by Siara Brandt
“Hell, Jes, I don’t want to believe this, either. In its way, ignorance really is bliss. I wish I could go back and undo what I know. But I can’t. I wish I could forget all of this and live a normal life again where the worst decision I have to face in my day is what I’m going to have for dinner or what movie I want to watch to unwind at the end of a long day, but I can’t because the bastards won’t let me.”
“But I know you, Bron. I know you gotta have some kind of plan.”
“My plan?” Bron echoed. “First and foremost, we pray. We get prepared as best we can, and then we pray again. We do what we can to stay alive when things go downhill because it’ll be fast. Right now we’re being led by unprincipled, amoral madmen. They’ve convinced us not to listen to reason but to insanity. They’ve got the whole world believing that the earth is a spinning ball hurdling through space at impossible speeds. You already know there’s a reason for that. No universe, no big bang theory. No big bang theory, no evolution theory. No evolution theory- well, you know the rest. Technology and pseudo-science have become our gods. How do you think that’s going to turn out? The world’s about to go up in flames. A lot of people are waking up and seeing the truth behind the lies and hopefully they’ll find a way to survive. But the rest of them? They’re headed for a cliff, and they’re not going to give up the technology that’s going to drive them right over the edge. They won’t even see it coming. All we can do is to try to not end up like these birds, or whatever else is in store for us when they introduce their miracle vaccine. The writing’s already on the wall and the message is about as clear as it can be. My plan is to try to do our best to survive, hopefully together, and hope there’s a reason we were meant to stay alive. This is about to get real, Jes, and it’s going to make your worst nightmare look like a walk in the park.” He looked around. “I mean what a walk in the park used to be.”
The sound of mowers brought his head around with a jerk.
“We’re out of time. We need to get out of here.”
Chapter 2
Kel glanced at her from beneath dark frowning brows. It wasn’t so much the look on his face as it was his silence that made her take an emotional step backwards. Caution made her choke back the words she had been about to say.
Not Kelan.
“You’re still making a big deal over that?” he asked in a voice that was suddenly a little lower and a lot more condescending. “It was just some dead birds in a park, something that happens all the time. It’s the way nature works, the way it has always worked. There are natural die-offs all the time. You know that.” He narrowed his gaze at her, still frowning, to see what effect his words had on her.
Lise didn’t reply. Instead she turned back to the window and took a deep breath so that he wouldn’t see what his betrayal did to her. And he knew damned well it was a betrayal. She had no doubt about that. She had heard it in his voice. She had seen it in his eyes in that millisecond before they broke contact with her own.
Part of her job as a writer was to do research. She had done a mountain of research on this already and any way you looked at it, it wasn’t good. At least- at least, it warranted further investigation, further thought, further discussion.
But Kel already knew that.
“You know that I am thorough,” she said, already knowing how this was going to end, but she had to say it anyway. “When have you ever known me to jump to hasty conclusions?”
“Look, I know that you believe there’s something more here and I respect your opinions. I always have. But if you can’t back any of your- theories with facts- ”
He stopped when he saw the look on her face.
Theories? They weren’t talking about theories here. It had never been about theories. Especially-
Conspiracy theories.
She groaned inwardly, hoping that he was not- not going to throw that emotionally-charged insult at her, because as far as she had seen, it was only used to suppress information or to undermine someone’s credibility. The phrase had obviously been planted into society and had become a way for blind, ill-informed people not to believe the truth by discrediting the source. Admittedly, it was a clever tactic, one that worked a lot of the time, maybe most of the time. But it shouldn’t work on Kel, not in the profession he was in.
“I’m not asking you to believe me,” she said, already knowing there wasn’t an icicle’s chance in hell of winning any kind of argument here. “I’m asking you to believe thousands of reports, not me. There is evidence. Conclusive evidence, Kel. Not theories.”
She sounded calm. She sounded reasonable. She knew that was the only way there was the remotest chance he was going to listen to her.
“I haven’t seen anything like that,” he said without looking at her.
“Probably not,” she said, a trace of sarcasm edging into her voice in spite of herself, her frustration causing her calm-and-collected to drop a notch or two. “But that doesn’t mean the reports don’t exist.”
“This is not the kind of thing people want to read about,” he said in an obvious attempt to divert her.
“So you want me to just what? Ignore it? Because?”
“Because people want to read about relevant topics,” he went on, not directly answering her question. “Relevant to their own lives. The things that affect them personally.”
“Hundreds of birds dropping down out of the sky right here in the middle of our town, our neighborhoods, that seems pretty relevant to me. Do you know that with the same kind of technology we’re talking about they can also- ”
Kel apparently didn’t want to know what else they could do. He looked sharply over at her. “Has it ever occurred to you that you go out of your way to find what you want to hear?”
“No,” she said, taken by surprise by his sudden vehemence because it had come out of nowhere and because now it was getting more personal. “Because this is definitely not what I want to hear.” She had to stop for a moment and re-focus. She had to gather herself emotionally and not let herself get angry even though that’s exactly what she was on the verge of doing. This was the same stubborn stance he had taken with the fires and she hadn’t been able to get through to him then, either.
“Drop it, Lise. There’s no connection here. There’s no story. Not for our readers. Besides, it’s old news by now.”
“Not when it ties in to other incidents.”
“That you can’t prove have any connection whatsoever.”
“Where exactly is this coming from?” she asked suddenly.
“It’s coming from common sense.”
“Common sense,” she scoffed under her breath. “You mean the common sense reporting we used to do where we tell the truth and then let people make up their own minds? The world- ”
“The world doesn’t work that way anymore,” he interrupted her, maybe a little harsher than was necessary. It was a sign that he had already lost patience with her, that any attempts to discuss this were coming to an end. That it was, in fact, already ended. If he saw her raised eyebrows, he pretended not to as he busied himself shuffling some papers on his desk. He kept his scowl directed downward at the papers and said, “To most people, a few dead birds in a park isn’t going to make a damned bit of difference in their lives one way or another. You already know that.”
“But the other people, even if they are a minority, at least they’ll be able to make choices based on the facts. They deserve the truth. Isn’t that what they should expect from us, what they have always expected from us?”
“And what choices would those be?” he asked, a hint of derision edging into his voice now.
She drew a fortifying breath, forcing calmness, and faced him. “The facts are pretty alarming for anyone who has bothered to look into them. I happen to think that people should not base their decisions, their futures, their very lives, on lies.”
There. She’d said it. In her opinion, in journalism, silence amounted to a lie when it was deliberate. When it hid the truth.
When so much was at stake. That was a conspiracy. But they had already had this discussion before.
He looked up and stared at her in silence for a few moments, then said a little too quietly, “But some, most, will want to do just that rather than be stirred up by fear-mongers.”
Fear-mongers. Another unfair label she couldn’t believe had just come out of his mouth.
“Some will, yes,” she agreed, ignoring the implied insult. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I just stayed silent after all that I know.”
And he shouldn’t either, she thought to herself. Didn’t he believe in truth, justice and the American way anymore? Or had he sold out like so many others?
“Even if people are already- ” He stopped abruptly but she already knew what he had been about to say.
Even if people were already avoiding her like the plague. In the beginning she had thought she would get some resistance, but not such anger and hostility. Nor that she would be sneeringly labeled a conspiracy theorist. And now, apparently, a fear-monger.
“I can see you’re getting upset,” Kel said in an irritatingly condescending voice as if he was talking to an unreasonable child. “I’ve told you before, emotions have no place in journalism.”
There she disagreed.
“So you’re telling me that journalists are supposed to be like robots.”
He didn’t reply at first. Finally he said, “That’s not what I’m saying. You have to be completely unbiased if you’re going to be any kind of decent journalist at all. You have to suppress your own opinions. You were hired as a professional. That’s what I expect of you. For the last time, if you have any plans in that direction, kill the story about the birds. It’s old news. Right now, I want you to concentrate on this new vaccination program. That’s something important. That’s something that everyone needs to know about.”
“Something relevant.”
“Yes. Go to the Health Department and get some pictures to go along with your story. Go over to the park and get some pictures there, too. That is going to make a difference. Do a thorough story. A positive story. I already know how you feel about vaccines, but your opinion is not the paper’s policy.”
And then he gave her a look that dared her to say anything against vaccines. He already knew her stance there. There was no point re-hashing it.
“You’re the boss,” she said, realizing that things were strained between them now in a way that they never had been, perhaps beyond repairing. She wanted to mockingly salute him, but she suppressed the urge.
“People are going to stop taking you seriously,” Kel said in a quieter voice, maybe trying to smooth things over a little between them. “What do you think that will do for your career?”
“Career?” she echoed scoffingly. This job wasn’t exactly a career-changer.
She watched as he rolled his eyes, not overtly, but she caught the slight upward shift nevertheless, realizing he was becoming, or maybe already had become, one of the people he was talking about, the ones who didn’t take her seriously.
“So when?” Lise couldn’t help asking one last question. “So when will you want to know? When it affects you? Your family? When- ” She bit off the words she had been about to say.
When someone you know is lying there like those birds? When it’s too late?
“They - don’t – want – to – know,” he repeated, dragging out each word for emphasis. Then he extended his arm and glanced at his brand-new smart watch. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late for that meeting. We can discuss this more when I get back.”
But she knew that wasn’t going to happen. They were clearly done discussing it. “I need to get going, too,” she said without looking at him.
She glanced over at him in time to see him nod. She nodded, too, because she needed to give some kind of answer, even a silent one that he didn’t bother to acknowledge anyway. But what she really needed was space so she could think about- everything. This job. Her future. Where to go from here.
As for Kel, he could suppress the story. He could stop her from using the paper to tell people about what she had seen, about what she knew. But as for the dead birds in the park? Nothing short of divine intervention was going to change that fact. And as for the truth? It had a way of coming out on its own, eventually.
Over at Loeckler Park, they were lined up like a snake whose head disappeared into a hole, a colorful snake whose restless midsection and disjointed tail were exposed to the bright mid-day sunshine while its fanged end vanished into the darkness beyond the open doorway of the castle-like park administration building. It was a warm day already and the temperature was climbing fast. The lucky ones waited in the shade of the trees outside but most were forced to stand in the bright glare of sunlight. As a result, people were getting uncomfortable, especially the ones with small children. In some cases, the teen-agers were even worse. There wasn’t a single one of them who didn’t believe wholeheartedly that they had better things to do with their weekends even though most of them were oblivious to everything beyond their iphones which could go with them anywhere, even to the park.
Some volunteers came outside and started passing out drinks. The people were surprised and grateful for the drinks. It was just one more indication that they were being take care of. They were grateful, too, that the shots were free and so readily available. Which meant that there was no reason not to get a shot. All they had to do was to fill out a form, sign a paper, get stuck, and they would have free immunity for themselves and their families for the rest of their lives. Who could argue with that? It also meant that they could continue to go to school and keep their jobs, and even more importantly, they wouldn’t have to worry about being contacted repeatedly about how much trouble they would be in if they didn’t get a shot by the designated deadline. The people were even happier when technicians started coming right outside, handing out forms and jabbing needles in extended arms like an assembly line. They all had lives to get back to. Some hadn’t eaten lunch yet. And the midday heat? It was only going to get worse as the day progressed.
“Keep your forms with you,” Lise heard as she snapped a photo. “As soon as you fill out your papers inside, they’ll give you your certificate of vaccination. And then you can leave. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“There might be some swelling or discomfort at the injection site for a few days,” another technician was saying in a raised voice so that everyone could hear him as he jabbed the arm of an obviously-pregnant woman. “That’s normal. An ice pack will take care of that.”
A small girl clinging to a woman’s legs started screaming shrilly when a needle pierced the skin of her skinny bare arm. The mother picked her up and tried to comfort her, sharing an apologetic look with the technician who had just administered the shot. In spite of reassurances, however, fear was infectious and other children down the line started crying without knowing why. As the child’s screams intensified, the mother made more apologies and they went back to waiting their turn in line so they could get their certificates. They were closer to the darkness now, almost out of the sunshine, and gradually the child’s wails diminished to heaving whimpers.
“They came up with this too fast, I’m thinking.”
Lise glanced over at the speaker. Odis Schaefer was seated in the shade on a bench not far away from her. She didn’t answer him because he had been talking to Floy Bascom who was sitting on the bench next to him. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she was close enough that she couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.
“They pretty much had to, didn’t they?” Floy asked as he turned to look at Odis.
“Hmph,” Odis grunted, keeping his thoughts to himself but squinting at the scene before him with something close to disapproval.
Lise, at least, was curious to know what Odis was thinking. She watched his face openly now, waiting for his opinion.
“You didn’t get your shot yet?” Floy asked Odis.
“Isn’t my shot,” O
dis answered as he continued to watch the line. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“What if they try and make you?” Floy asked.
It wasn’t unusual for Odis to buck the system. That was just the way he was. Everyone knew that. But Lise could see what Floy was thinking. Odis could rebel about other things, but not this. This was just common sense. This was important. There was no reason not to get a shot, and every reason to get one.
“They can try,” Odis replied as he shook his head slowly at the sobbing children, all of whom had been forced to receive their shots by now. “Those kids weren’t given any choice. A travesty is what it is. A damned travesty.”
“What’s a travesty?” Floy wanted to know.
“How they’re so willing to believe anything they’re told,” Odis replied without elaborating. Maybe he knew the hopelessness of getting through to the other man. Lise, too, thought it was hopeless.
“Who?” Floy questioned.
But Odis still didn’t answer him, so Floy asked another question. “What’s he doing?”
“Counting,” Odis replied as he narrowed his gaze at the technician in question.
“Sorry, folks,” they could hear the technician addressing everyone in line. “We’ll have to ask some of you to come back another day. The cut off ends right- here.” He brought his arm down between two of the people waiting in line. You could hear the murmur of disappointment even where Lise stood. “We’ll be out of the vaccine after this last group gets their shots. But don’t worry, a new shipment is due in a week or so. We won’t leave anybody out. Not in our county.”
No, they wouldn’t. There was a substantial incentive for 100% participation in each county within a set period of time, not to mention stiff penalties for failure.
But the people in line were thinking more personally about what this delay was going to cost them. A week or so? After they had just stood in line for more than an hour, most of them with unruly children? After they had already taken time out from their busy day? What if they got sick in the meantime because they hadn’t gotten the shot? Who was going to answer for that?
