an idea how we can do this, Temo," Fatima said. "We can use the shelters as a way to process their paperwork for voting. I can go to the courts and get the affidavits. We can bring a notary on-site to help take their statements confirming their identity. We can work with them to organize their proof of identification, a driver's license, a birth date, a social security number. Then we can take the notarized documents to the court to get them on the voting lists."

"That's kick ass," Luke said. "What can I do to help?"

"Once we set up the infrastructure, you can help us bring people to the clinics."

"I can do that. They all love the hot breakfasts. Once they realize there ain't no cops who gonna mess with 'em, they always willing to come."

We went over the action plan and called Annabelle to get her approval since she was the head of Sunflower. Fatima was very convincing and I knew Annabelle wouldn't be able to say no to anything this bright, young girl requested.

Luke was ecstatic. Fatima was finding a way to turn his idea into reality.

"One more thing," he asked her. "They say I can't vote because of my record as a violent felon. Anything I can do to change that?"

"We need to petition the court to restore your voting rights," Fatima said. "Give me your sentencing records. We can show you served your time and have a clean record since release."

As we walked out of the clinic to take our next steps, we ran into Zeke and the Founding Fathers, once again circling on the sidewalk with protest signs:

SALINGER VOTERS = DRUGGIES, ILLEGALS, TERRORISTS

DON'T LET ELECTION DAY LIVE IN INFAMY

STOP THE INVASION BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE

I pointed past the demonstrators to a black pickup truck on the far side of the strip mall. A man in his thirties with a long beard and mirrored sunglasses leaned back behind the wheel, grimly surveying the landscape. Three younger, clean-shaven men filled the passenger seats. They wore the same black caps and paramilitary outfits as their predecessors who had attacked Dollar Delight.

"It's them again," Fatima said in horror. "It's more men from that same group."

The Midnight Riders.

She started crying. "Oh, no."

"Don't you worry, sweetheart," Luke said. "I know those sons-a-bitches. I can handle them."

"You know them?" I said.

"The driver's name is Bill Taylor. That piece of shit was a meth dealer just like me. He got into all this white power crap while he was in prison."

Luke walked across the strip mall toward the Midnight Riders. He was calm and fearless, like a lone gunslinger in the Old West who knows he can take on a whole gang of outlaws if he has to. I saw a Colt revolver bulging from the back of his jeans, under his denim shirt.

Luke reached through the window of the driver's seat and grabbed Bill Taylor by the beard. The man tried to reach inside his jacket but Luke grabbed him by the wrist. In a rapid, fluid motion, Luke opened the car door, yanked Bill's arm out and then slammed the door on the elbow joint of Bill's outstretched arm. The man wailed in pain.

The men in the passenger seats scrambled to draw their weapons, but before they could react, Luke had already jammed the barrel of his Colt into Bill Taylor's mouth.

"I shoot this thing, it tears through Bill's skull and takes out another one of you sons-a-bitches in the backseat," Luke warned. "If I take this gun out of his mouth, Bill can tell you what a quick shot I am. Ask him what happened when his boys tried to rob me back in the day."

Bill made a choking sound. Luke pulled the barrel back, he gasped for air.

"Why you doing this, Luke? We just parked here. We ain't hurting nobody."

"I know you're schemin'. I know what you people did down at the Dollar Delight and now you're thinking about messing with the Sunflower Clinics. You leave them clinics alone, Billy. They's helping people. You and me, we got blood on our hands for what we did, helping all those junkies throw away their lives. You just live and let live. Otherwise, I'm going to have to hurt you and your people."

"You ain't the only one who got guns, Luke."

"We shouldn't be fighting anyways, Billy. Ain't nobody wants to go back to prison. Ain't nobody wants to see no bullets fly. Ain't nobody wants more dead white trash rotting out in the desert. Just stay away from the clinics, Billy. Stay away from the voting campaign."

Luke backed off and the Midnight Riders drove away.

"What's the matter with you?" I said to Luke inside his car. He drove away in a hurry. I guessed he figured it was better not to stick around in case someone had called the police. "You want to get killed?"

"I know how to handle those pussies," Luke said.

"You got a permit for that gun?"

"I don't need no permit. I told you I read the Constitution while I was in prison. I know my rights."

"You're an ex-felon. You want to go back to jail?"

"Do you want to see our plan succeed? The only way to deal with those wackos is to make 'em scared. You can't reason with 'em. They hate people like you, Temo. They hate girls like Fatima. They hate Annabelle and her bleeding-heart clinics. They'd eliminate all of you if they could get away with it."

I didn't have an answer for that.

"Billy's on parole anyways. He's not going to go to the cops. Those guys hate government as much as they hate you."

"What do they want?"

"I don't know. I'll bet they don't know either. They just mad, that's all."

"No more guns, Luke. I have my own problems with the law. I was arrested for a DUI back in LA. I don't need anything else on my record."

"This ain't going to bounce back on you."

"The hell it ain't. I am like Velcro, Luke. Trouble sticks to me. I mean it. You get rough with anyone again and I'll tell Annabelle to pull the plug on this whole thing."