“Henry, what you up to,” momma had said. “You fixin to go to that rally?”

Henry had the truck packed with gear. He was wearing camo and a bullet proof vest.

Julia watched her older brother as she ate her cereal.

“It’s tahm for patriots to rise up,” he said. “We are needed. He has called us. Dad would have wanted this.”

Momma slapped him across the face. “You’re a disgrace to your father’s name, with all this bullshit you’re involved in. Don’t bring him into it!”

Henry rubbed his face. “You’ll see, momma. Our country was stolen!”

“You’re sick,” the widow answered. “Listening to all that crap on the internet. They just want your money. They’re lying to you. Can’t you see that?”

Henry turned and went toward the door.

“I love you, son,” momma said. “But I can’t help you anymore. If you go there, don’t come home.”

Henry paused, the screen door open, a blast of wind chilling the kitchen, as if thinking. Then he went through it and shut the door behind him.

Julia put her spoon down. “He comin back, momma?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “He’s lost his mind, just like this whole fool country.”