The Precedence Men

Chapter 1 The Fire Still Burns

"I am..."  Haden shouted.  "...the most important man in the country!"  You might think he was addressing a room full of people he considered less important than himself but he was clearly standing under a starlit sky, the light of an open fire casting shadows on more than just his person. Harsh and haughty as it sounded, and a little crazy too, in the midst of a homeless camp, there was good reason Hayden said it.  He was not an arrogant man and he was by no means crazy, but he'd been through so much these past three months and now hiding in this obscure place trying to figure out his next move; it was all so much to take that giving voice to the cause of his nightmare existence was inevitable, especially in his present condition.

"In the world!"  He corrected with a wavering air of distinction interrupted by a slight stagger. 

 His salt and pepper hair was tossed and greasy and longer than he'd ever let it get before.  He smelled like – among other things – the smoke of the open fire he often sat (and slept) near.  He had to be quick to win a spot or he'd spend the night shivering.  Tonight he scored a nice close spot. This filled him with unwarranted pride and prompted his unusual outburst – that, and half a pint of cheap alcohol he'd found in the back lot of the nearby grocery store.  The things one spots while taking a leak.  He wished it was gin at the time but now it didn't matter.

Though his physique didn't look like much under what was now a baggy light-grey suit, his body was solid again, even at fifty years of age.  For years it had been covered with a bit more than a thin layer of fat but over these months on the run he has become much leaner.  The all important ring, that one thing that set Hayden on the run and made him so important to the world (though they had no clue), actually fit him now and he kept it on his finger instead of in his pocket.  The treasure it contained felt safer there for some reason, hidden in plain sight and all.  Now his body resembled more the officer he was in the Army, than the executive level lawyer he had become.  Hayden wasn't what you would call a devout man, but now that he was on the run he often thanked God for his earlier training and the keener edge it put on his mind and ability; it saved him more than once in the Pacific during the Second World War and more recently while on the run for his life.

In a way his life in general seemed to be preparing Hayden for this climactic turn of events.  Born the year before the Great Depression started, and growing up in basic survival mode, joining the army at age seventeen seemed the next logical step, though he had no idea World War II would end so abruptly with the dropping of the nuclear bombs on Japan.  His service in the army won him a free education and with his education eventually came his Army Officer Commission in 1950, right around the start of the Korean War.  After the Korean War, which Hayden spent stateside with the Adjutant General Corp, he left the military's legal service and secured a low-level position in a Washington DC law firm.  He eventually worked his way into a senior executive partnership in 1977.  When he accepted the position, Hayden felt destined for importance but he never would have guessed that it would come just two years later in such a completely different way than he had ever expected.  Mind you it was sheer luck when he stumbled on the information, but this truth he now guarded, this truth that threatened his life was what made him the most important person in the world.  Yet, who could he tell but the wind?  And he did; he blurted it out in a moment of weakness and there was no way he could take it back.  He could only hope no one would take him serious.

For the most part the words of his outburst, though loud, were hidden behind the sluggishness that comes after a bit of drinking when the effects of the alcohol begin to set in and loosen a tongue.  But there were other reasons the words didn't ring as true as intended.  The surrounding homeless camp belied the truth of the statement not only with its raw atmosphere, but with its reason for being.  And the heart that spoke the statement was tired of the weight it bore, tired of the run, tired of being alone and on edge all of the time.  It caused an unintentional crackle below the surface of the words like an old vinyl record, dusty and worn.  These words had a grooved sort of repetition, both tired in the saying, and tired of the driving truth that caused it to be said.