trumpTown (working title) Chapter One, Part One

 That day things went from bad to badder.

The dewdrops hanging on the leaves of the big leaf maple glittered rainbow in the rising sun.

But I didn't feel like Noah; I felt like shit.

I guess I was looking west - probably why the rainbow - what with the sun rising and all of that.

If I had been looking east, I wouldn't have seen the rainbow, would I?

I was never to know the answer to that tactical irrelevancy.

That was where the gunfire and mortar fire and drones had been coming from.

Until sunset.

"Good morning sunrise".

So the rainbow was just a meaningless bonus to being alive - or to being awake, asleep or dead.

Whichever came first.

The Nehalem River ran loudly, foamingly and beautifully below me, below my perch in the maple.

The rain had reigned merciless, and Mamma Nehalem was trying to disgorge as much of it seaward as possible; some, brown and mocha-foam in color stained the sword fern covered banks as that disgorgement was effected.

"Damn; those aren't dewdrops (I couldn't help but remember The Dew Drop In tavern and chuckle) they are raindrops, not dewdrops; and that's why I am cold and soaked; night duty is a bitch".

I was only yards away from one of America's ubiquitous trumpTowns.

Its center was on the site occupied in the olden days by Oney's Bar and grill.

It has always been said that Oney would have been a Trump voter.

A mortar landed in the crotch of the joint of the major limbs of the maple immediately next to me.

It produced copious kindling and a little bit of cordwood, and a slightly better view for me, what with that obstructive tree gone from my field of view to the east.

Wherefrom came the inbounds.

Now that the sun had come back to trumpLand.

"They must have a drone right here; why can't I hear it?"

A bullet whinged past my ear.

I wiped away the blood and shrieked "fight, fight, fight".

"That was stupid" I said to the maple tree.

Another whinged; it took off my ear.

I didn't care.

Blood had become a marker, like a bear rubbing a tree.

I was glad to be able to mark for what I believed to be true and important.

"The christians will never prevail" I muttered.

The recently mortared tree cracked to pieces and became a pile of moss and twined wood cords amongst the ferns.

I could now see where to shoot, if I needed to.

Shoot.

Which I dearly hoped I would need to do soon.

I needed breakfast.

And shooting cleared the way for long enough for breakfast.

They for sure were coming at me - christians - and they needed killing.

So I could eat.

"Fair bargain" I thought I heard someone say.

"In Hoc Signo Vinces" I thought I heard in response.