Authors: Suzanne Jenkins
Kelly was a classic beauty, tall and slender with red hair that had faded a little since she’d turned forty, and was moving toward strawberry. Thick, red hair hid the grey as it started to grow in with such frequency that it was impractical to pull out. It angered her; she was invisible because she wasn’t twenty-five anymore. It wasn’t fair. Seeing the way Steve was looking at her, she decided maybe she’d just been looking in the wrong age group of men. Thirty-year old guys might have felt more in step, but someone pushing sixty was definitely more appreciative.
“Do you live in the same district?” Steve asked, surprised that it had never occurred to him why Kelly was there in the first place. “I guess I just thought you’d come along for the ride.” She shook her head.
“If she hadn’t told me to prepare, going out of their way to come to get me, well, you get the picture.” He moved over on the bench and took her arm to pull her in.
“Tell me how it happened?” he asked, putting his arm around her shoulder. Telling him the story about Pete coming to Mike and Laura’s, warning them to prepare and then coming back with the news they had to leave was exhausting to relate.
Impulsively, Kelly reached her arms up around Steve’s neck and kissed him. It had been a long time for both of them. Kelly had to make an effort not to get into a frenzy of passion and he was trying to be respectful, too. But his real reason for controlling himself was because if they tried to crawl into the berth together to have sex, it would be so awkward because there wasn’t enough head room for him to get on top of her. The only way he could think of doing it was standing up right there in the kitchen. But then they’d run the risk of rocking the camper and waking up the Davis’s.
Fortunately, she didn’t seem to need an explanation when he stopped and held her. “I guess we better say goodnight,” she said. He bent over and kissed her again.
“Thank you for the best evening I’ve had in a long time,” he said. She slid out of the booth and waited while he got out and they embraced one more time.
“Good night,” he whispered, turning from her. It wasn’t the easiest climb to get back in the berth and he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable if he stood and gawked at her. She watched him get into his bunk bed and wave and then she climbed up and inch wormed into the space.
It was after one o’clock in the morning. She laid on her back and thought about what had happened that night and when she finally closed her eyes, fell right to sleep.
Chapter 6
Laura
Morning in Arizona is so different from Pennsylvania. Our house there faces south, the sunlight dapples through the golden and red maple leaves at an angle signaling winter is not far away. Here, the light is steely and penetrates everything in its path. I opened the shades above the sink which faces south too, but instead of a view to our pond, the fence that runs along the border between the United States and Mexico is all I see. The light depressed me, the first time it had ever had that affect. Grasping the edge of the counter, a wave of fear swept through me. Realizing I’d better conquer it before it paralyzed me, I did deep breathing, focusing on my family. As long as I stayed busy caring for them, the situation we were in wouldn’t get the best of me.
Making coffee, putting a pan of refrigerator sweet rolls in the oven to bake, I looked out over the living room. Mike was thumbing through a magazine. His posture didn’t lie; I could tell he was ready to pounce, inactivity an abomination. He’d be looking for something to occupy his time very soon, his day of rest over with after the grueling trip.
“I’m sending the girls out,” he said, getting up to leave. “Don’t look at me like that. They need to participate. Then I’m going to start organizing that acreage of junk your father has with the boy’s help. There are probably things in there we can use when we can’t get supplies anymore.” I sipped my coffee after he left the trailer. There wasn’t anything to reply, although I wondered if those retail places would even be open. I watched him walk over to the van, gesturing with his hands to our girls, handing them a list and cash, laughing with Kelly.
Kelly and the girls left to do the shopping in town. When the van pulled down the driveway, I had an additional moment of fear; I was letting my two precious daughters leave the safety of our compound. In twenty-four hours, the trailer and surrounding camp meant security to me. My dad, Randy and Mike, would never knowingly let anything bad happen to us. Now, the girls would be out of our realm of protection.
“If we are going have any normalcy we need to allow them to do this much,” Mike said, back at the trailer, watching me wring my hands. He’d given them each two hundred dollars with lists of items to look for; nylon webbing, rolls of sheet metal at the lumberyard, a box of two-inch screws. I knew he was planning on reinforcing the trailer, but against what I wasn’t sure, and was afraid to ask.
“Why’d you give them so much money?” I asked.
“They’re wise women,” he said softly. “If they see something we might need, I want them to be able to buy it.”
We’d been hoarding cash while Mike was doing doomsday prepping. Just enough of our paychecks went into the bank to cover bills, and a little went into a savings account. We were paranoid that someone at the bank might be keeping track of the cash we had on hand. When Pete came to warn us, we stepped the process up, closing our savings account, cashing out what we could in investments and paying bills with money orders. If we lived frugally, we figured we had enough cash for a year. We didn’t know what to do with all that paper. We had a small gun safe that was always in Mike’s sight. I had a wad of cash in my purse and my suitcase. The logistics of the money were anxiety producing.
“I’m getting nervous,” I said. Mike frowned.
“Go see your dad and tell him I’ll be right over,” he said. I grabbed my straw hat and went around back where he and the boys were already stacking scrap wood. Before long, I got into the work, the physical labor satisfying my urge to be productive, while calming the worst of my anxiety. Long before we expected the girls to return, I saw the van coming down the driveway fast, leaving a trail of dust. Mike was out in the field, dragging metal parts from an old truck to a pile he’d started.
“Let’s go see what they bought,” my dad said, looking over at Mike. “Your husband isn’t lookin’ too happy right now. I hope my junk pile keeps him occupied.”
“Me, too,” I said. I didn’t know if Mike would have enough to do to fill his time, making being busy his goal everyday. Always with something to do and places to go, Mike drove us nuts with his nervous energy.
“I can see he’s already getting antsy,” Steve replied. I shrugged my shoulders; deciding finding Mike meaningful activity was not my responsibility.
As we approached the van, I saw immediately that something was wrong. My daughters were hovering over a form in the back; Kelly leaned over the front seat, helping them in back. Steve noticed, too and we picked up our pace, running toward them.
I opened the door and Carin turned to us, crying. “We found him. There was a burn.”
“What do you mean
a burn
?” Steve asked.
“The same thing they’re doing at home, they’re doing here.”
“We saw it, block after block, down to the ground, just like the farm,” Kelly said.
“Who is it?” I asked. There was a smell in the van that I didn’t want to dwell on; it reminded me of homeless people, unwashed, ill.
“He’s a pilot. We saw the tail of the plane sticking out of a house. Then Elise saw him. He was lying in the street; like that body was back in St. Louis.”
I looked carefully at Carin; she’d seen the same awful thing I had. I nudged past my girls to get a closer look. “How’d you get him in the car?”
“He can walk with help,” Elise said. “His name is Chris. Chris Monroe.”
“Move out, ladies and I’ll help him up.” My dad was taking charge and I was glad to relinquish control to him for a change. This could not have a beneficial outcome. If they were burning here, what was the point of running to Arizona?
“Well there goes the excuse of burning against a virus from Hurricane Sandy,” Steve said, uncovering the man. I was shocked when he stood up; he was just a kid. We moved aside, trying to help my dad while Carin ran to the field to tell Mike and corral the boys somewhere out of sight. Our spacious new digs suddenly seemed too small.
We moved him toward the house just as Mike joined us.
“He needs medical care,” he said, looking the young man over after mouthing
I’m sorry
to me.
“We need to find an underground hospital,” Kelly said. “We wanted to take him to an ER but he refused.”
“If they’re burning here, the hospital is probably already gone, like it was back east,” I said, motioning for Mike to follow me back outside.
“What is it?” he asked, clearly concerned, thinking.
“We need to move on from here,” I said.
“I gathered that. Let’s go back inside so I can question him.” He turned and left me on the deck. I went to the door and called for Elise, but she was occupied with Chris. Carin came to the screen.
“Mom, I’m worried about this. Why’d we come here if the same thing is happening? We’re no safer here then we were back east.”
“Come out here please.” She stepped out onto the deck and fell against me. My children suddenly needing me again scared me. “Tell me what happened?”
“We were driving, trying to find a store that was open, and like Kelly said, we saw this burned out neighborhood. It was a trailer court. But Kelly wanted to see more, so she turned down a side street.” Hearing this made me angry. Why would she risk my kid’s safety? Quickly learning to prioritize, I decided not to say anything to her because they were okay now. But in the future, she wouldn’t be put in the position to make decisions about my girls.
“How’d he end up in the car?” I was unable to keep an angry tone out of my voice.
“We stopped and helped him, Mom. We couldn’t just leave him there in the street. He refused to go the hospital, saying that he’d get in a lot of trouble if his dad found out he crashed the plane and didn’t complete his
mission
. That was the word he used. Mission.”
“Did he know he might be killing innocent people?”
“No, I don’t think so. He was talking about the virus. ‘We have to eradicate the virus.’ He said this area is vulnerable because the farm workers lack of health care will be prime for spreading the disease.” Chilling words, my heart was pounding. Of course, a large commercial production farm would be a target! What were we thinking? My father was confident that whoever was responsible for the burns would spare food-producing areas. It appeared he was wrong.
“Let’s go inside,” I said, looking over my shoulder. All I wanted to do was to run from Tulip.
Chapter 7
It was after midnight and Victor Garrison knew from experience that once he woke up in this state of mind, sleep would not return for hours. It was usually his most productive work time, with no distractions from Katherine or emails or phones. Sliding out of bed, he glanced over at Katherine. The day had been hell for her, waiting for the return of Miranda’s body.
“I want to see her for myself,” she said. Although Victor worried about the consequences, he was relieved that in twenty-four hours, they’d made the decision to forgo a funeral and have a small memorial for friends and family.
Whoever
could have a throwdown for her in Washington, D.C., if they wanted to.
Not bothering to turn on lights, he crept down the staircase, listening for the other children, Lexie snoring. She didn’t go back to school, deciding to sit out the rest of the semester, the trauma of the home invasion still giving her nightmares. Their son, Danny arrived home from Michigan as soon as he heard the news, but was out with friends in spite of the sadness. Katherine had encouraged him to go.
“Why hang around, miserable? Go. We don’t need you to hold our hands.” Victor was proud of her and supported her, waving him off.
Lexie was a different story. Paralyzed by what had happened to her the evening of their Sunday dinner, she hadn’t left the house since. A double whammy, he was guilty for both Miranda’s murder and Lexie’s traumatization. Grateful that Katherine wasn’t blaming him, he knew it was just a matter of time before she woke up out of her trance and unloaded on him.
The liquor was in the dining room, so he went there to pour himself a scotch. The streetlights usually cast a dim yellow light over this room, but tonight it was so black he had to switch a light on, bending over to look out the window first. The light was out. And then when he flipped the switch, nothing happened. A strong hand pressed over his mouth and an arm got him in a chokehold, strong enough to pull him off his feet. The choking sensation was so painful; he wet himself a little bit, but was able to stop it before he soaked his pajama bottoms.
Dragged through the dining room, across the hall to his office he didn’t struggle or try to yell, afraid the noise would alert Katherine or Lexie. His tongue rammed against his teeth, the pain was awful and he started gagging, the assailant easing up. “Puke on me and you’re a dead man,” he growled. Once inside his office, a flashlight went on and his beautiful daughter, Miranda was standing in front of him, smoothing his cheeks with her hands.
“Daddy, Daddy,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. Let him go, Alex.” Strong hands that hurt released him, gently holding on to his arms, offering tender support as Victor tried not to collapse under the shock of discovering she was alive. It wasn’t easy. He stifled a sob as he grabbed her, holding her to his chest.
“Mandy, you’re alive,” he whispered, unbelieving. “What happened?”
“First, you need to promise me you are going to stay calm. Promise me, Daddy.”
“I promise,” Victor replied.
“You need to go upstairs and get Mommy now, quickly. We haven’t much time. Get her and Lexie. They need to dress and get down here right away. Danny is already out in the truck, waiting. Go now.” Victor paused long enough to notice the man who’d grabbed him from behind was no longer there. Miranda turned off the light and stood in the darkness.