by Ralph Gibbs
“Can we watch the damn movie?” Nate asked.
“Hey,” Paris said, turning on him. “Show a little compassion . . . and stop cussing, or I’ll take a belt to you.”
“All right, all right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been looking forward to doing something normal since, like, forever.”
“What’s going on?” Gunilla asked, coming into the room.
“Matthews upset,” Anita started. “Franklin’s upset that Matthews upset. Nate just wants to watch the damn movie and do something normal, and Paris wants him to stop cussing.” She turned to Paris. “Did I get it right?”
“You got it exactly right,” Paris said, trying hard not to laugh.
“I’m going over to the major’s house,” Gunilla said. As she left, Paris made herself comfortable. She put her feet up on the coffee table and then used her toes to peel her shoes off.
“Yuck,” Anita said, holding her nose and looking at Paris’ feet. “Something smells in here.”
“They do not,” Paris said, pulling a foot closer to her face and examining it. As she did, Franklin sat down with two bowls full of popcorn. As he handed a bowl to Nate, Paris showed him her foot. “What do you think?”
“They’re gorgeous,” he said, pushing the foot away and then picked up the remote and hit the play button.
“Shh,” Nate said. “It’s starting.”
Something crashed on the floor behind them. Startled, they turned to see Danica with a shattered plate of leftovers at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said as she started to clean it up. “It’s just . . . when I came and saw you all messing around in the living room, for a second, I saw my family.” She looked wistful. “We used to do something like this once a month. You know, family night. We’d watch a movie or play a game. My brother was good at games.” She paused for a long time. “I miss family night.” She paused for a long moment; her head downcast. She looked up. “They’re not coming back, are they? I’ve been staying here hoping they would, but they’re not.”
Paris got up and started to come over. “Don’t,” Danica said, croaking out the words. “There’s glass everywhere. You’ll cut yourself.”
“This was a bad idea,” Franklin said.
“No, just the opposite,” Danica said. “I think we should get everyone together tomorrow night and watch a movie. We’ll make it a party. A moving-on party. We’ll have deer and cake. I’ll let everyone know when the storm passes, I’m going with you to Colorado. I mean, if that’s okay.”
“You are more than welcome,” Paris said.
“What about everyone else?” Danica asked.
“Everyone is welcome,” Paris said. “There’s strength in numbers.”
“What about ice cream?” asked Anita as she helped Danica pick up the glass. “You can’t have cake without ice cream.”
Danica ran her finger down the bridge of Anita’s nose. “And ice cream. I’ll send Ruiz out in the morning to find an ice cream maker.”
“You know, this all sounds great,” Nate said, “but can we get back to watching the fu—Paris glared at him—movie?”
CHAPTER 39
Gunilla knocked on the door. She went to the guest house to inform Major Barrette that she was grateful for his offer, but she would leave with Paris and hopefully be reunited with her father in Colorado. She’d be lying if she hadn’t seriously considered his offer to run the Atlanta hospital, but in the long run, she realized she wasn’t qualified. She might have the title of a doctor, but she only knew enough medicine to help out here and there. Some knowledge of medicine was necessary for her doctorate, but it wasn’t enough to qualify her to see patients, at least not without a lot of study in her off time. At this point, the physician’s assistant would undoubtedly know more than her, and as such, was more qualified to run the hospital.
Also, over the last month, she had learned that being a medical doctor wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. There was a certain exhilaration knowing you saved someone’s life, but at the same time, a lot of blood. It was all she could do to keep from throwing up when she removed Rebecca’s bullet. She had nightmares for days afterward. Then Franklin showed up with his own bullet hole; there was even more blood and more nightmares. Nope. Research was what she was meant to do. It was a path she’d been running toward all her life, but when it was within her grasp, she ran from it as if it were the plague. Running was why she was in the United State. Her parents thought she wanted one last hurrah before settling down to a life of research, but they were wrong. She was running away from her father’s shadow, wondering why she’d wanted to be a virologist in the first place. In school, people were always comparing her to her famous father.
“Your father was a prodigy,” the administrator had said.
“Your father was a wiz at this subject,” her teachers would say.
They never came right out and said they expected her to excel because of who her father was, but it was implied. It was the same when she applied for her Ph.D. After she received her degree, she had no end of job offers, but she found she was terrified of not being able to live up to her father’s reputation. Especially since she was getting those job offers because of her father’s position.
Therefore, instead of taking a job, she ran away like a frightened teenager. Then the plague hit and the world, and her role in it changed forever. Major Barrette had offered one last chance at a reprieve, and she was here to turn it down. It was exciting to know that she wanted to be a researcher, and no longer cared if she lived her entire life in her father’s shadow. Now she relished the idea. Her excitement at having decided was why she didn’t want to wait until the morning to tell Major Barrette of her choice. She was about to knock again when Sergeant Wilfred pulled the door open.
“Doctor,” he said with a slight smirk, almost as if he knew a secret. “The major’s upstairs in his room. I’ll show you the way.”
“I’ll wait in the living room,” Gunilla said taken aback at the suggestion she should go into the major’s room at this time of night. When the sergeant looked surprised, she suddenly realized he thought she was here to have sex with the major and it annoyed her. Did the fact that she wasn’t married and pregnant, make her a whore in their eyes?
“I’ll get him.”
“You do that,” she said sharply. The more she thought about what the sergeant thought, the angrier she became. “You know what? Never mind.” She turned to leave when Major Barrette and Greg Fulton appeared at the head of the stairs.
“What do we owe the pleasure of the visit?” Major Barrette asked, pleasantly surprised.
“It’s certainly not to have sex with you,” she said, nearly shouting. Both men stopped in their tracks, shocked at the sudden outburst. She turned and headed defiantly for the door.
“Wait,” Major Barrette said, rushing down the stairs and blocking the door before she could leave. “What in the world gave you the impression I wanted to have sex with you?”
On impulse, Gunilla’s eyes darted up to Sergeant Wilford.
“Sergeant Wilfred, what the hell did you say?”
“Nothing, sir,” Sergeant Wilford answered, genuinely sounding puzzled. “Honestly. All I said was that I would escort her up to your room.”
“It’s not what he said,” Gunilla said, indignantly. “It was how he said it, and the look he gave me.” Now that she said it out loud, it sounded silly on the surface, and he must think her crazy, but there was no mistaking that look. “I’ve seen that look a hundred times. You and your men have been talking about me. Perhaps you’ve been bragging to them of your upcoming conquest? Or did you tell them we already had sex?”
Major Barrette turned to the sergeant and gave him a withering look. “Go put on a pot of coffee,” he said to the man.
“Yes sir,” the sergeant said, looking at them like a whipped puppy.
“I’m sorry,” the major said when the sergeant disappeared into the kitchen. “The truth is the men have talked about you. I discuss
ed the fact that I hoped you might head to Atlanta with us. They made a few rude comments as military men are apt to do, but I assure you I put a stop to that.”
“I can vouch for that,” Greg said. “For a few minutes there, I thought he would shoot one of them.”
“Now it looks like I didn’t put my foot down strong enough. I promise you, in the future, they will show you nothing but respect.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t want to have sex with me?” she said, still annoyed. The major was caught off guard with the question and hesitated, somehow feeling as if he’d entered a minefield.
His voice became tentative. “I won’t lie to you; I’ve entertained a few thoughts.” It was a lie. He had entertained a lot of thoughts. “I’ve spent the day getting to know you, and I found your company highly enjoyable. More than I have anyone in a long time. However, after what you and Paris went through, I would never even consider trying. I didn’t want to add to that emotional turmoil. Once we get to Atlanta and you’ve had a chance to decompress and feel safe, I might consider calling on you. But, only if you’re comfortable.” She stood there looking at him for a few long moments and then relented.
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling ashamed and not sure why.
“Don’t be,” he added. “You had every right to be angry.”
“No, not about that. I mean, yes I’m sorry that I got angry, but I’m also sorry I won’t be going to Atlanta.” He looked at her for a few moments before saying anything.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice suddenly devoid of emotion. “Come, let’s go into the study and talk.” He turned to her as they walked. “I don’t know who owned this house before, but I love the study. It suits a military man.” In the study, he walked to the bar and started to pour himself a glass of tequila and motioned for her to sit in what he liked to call the smoking chair opposite a second smoking chair. “I think this room is where two cantankerous old men came to smoke cigars and have a glass of brandy.” He looked at his glass. “Or, rather tequila. Care for a glass?”
“No, thank you,” Gunilla said, almost tartly.
“Oh shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. You’re pregnant. No drinking for you.” He studied the bottle. “A shame. This is really expensive stuff.” He put the bottle down and turned to face her. “What made you change your mind?”
She smiled. “My father’s alive. I want to see him. Besides, I’m not a doctor. At least not in the sense you need.”
“I see,” he said, and then downed the glass in one swallow. He poured himself another glass. “I have a counterproposal.”
“Major,” Greg said, trying to stop what was coming. “Don’t.”
“You come with us to Atlanta, and we don’t kill all your friends and everyone in this compound,” Major Barrette said, ignoring Greg as he sat in the chair and faced her grimly.
“What?” she said, looking at him, shocked.
“I’m sorry to be blunt, but I think I need to lay all my cards on the table. Atlanta needs doctors, and my commander has orders that require him to send you there, willingly if possible, by force if necessary. If you decide not to go willingly, he’s going to come into this little community and take you. I doubt your friends are going to let that happen.”
“They’ll stop you.”
“They’ll try. But they will fail. Many of the men under Colonel Dorsey’s command are ex-military. We even have a few Special Forces in the group. They’re highly trained, highly motivated, and highly armed. The most dangerous people here are Franklin, Paris, and Danica, in that order. Hell, Danica can’t even keep her guards awake at night. Our men will come in here and, if need be, burn the place to the ground, kill everyone, and take you anyway. It’s possible, though unlikely, your friends will prevail, but it’ll be a bloodbath. A lot of innocent people will die either way. Probably some of the kids too. If, however, you come along willingly, nobody dies. Your friends go on to live long, happy lives. Unless someone else kills them, which given the current state of the world we live in, is entirely possible. But at least they’ll live beyond tomorrow.”
“I thought you were a nice person.”
“You think I’m happy about this,” he said softly staring into his glass. “I wanted you to come willingly. But orders are orders.”
“You’re a part of this,” she said to Greg.
“We’re just people trying to survive in what’s left of a shitty world,” the major said before Greg could answer. “In my view, Atlanta gives us the best chance and you up those odds. I would think after what happened to Paris you would agree with me.”
“You mean safe as long as you’re white,” she blurted out, unable to stop herself. “I’ve heard people talking.”
“It’s true. The Winthrop group is mostly a white supremacist group, but not everyone believes in what they do. I have no problem with anyone. Greg doesn’t either.”
“Yet, you’re with them,” Gunilla said.
“So are a lot of people. Look, most are just ordinary people that want safety, and we give them that. Most feel the more radical members eventually will calm down and grow more accepting.”
“The Jews felt the same way about the Nazis,” she said. “Did you know some Jews actually voted for Hitler feeling that once he was in power, he would calm down?”
“I . . .” he started to say. “We are not Nazis.”
“Not yet,” she shot back. “How many people have your men killed because they weren’t white?” He didn’t answer. “Maybe you’re closer to their way of thinking than you realize.”
“So, you’re not coming?” he asked, starting to lose his temper. “You’ll force my commander to come in here and take you?”
“I didn’t say that,” Gunilla snapped.
“Fantastic,” he asked clapping his hands. “I promise you won’t be sorry. I know what you must think of our society, but some there are trying to change it from within. As a doctor, they’ll be less likely to silence you. Together, maybe the two of us can bring about that change.”
“When do we leave?” Gunilla asked sharply.
“As much as I like it here, I think it best if we leave first thing in the morning. Less chance of you changing your mind.” Gunilla headed for the door. “I hope you’ll keep this conversation to yourself. You say something to Paris, and she’ll march over here and kill us in our sleep. Then the bloodbath will start.”
“I’m not stupid,” she said, slamming the door.
“You better hope you never go to that hospital injured,” Greg said.
The major ignored him. “Sergeant Wilfred?”
“Sir, I’m sorry,” the man said, stepping into the room.
“Don’t let it worry you, son,” the major said. “I want you to head to the base camp and let the colonel know the good doctor is coming with us. And sergeant, try not to be seen.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ask the colonel to detail a few men to watch over the town,” the major said.
“You think she’ll try and escape?” Greg asked.
“Not really, but I want to make sure.”
“Why not just grab her now?” Sergeant Wilfred asked.
“Because I don’t want Franklin and Paris dogging our trail back to Atlanta,” Major Barrette said and then gave a snorty laugh. “I do not doubt that Paris would strut right into the heart of Atlanta to get that girl back. She loves Gunilla and hates her all at the same time.”
“You mean she’s a lesbian,” Sergeant Wilford said, sounding surprised.
“Grow up sergeant,” the major said.
“Maybe we should just kill Paris and Franklin,” the sergeant said.
“Even if we had our weapons, we don’t have enough men,” the major said. Sergeant Wilfred looked doubtful. “Paris is her friend and FBI. That automatically makes her dangerous. Franklin is a different animal altogether. You know what a cassowary is, sergeant?”
“Never heard of it Is it one of them weird-looking South Ame
rican fruits?”
“It’s a small bird that can’t fly,” the major said. “Native to Papua New Guinea and Australia. Picture a midget ostrich with a blue head and red eyes. Very cute. They make great zoo attractions, though zookeepers hate them because they are so fucking unpredictable. Still, it’s a fucking midget ostrich, right? Must be harmless, right? Except, the Guinness Book of World Records listed it as one of the most dangerous birds in the world. You’ve seen how a kangaroo kicks?”
“It uses its tail to balance, then leans back and kicks,” Sergeant Wilfred said.
“When the cassowary attacks, it looks just like a kangaroo kicking you, except they don’t have a tail to balance on, so they just jump up and dropkick your ass with feet tipped with scalpel-like claws that can disembowel a man with a single blow. Franklin, he’s a goddamn cassowary, just not as cute.” Major Barrette got up and filled his glass again, then turned back to Sergeant Wilford. “He may look harmless, but that man scares the shit out of me. He should scare the shit out of you as well.”
CHAPTER 40
The next morning, as Paris was busy shoveling eggs into her mouth, Gunilla abruptly announced she was headed to Atlanta with Major Barrette, and they were leaving in ten minutes. The shock of the sudden admission silenced everyone.
“That’s why Private Tisden came over this morning, and none of them are sitting at the table with us,” Paris said, dropping her fork loudly onto the plate.
“Why?” Anita asked. It was the question on everyone’s lips.
“They need doctors,” Gunilla said.
“They need doctors in Colorado,” Paris said, barely holding her anger in check.
“They already have doctors in Colorado,” Gunilla countered. “Atlanta doesn’t. I can help make a difference there. And they want me to run their hospital. You can always come to visit me.”
“No, I can’t,” Paris said, raising her voice.
