A New Day in America (12 page)

“Hi, princess,” says Leila. “You want to come up with the grown-ups?”

Leila lifts the girl and sets her on her lap. She wraps her arms around Naomi’s waist, and they watch the monotonous road ahead like a movie they’ve seen way too many times.

“What’s this?” says Leila. She pulls down the back of Naomi’s shirt. “Oh my.”

The ride grows quiet. The truck tumbles along the road, but the bumps feel painful now, as Nos thinks of Naomi’s bumps.

“How long?” asks Leila.

“Don’t know.”

Leila looks at Nay as though truly horrified. “How is she…”

“I have treatment. Some. But not enough.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as
treatment,”
she says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Could be worse. Was worse for my boys, my wife.”

“And my mother. My aunt. My grandma,” Leila says.

“So why are you heading West?” asks Nos, meaning it this time.

Leila takes in a deep, reluctant breath. “Just a boy,” she says.

“Your man?”

“Just a boy.”

Nos takes a few wrong turns before he finds his way to the Fort Dan signs off the highway. Along the way, he drives into a makeshift market of sorts. Impromptu stands sell dried goods. Seems like there are more beggars than customers filling the streets. An odd place for a market. Nos wonders if the proximity to the base has something to do with it.

Beggars crowd his progress, all but mobbing the van. Women hold up children and babies. Men in rags hold their hands out. Naomi watches as though she’s recording it all.
America the Third World
.

Fort Dan is a restored base from the times of civil war. High walls surround the fort and seem to have been recently reinforced. They are half a mile out and Nos can feel the suspicious eyes of the sentries. Nos gets within half a football field and they show themselves.

The soldiers come on strong, M4 rifles at the ready. Leila flashes him a look.

“Doing their due diligence,” he says, hoping he’s right. As Nos learned in New York, wearing a uniform does not make one an officer. He’s got plenty worth taking. Not just Naomi’s medicine either. Leila could be another sort of plunder.

A soldier stands in front of the van. One to the left, one to the right, and one circles to the rear.

“Get out of the van!” barks the solder dead ahead.

Nos raises his hands and opens the door. He closes it behind him before the dogs can rush out. They make a violent ruckus, claws pressed against the windows.

“Petty Officer First Class Nos Greene,” he says in a calm, even voice. Leila also gingerly gets out of the passenger side and closes the door, pushing the dogs inside and releasing a riot of barking.

“Weapons! On the ground!”

Nos slowly takes out his Sig, his pigsticker, the Beretta he’d snatched from the skinheads, and lays each on the road.

“Got dogs in here,” says the soldier from behind the van.

“And a girl.”

“The dogs are tame,” says Leila.

“The girl’s my daughter,” says Nos.

“Faces in the dirt, both of you.”

Nos and Leila oblige. Nos feels a gun barrel press into his skull while hands pat him down.

“I got a rifle in the back,” says Nos.

“I see it,” says a soldier.

“Grab it,” says the man in charge.

“I aint opening those doors, Sarge. Not unless you want me to kill those dogs.”

“No!” says Leila.

“Please,” Nos says. “My daughter is in that van. We come in peace. I’m here to see Sergeant Tommy Greene. He’s my brother.”

Nos strains to see the man over him, but all he can make out is a pair of boots.

The soldier lets out a sigh.

“That shitbag?”

They tell Nos and Leila to wait there and drive the van inside, loaded with Nos’ guns and the Suzuki bike that Nos is growing ever more fond of. They leave them alone and unarmed, with Naomi and the three pit bulls.

“Thought you military boys had each other’s backs,” says Leila.

“Just due diligence,” says Nos, again hoping he’s right.

Nos is more worried that they’ll go through his rucksack and find Naomi’s medication. Might be that they know what it is and help themselves.

“
Suspicious
, if you ask me.”

“Suspicion is just good practicality. Anyone who isn’t suspicious these days is either a liar or a moron.”

They wait maybe an hour under the Midwestern sun. While the village market isn’t too far from the base, he doesn’t see a single beggar or merchant. Could be the base has sent a message, and the downtrodden folks know better.

Naomi is swinging a stick at some wavy blades of grass when the gates open. Nos sees a familiar face walk out in standard greens, flanked by the four armed guards from earlier.

“Lieutenant Sorkin, is it?” says Nos, stepping forward to shake the man’s hand.

“Nostradamus.” They embrace and then pull back, clutching each other’s forearms. Nos knows Sorkin from Rangers school. Always a real
oo-rah
type, with his head shaved all the way up and his spit shine boots. Not looking bad, considering. Just some gray up top and a receding hairline. “Shoulda known the end of the world couldn’t kill a snake-eater like you.”

“I don’t eat snakes,” says Nos. Some guys call Special Forces boys like Nos ‘snake-eaters’. Not Nos’ favorite tag, to be honest. “Meat’s too tough.”

“Leila, this is Lieutenant Sorkin, we went to school together.”

Sorkin takes her hand and takes in a good long look at her eyes.

“Some guys find luck even when there’s little to be had.”

If only
. “You’ve cleaned up pretty nice yourself,” says Nos, thinking of the unwashed masses just a mile down the road.

“Routine,” Sorkin shrugs. “Keeps me sane. And who’s the little one?”

“Naomi. My daughter.”

Naomi steps beside Nos, her head tilted down toward the stick in her hands. Sorkin touches her shoulder.

“Come on inside,” says Sorkin, leading the way.

“He doesn’t seem too suspicious,” mutters Leila as they follow.

“Nope.”

“So which is he? A liar or a moron?”

“Never said those two were exclusive.”

The base is the closest approximation to civilization Nos has seen since Black Sun. While outside Dan’s fences, the air stinks of fear and feces, within there is a whiff of boredom. Aside from Sorkin, discipline has gone to shit. Long hair and beards are commonplace. Boys sit out in jackets, playing cards.

When Nos had asked Sorkin about Tommy, he got cagey. Sorkin told him to wait for the general, leaving Nos to wander the base and wonder about his brother. If he had died, wouldn’t they just say so? Likely he pissed somebody off and got himself locked up. Tommy had a talent for starting trouble. Nos couldn’t count the number of times he had to scrap on account of his brother’s mouth.

Leila and the dogs draw hollers from the men, and Naomi draws smiles from the women. The church is the most popular spot on base, not counting the port-o-potties. They amble toward a big crowd spilling out from the chapel doors. A tremor of excitement seems to run through the line of people.

“What do you suppose is going on?” Leila asks.

“Seems in trying times, folks turn to faith.”

A woman in front overhears. “There’s been another disappearance from the chapel.”

“Everyone’s lined up here like there’s a show inside,” says Leila.

“
This is God’s work
,” the woman whispers, as though telling a secret. “You must be new here.”

“We are,” says Nos.

“Officer Brock vanished last night. Just like the other two earlier this week. Good Christian men, all three of them. Spent their days and nights praying. Praying about what’s happened to the world and for God to show His Mercy. And now he has,” she utters, biting her lip.

“He disappeared?” repeats Nos, wondering if he hears her right.
If there is a God, it’d be stretch to call him merciful
.

The woman goes inside.

“She said two other disappeared,” says Nos. “Do you think—Tommy?”

“I don’t know what to think. Strange business. She said they were all good religious types—that sound like your brother?”

“Not in the least. Tommy’s a simple man. Likes to talk. Hates work. Likes cards, girls, and booze. He goes near a church, you smell the sulfur.”

“Still. The least likely sometimes catch Christianity,” she says like it’s the flu.

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if Tommy could turn water to wine.”

They step inside and there are three piles of clothes sitting on different pews, each pile roped off like museum pieces. Naomi pulls ahead to look. Folks kneel and kiss their fingertips and touch the piles of clothes, underwear and all. Nos and Leila back away and watch, not sure how to react. The worshipers hum with a look of purpose in their eyes.
They believe
, thinks Nos. The last flock he’d seen with such purpose had saved Leila’s life.

“Have you ever seen a miracle before?” says a voice from behind.

Nos turns and sees the Chaplin smiling.

“To be honest, I only see three piles of clothes,” says Nos.

“You see the epilogue, but not the story. The evidence, but not the crime.”

“What do you see that I don’t?” asks Nos.

“The
Carrying Off
. ‘We who are alive and remain will be caught up in the clouds to meet The Lord,’” beams the Chaplin. “Scripture does not say what would happen to the clothes of such an individual. But what use will they have of clothes where they are going?”

“Chaplin, I’m here looking for my brother,” says Nos. “Was Tommy Greene one of the men who disappeared?”

“Huh,” chuckles the Chaplin. “
That
would be a miracle.”

***

“Sergeant Greene,” says General Westbrook, stepping from behind his desk. Clean, purposeful, with a hint of I-don’t-have-time-for-this-shit. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Has Tommy been talking?”

Westbrook turns back behind his desk. “Heard about Afghanistan. Your purple heart and all that chest candy they gave you.”

“Wish it was candy. Maybe my daughter’d have more to eat.” Nos had left Naomi outside with Leila, and he already feels naked without her. It’s been over a year since she hasn’t been right at his side.

“I can offer you food and a place to lay up,” says Westbrook. “What I don’t have is your brother.”

“Is he alive?”

“Can’t say for sure. He went missing three days ago. Commandeered a base vehicle with a buddy of his and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

Nos nods.
At least he’s not dead for sure
.

“Where did he go?”

“Even those circumstances are in question. The pretense of Tommy’s trip off base was to check radiation levels in Decatur County. And go deer hunting.”

Nos can’t help but grin. “I hope whoever believed that story has been adequately disciplined.”

Westbrook gives a slight nod. “It turns out he was likely visiting a favorite illicit establishment when he went missing.”

Trust Tommy Greene to find a whorehouse at the End of the World
.

“This doesn’t seem to come as a surprise,” suggests Westbrook.

“I don’t surprise easily these days, General. I lost my wife and two boys. Found my father dangling from his own rafters by a piano chord. I can only hope that Tommy met his end doing what he loves.”

He didn’t realize until just then how much he was looking forward to seeing his brother again. One last lurch toward normalcy.
You can’t ever be too ambitious
.

***

The General gives them Tommy’s room to stay in, of all places. The base is beyond capacity, so the move makes sense. One body lost, so another takes his place. Nos understands that General Westbrook has already lost something like two-thirds of his men on base to the disease. Once you’ve buried that many, it must be pretty routine when another turns to dust. Still, Westbrook handled his condolences pretty well. Put on a face like he cares. Gave a quick speech. Followed the rules of engagement for telling some sorry sap their loved one is dead—standard operating procedure for a commanding officer.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” says Leila, sitting on Tommy’s cot.

“Comes with the territory,” says Nos.

Other than a photo of his parents, there isn’t much of Tommy in that room. He was never sentimental. Nothing on the walls. But Nos can feel Tommy when he sees a tall stack of books on his nightstand. All kinds of titles: classics, airport thrillers, nonfiction, even a military book here and there. Tommy would drink all night and read all day. It was the only activity he could tolerate when he was hung-over.

Naomi plops her head on her father’s thigh. She leans into him like she wants him to sit down. Nos obliges. She rests her head in his lap and sprawls across the cot. There’s something generous about it—like she can sense the change in her father.

It’s been a long day. She soon falls asleep.

The door bangs. The dogs bark. Nos springs alert. He hadn’t realized he’d passed out. Naomi and Leila groggily come to.

“Get the dogs,” he tells Leila.

She silences them with a short command.

Lieutenant Sorkin is at the door.

“Come. The general wants to see you,” he says and turns on a heel.

Nos turns and nods to his new family, half blood and half makeshift. For some reason, he remembers the image of them as he marches after Sorkin. Wide eyes, mouths open like they want one last word. He has a feeling of irrational significance, like how he remembers the last time he saw Yvette and the boys.

Nos stretches his neck until it
cricks
.
No time to go soft, Nostradamus. Time to be practical
.

Sorkin leads Nos across a busy, agitated quad to a two-story white-walled command center.

“We’ve got a closed circuit TV network running on the generator power,” he says as they march into a large room.