Authors: Rob Stennett
It took Jeff a minute or two to get used to driving under the new traffic rules. If there were two lanes on a street, the
drivers acted as if there were four. Stoplights were only recommendations. Sidewalks were used as the carpool lane. Horns
were used wildly and freely. They were held down to give one long beep — horns of the smaller cars cracking as if the beep
was coming from insecure, pimply middle school students, horns of the large SUVs were deep and guttural as if the beep were
coming from a mustached truck driver in flannel. Other horns were rapidly fired in long and short bursts as the drivers pounded
their fists against them to let everyone know they were on the road and in a hurry.
As Jeff made his way home he passed accident after accident. No one in Goodland really knew how to drive in a third-world,
Bangkok style. And even though most of the accidents weren’t serious, they still made getting home feel all the more dangerous
and jarring.
Jeff drove past the accidents, trying to stay focused on the mission at hand, but he couldn’t help but notice as some of the
other motorists caught his eye. They glared at him. And for a moment Jeff felt responsible for all of this. What if it was
all Will’s fault? Of course it wasn’t, but what if he were blamed for everything? Jeff knew people could sue for anything
these days — we live in a society that teaches us to shirk the blame whenever we can. If some woman spills coffee on herself,
she doesn’t take the blame, she turns around and sues whoever made the coffee for making it too hot. A man whose waistline
expands after eating too many Oreos will sue Nabisco for making them too high in fat content. Jeff knew he lived in a day
and age where people could sue for whatever reason, no matter how frivolous and nonsensical the lawsuit seemed.
And sure, Will couldn’t be blamed for
causing
the tornado — that would be impressive for any lawyer to prove in court. But he probably could be blamed for causing the
paranoia. Tornados happened all the time in Kansas — but tornados that marked the beginning of the end, those were special.
And it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to imagine a group lawsuit. Jeff could imagine some lawyer planting the idea that all
of these wrecks were happening because of Will’s prediction. He could picture his son in a courtroom with his hands folded
as some lawyer in a high-priced suit said, “You see ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it was the paranoia started
by the Henderson family
that caused all of these accidents. No one would have been hurrying home if they didn’t think the end was near. And, therefore,
it was Will Henderson’s irresponsible prediction that caused all of this damage and heartbreak. Not some simple afternoon
storm.” All of the jury would nod in agreement and find Jeff guilty because their friends’ cars were also damaged in these
accidents. And even if they didn’t find Jeff guilty, he’d still have to pay all of the legal fees to defend himself, and it
would break him. His car and house would be repossessed and they’d have to move in with Amy’s parents.
Jeff shook his head.
He wasn’t going to face massive group civil suits. Even if he was, he couldn’t let himself think about that right now. Will.
Amy. Emily. That’s what was important.
To make matters worse, Jeff began to notice that along with the horrendous driving, everyone was on their phones. They were
talking and dialing and redialing and holding their phones in the air to see if they were getting any service. A lot of the
phone lines were overloaded, so people couldn’t get through, which only made them fidget with their phones more. And Jeff
was just as guilty. He was trying to get through to Amy. He dialed and listened and waited, only to hear an automated voice
coldly say, “All circuits are busy right now. Please try again.” He was going crazy in the car. He was still miles from home,
he had to get all the way out to the country, and at this rate, he’d never get there.
He flicked on the radio to get his mind off things. It didn’t help. KBOY Country wasn’t playing any of the songs he loved;
they were giving live reports of the school. Most of the news was good. No one had been killed by the tornado; most had been
evacuated before the funnel cloud hit. So far there were about fourteen injuries — only three of those seemed serious and
only one of them was critical. “On Tuesday a fifth grade student by the name of Will Henderson told the other students that
the school would be destroyed. There was confusion about when exactly the destruction would happen — ”
Jeff’s phone started to ring. He turned the radio down. He’d heard all the rest before. “Amy!”
“Jeff!”
Jeff smiled from ear to ear. Tears rolled off his face. It felt good to hear her voice, and even better to know that she was
okay. But just to be sure, he asked. She said she was fine, good even if you considered the circumstances. “What about Will?”
he asked.
“He’s holding up, Jeff. He’s a lot stronger than I am.”
“But the school, the destruction, I mean that’s got to be hard for him.”
“He knew better than anybody that this was going to happen.”
“Yeah, but it’s one thing to know and another thing to watch it.”
“Honey, he’s going to be all right. He
is
all right. He’s sad it happened, but he knew it had to happen.”
“Well, just tell him to hang in there. I’ll be home soon.”
As he pulled into the driveway Amy and Will ran outside. Jeff jumped out of his car and grabbed his wife. It felt almost unreal
to be holding her, to smell her apricot shampoo, to look into her smiling blue eyes and know that she seemed all right. That
she still seemed like the same person he’d been falling in love with over the last eighteen years.
And then he knelt down and hugged his son. “Are you all right?” he asked. When Jeff pulled back, he was startled at how rock-solid
his son seemed. Jeff thought maybe Will should be holding him and asking if he was all right.
Will didn’t answer. So Jeff asked again, “Come on, Will, I asked you a question? How are you buddy?” Will looked as if he
were really considering this question. He seemed to be deeply concerned with what it meant to be okay. But when Will finally
opened his mouth, all he said was, “Yeah Dad, I’m fine.”
A little later, Jeff, Amy, and Will were in the sitting room. They did not normally use this room. The dining room was where
they ate dinner, the living room was where the TV was, and there was nothing in the sitting room except for stuffy, rigid
furniture.
“Why do we even need this room?” Jeff once asked Amy.
“It’s what dignified people have,” Amy said.
So just the fact that they were sitting in this room made the hours after the tornado unusual for the Hendersons. Jeff sat
his family in there to debrief what had happened, but before they could get too far into the situation, Emily walked through
the door.
Amy ran up to her and they hugged and talked about what they’d seen. They said things like, “Can you believe the tornado hit
just like that? In the middle of the day? That was crazy. I’ve never
ever
seen anything like that.” Jeff knew what they had seen was fascinating. But there wasn’t time to focus too much on that.
Not right now. They needed to know what they were going to say. The town was in chaos and soon friends and neighbors and the
media were going to want answers from the Hendersons. They were going to want them to speak about what had happened. And Jeff
knew they had to be careful about how they went about that.
But before Jeff could even bring that up, there was a knock at the door. Their whole conversation screeched to a stop. The
four members of the family just sat on the rigid furniture and stared at their front door.
“Who do you think it is?” Amy asked.
“I don’t know, but let me handle this. I’ll do all the talking,” Jeff instructed his family. Jeff flung the door open and
there were cameras, lights, and a lady with a microphone. They were all aimed at Jeff to record anything he said. Whatever
he did was about to be broadcast into every home in Goodland.
“Mr. Henderson, Nancy Palmer, News Channel 4. Can we get your reaction to the Jefferson Elementary Disaster?” the reporter
asked.
“Jefferson Elementary Disaster?” Jeff asked.
“It’s what the tornado at the school is being called.”
“Oh,” Jeff said. But before he could say much more, another camera crew and reporter ran through his lawn and up to his front
door.
“Mr. Henderson, I’m Laurie Winters and we want to offer Will and his family a chance to be a Channel 9 exclusive,” the second
reporter said.
“I was here first, Laurie,” Nancy Palmer said.
“Did she offer you an exclusive?” Laurie Winters asked Jeff.
“What’s an exclusive?” Will asked. He’d popped his head through the door and come outside. This was the last thing Jeff wanted.
All the cameras and lights aimed at Will. “Isn’t an exclusive when a guy and a girl date each other and no one else?” Will
asked.
“Yes, that’s one definition,” Laurie Winters said, crouching to eye level with Will. “But another definition is your chance
to tell your story however you and your dad want you to. You are a very special boy and very special to this town, and they
really want to hear from you.”
“Okay, that’s it. Will, get inside,” Jeff said.
“Mr. Henderson, Channel 4 doesn’t just want Will. We’d love to interview any members of your family,” Nancy Palmer said.
“I’d be happy for you to interview me,” Emily said. She’d come outside while Jeff was trying to corral Will back inside. “It
would be great for me to get some good PR right before homecoming. That way Goodland could see the caring, family side of
Emily Henderson.”
At that, all the cameras and lights flicked on Emily. Microphones were thrust above her head. And Nancy Palmer asked, “Emily,
have you ever seen Will predicting anything before all of this?”
Jeff thrust his hand in front of the camera. “Enough. Emily, Will, inside now. Everyone else, get off my property. The Henderson
family has no comment about the disaster at the school right now.”
Jeff had to physically grab his son and daughter and pull them inside. It had been years since he’d had to pull them away
from danger. You don’t pull a seventeen-year-old away from something the way that you pull a three-year-old away from sticking
her hand on a hot burner. But what was outside was a hot burner. It was an Uncle Dale. It was something that seemed so nice
and friendly. It took someone of Jeff’s years to see how dangerous it was. Emily and Will could have no way of knowing how
much those pretty ladies were a threat to their family.
But they were a threat.
They would plaster their faces all over the TV.
Everyone in town was upset, but if they let the news pass on, soon enough there would be another story to talk about. But
if they fed the news beast, then all of the rapture fanatics or anti-rapture fanatics would be at their door wanting answers.
The Henderson family would be laser-locked in their sights. They wouldn’t be safe at home, at the store, at school — anywhere.
Jeff realized all of this in a flash, but maybe this flash was good and helpful. Maybe it was primal. His survival instincts
had kicked in and he suddenly knew what he had to do to keep his family safe. It didn’t matter if they understood or felt
good about it. Someday they would. And in the meantime they would not be harmed. That’s what was important.
“Dad, what are you doing? I just want to say a few things. This is my chance to be on TV,” Emily said.
“Okay, listen to me, Emily and everyone else. No one says a word to the media. Not to the reporter or newspapers or anyone
else. We don’t want them talking about us and showing our faces on TV.”
“They’re going to talk about us anyway. We’re like the biggest story in town.”
“Let them talk. We’ll keep our mouths shut.”
“But why, Dad?”
“Because I am the head of this household! I provide for this family, I lead this family, and this is my decision,” Jeff snarled.
He didn’t mean to come off so cold and mean. But he could leave nothing to chance. His family could not put themselves in
the line of fire. He didn’t want to go into all of the reasons why because that would just freak them out. That wouldn’t help
anything right now. And when his family could see how serious he was by the look on his face and the sound of his voice, they
didn’t say another word about the topic.
Dinner was cold and awkward. There wasn’t a lot of conversation. There was the clanking of forks against ceramic plates as
they ate their pasta with red Ragu sauce, and that was about it. Jeff knew everyone was thinking about the news trucks that
were all parked in front of their house. It was hard not to notice the bright white glare from the camera lights that pierced
their way through the blinds. Jeff asked Mike if there was any way the news crews could be removed, but Mike said they were
legally off the property so there was nothing he could do.
The family wanted to watch the news, but he knew that would just be a reminder of how difficult the media silence was, so
he refused to let them turn it on.
As dinner came to an end, they heard three knocks at the front door. Jeff was sure one of the news people had snuck back onto
the property and he was ready to tear their head off as he threw his napkin onto his plate and walked towards the front door.
But it wasn’t a newsperson at all. It was Mike standing there.
“Can we come in?” he asked.
“
We?
”
“We need to talk,” Mike said and stepped back. Standing behind Mike were people Jeff had never met. But Jeff knew who they
were: the mayor and his entourage, the chief of police, and Reverend Whitlock, minister at The Church of Hope. Why had Mike
brought these people into his house? He was trying to calm his family down; this was the last thing he needed.
“Is Will here? We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“We need to ask him some questions about what he thinks is going to happen to our town next,” one of the mayor’s men said.
He was wearing a charcoal suit and seemed to be the spokesman for the mayor.