Will to Survive (26 page)

“We are deadlocked,” the judge said. “Perhaps we need to have further discussion.”

“I haven't voted,” I said.

They all looked at me.

“I am a member of the committee now, right?”

There was hesitation before the judge spoke. “You are a member as of the vote we took at the start of the meeting to make you a member, but I don't know if it's fair to make you vote on this matter.”

“It isn't!” my mother exclaimed.

“I agree,” my father said. “It's not right to make you responsible for this decision.”

“It's not me. It's the members of the committee. Does it matter if I voted first or last?”

“It does when it breaks a tie,” Herb said.

“Maybe we could vote again,” the judge suggested.

“We could if somebody was going to change their vote,” Herb added. “Is anybody prepared to change their vote?” He looked around the table. Nobody answered.

“I have a right to vote and I want to,” I said.

As soon as I said that I felt a rush of regret. It was so much easier to just sit around the table but not have to take responsibility for what was decided.

“This is not the first time that Adam has had input into a decision,” Herb said. “From the decision to form this neighborhood, all the way to expanding and helping establish other communities, decisions have been made with Adam being a driving force. I'm completely comfortable with whatever decision he makes, pro or con.” He paused. “In fact, no offense to anybody around this table, but I think I trust his opinion more than that of anybody else sitting here, including me.” He paused again. “Is there anybody who is not prepared to accept the decision of this committee?”

People shook their heads.

“Okay,” the judge said. “Procedurally Adam is a member of the committee and has the right to vote. What's your vote, Adam?”

I took a deep breath before answering. “Both sides have merit. Both sides will lead to bad things happening,” I said. “There's no right answer. But I do know what would be the worst outcome. Brett has put a question forward that has divided us in two. No matter which way I vote half of the people are going to think I'm wrong, that the other half is wrong or, worse, immoral or uncaring.”

“Nobody will think that,” my mother said.

“Yes they will,” I said.

“He's right,” the judge said. “Perhaps we have to make one more agreement: Whatever is decided, whatever way the vote goes will become the opinion of
all
people in the room.”

“I don't know if we can change an opinion that easily,” Howie said.

“Maybe I worded that wrong. Whatever is voted for, whatever Adam votes for, will become the direction we will all pursue, we will all agree with and support.”

“I agree,” my mother said.

“I think we all need to agree,” Herb said. “We can't allow Brett to put a wedge between us. United we stand and divided we fall.”

There was a nodding of heads around the table.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you, all.” I let out a big sigh. This wasn't going to be easy, but I knew what had to be done. “I can only imagine how awful it would be to find more orphans at the gate and know that deciding against sending out the food would allow the parents to be killed.”

“So you're voting to give him the food,” the judge said.

I shook my head. “No. We can't give in to him. I vote against meeting Brett's demands.”

I could tell by the look in my father's eyes that he was shocked by my answer. He raised his hand. “I change my vote. I am opposed to meeting his demands.”

One by one all of the other people raised their hands until every person in the room agreed.

“Then we have consensus,” the judge said. “Now let's figure out how we're going to carry out that consensus.”

I hesitated for a second, since the idea wasn't fully formed in my mind, but then I said, “Well, first, I think we should let Brett think that we
are
going to meet his demands…”

Confused looks went around the table. Then I forged ahead with my idea.

 

25

Somehow I made it through the next couple of days, busying myself with routine work, helping repair walls, even pitching in with some gardening. Anything to pass the time. I also spent time with Lori and the two orphaned children. Just this morning I found her at the park, watching over the kids. I plunked myself down on the bench beside her and we sat in silence for a few minutes.

Lori squeezed my hand and I looked over at her.

“Just seeing if you were still here,” she said.

“I'm here, just thinking.” I gestured at the two children on the swings. “More important, how are they doing?”

“He's doing better, but she still basically hasn't spoken since she arrived,” Lori said.

“It's only been a couple of days. I'm sure she'll talk.”

“Maureen says that might take months, maybe even years,” Lori said.

“She's the expert,” I said. “I'm glad your family has been there to take them in.”

“My parents are already talking about adopting them, keeping them with us.”

“They need somebody, and I can't think of anybody better,” I said.

“My parents always wanted to have more than one child, so I guess it all works out in the end.” She paused. “Of course we can't be doing that with all the children who might come here.”

Obviously she'd heard.

“What else did your father tell you about the letter?” I asked.

“He told me about the threat. He told me that it was a lot about you … and that Brett mentioned me, that he threatened me, too.”

“He hates me and he wants to hurt me by hurting the things that matter to me. My family … you. It's because of me that you're a target for him.”

“It's not your fault. Besides, what are you going to do, break up with me to protect me?” she asked.

I wasn't going to admit I'd thought of that.

“I just can't believe the committee made that decision. I can't believe my father was in agreement,” she said.

“He wasn't at first,” I said. “He wanted to give Brett the food.”

“Isn't there a chance that if we just give him the food he'll leave us alone?”

“No, he wouldn't. There's only one thing that will cause him to ever leave us alone, and that's his death.”

We fell into silence. I knew what she wanted to know—which way did I vote? I also knew about the plans the committee had agreed to in the wake of the vote, but I was sworn to secrecy on those. I could have said anything or nothing to Lori right now. I wouldn't do that.

“I cast the deciding vote against giving in to his demands,” I said.

She turned to face me, incredulous. “How could you do that?”

I hadn't expected her to say that, even if that's what she was thinking.

“I'm sure you and Herb and the committee have your reasons but I hope it doesn't mean more parents are going to be killed, more children witnessing their parents being murdered.” Lori was on the verge of tears. “Look at those two kids.”

I was looking at them. I'd been looking at them. I knew what she was saying, how she was feeling, but I couldn't afford to feel it myself.

“Do you even know their names?” she asked.

I shook my head. I didn't—and I didn't
want
to know. I stood up. “I better get going.”

She grabbed my hand again. “Please don't … I'm sorry. I know it must have been a tough decision.”

I pulled away, she let go of my hand, and I walked off. I didn't look back. I couldn't explain it to her, but my being away from Lori would protect her from Brett. And that would protect me.

Lori was the only thing that could soften my soul. Here I was, stuck between two options; either I was becoming too much like Brett—and how would I live with myself?—or I wasn't enough like him and I simply wouldn't be able to stay alive. I wasn't sure which was worse.

*   *   *

It took me a while to get home. I'd stopped in briefly to talk to Todd. I just wanted him to joke around with me, help pretend none of this was happening. Instead that's all he would talk about. I told him how I was feeling, how I was honestly feeling, about the vote and the plan. He told me not to worry because he would be going out with me in the lead car. That wasn't something anybody else had talked about, but it did make me feel better.

He also told me that I had to be sure to keep him not only alive but perfect, because he had an obligation to the girls in the neighborhood to stay pretty to help fulfill their fantasy lives. I promised him. Delusions were sometimes better than reality.

I left his house and walked around the mostly empty streets of our neighborhood for another hour. I can't say I did a lot of thinking. It was more like I did a lot of not-thinking.

When I got home, Herb, Howie, and my mother looked up from our kitchen table. Herb gestured for me to come and join them. On the table was a detailed map showing the eastern part of our neighborhood, the bridge where the exchange was supposed to take place, and the area around it.

I listened as they talked more about the logistics of where people were being moved, how they would be positioned, and how they were going to attack. The plan was basic. We were going to bring out the “food” as Brett had requested. I'd be leading a big group, large enough to discourage Brett and his doodlebugs from attacking us, but it would be only one of three other groups. We would be surrounding the men Brett was sending to pick up the food. We'd try to kill or capture this group, get information about their base, their new compound. And then the real attack would happen, in which we were going to try to wipe them out altogether.

What Brett didn't know was that this time we weren't going to be alone. At least we hoped we weren't. It wasn't official yet—nothing had been formally agreed to—but we were going to call on the other twelve “colonies” to provide us with help.

Brett's letter and the appearance of the two orphans had overshadowed the fact that my father and Herb had come back that morning with an agreement in place among the different colonies, the communities that the island colony had befriended over the last several months. If it hadn't been for Brett, that agreement would have been cause for celebration throughout the neighborhood: We weren't alone anymore. It wasn't just us and a few even smaller places desperately banding together with us. We were now aligned with twelve other groups, including a large industrial complex that had been able to maintain some level of manufacturing, and a steel mill—not operating but perhaps capable of being put back into operation.

There were great distances between some of us—the farthest was almost a hundred miles away—but we were linked by the ability our neighborhood and the islanders had to fly between the colonies. Those flights would allow us to share resources, trade commodities, and offer mutual defense from outside aggression.

According to the agreement, if one colony was in danger, the others would provide fifty armed guards. If each colony complied, that would be six hundred extra personnel. That was a force that could have taken on the Division even at the height of their power. The doodlebugs certainly weren't that big now—Brett had asked for only enough food to feed a hundred men for a month. Even if he had double or even triple that number, we could still take them on and win.

“Is your father back yet?” my mother asked.

“Not that I know of.” He was out on a test flight of the Cessna, now that we'd made a critical new adjustment or two to the plane.

“There's nothing to be worried about,” she said.

Up to that point I hadn't been worried. “I know it's complicated to refit the Cessna like that,” I said.

“But a very good thing,” Herb said. “Adding a little sting is a good thing.”

A gun had been mounted on the Cessna and could be fired by the pilot or copilot. It would be reassuring to be not just a sitting duck—a flying duck—in the sky waiting for people to take potshots from the ground. My father, along with Mr. Nicholas, the engineer, was now out on a flight seeing how the gun mount would affect the plane's handling. It was worth the possible complications. At least we'd be able to fight back. Now if only we could arm the ultralight.

“It's going to make me feel better knowing my husband is up in the air when my son is leading the group out there to deliver the ransom,” my mother said, and turned to Herb. “I really think it should be somebody else leading the way, though.”

I spoke before Herb could. “There's no choice. Brett'll probably know if I'm not at the front. And we can't have Dad too close. Brett told us not to have a plane in the sky.”

“Adam's right on both counts,” Herb said. “I'm sure that as soon as the group leaves our walls he'll have eyes on us.”

My mind drifted back to the letter. It still sat on the top of the night table in my room. I'd claimed it as my own since it was addressed to me, but I hadn't even looked at it since it was read out loud to the committee. Maybe there was something in there that I'd missed. I'd go over the letter and ask Herb to be there when I did. Maybe it would become obvious if there was something more we needed to know.

“I still can't help but think this is nothing more than a trap,” my mother said.

“It might be, but we ourselves are laying our own trap,” Herb said.

It was a conversation we had had many times over the past couple of days. But before anyone could respond to Herb, there was a pounding on the front door of our house.

All four of us jumped to our feet and ran to the hallway. Instinctively we also all went for our weapons, but before we could react any further a trio of guards from the wall burst in.