Sandhill Street: The Loss of Gentleness

by Rob Summers

Chapter 30 Celebrations

  Carried by the third and last helicopter, Dignity, Reason, and Truth arrived at last on the Gloria Dothan. After being brought to the ballroom, they were led directly to the head of the Captain’s table, arriving in time to share in the glorious meal.

  Dignity, while feeling the loss of his parents, or rather of the people he had taken his parents to be, felt also a sense of relief. Trying to remain loyal and protective toward them had become too draining. Now he could concentrate on the good of his immediate family, including Obscurity, who he now filled in on what had happened. Despite the nearness of her performance with the Outlaws, she listened attentively and spoke encouragingly to him. To her mind it had been a choice between his parents and his King, and she had no doubt that he had chosen rightly. With her encouragement, Dignity soon became reasonably cheerful.

  While he was still eating, Obscurity left to change into her performing costume. The Outlaws, however, were not due to come on stage for some time, and in the meantime, the navy orchestra started to play. Couples began to find their way to the floor, Captain Mercy and Love being among the first, and soon Dignity’s table was almost empty. Remaining were the three who had arrived late, and midway down its length, Joy and Fret, who now was to be called Prudence.

  Dignity felt Prudence was looking uncommonly fetching, and he hoped that Joy would do the right thing and take her to the floor, but minutes were passing and the two sat there without even speaking to each other. At last Dignity left his plate, went to Joy and drew him away to the privacy of a colonnade along the wall.

  “I know, I know,” Joy said before Dignity could speak. “You want me to dance with her. But I’ve done everything I promised and that should be more than enough.”

  “But this is for your sake as much as hers,” Dignity said. “Your heart’s tied up with her, so you’ve got to see the thing through.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just glad I know who she is now.”

  “No you’re not, you look miserable. You won’t be happy till you’re sure that what you thought you saw in her in the past weeks was just an illusion. Who is she now?—that’s the question, not who she was ten years ago. Now get over there and give her a chance. Look at her, isn’t she pretty?”

  Joy did look. Then he shuddered. “No, no, it’s Miss Worry, it’s just Miss Worry looking like in a fun-house mirror.” He squared his shoulders. “But Dad raised me to be a gentleman, so…all right, one dance. That’s all?”

  Dignity decided not to press him. “Right, just one dance for an eccentric ‘middle-aged lady.’ But do one thing for me. Look into her eyes.”

  Joy looked into Dignity’s eyes with anything but affection. “No way. I’ll be back with her in five minutes. You can dance with her then if you want to.”

  Dignity returned to his chair satisfied that he had done his best. He was not used to such maneuverings, didn’t consider himself to be very clever (and indeed wasn’t), and held out little hope that Joy’s infatuation with the former Miss Fret could be revived. At least, he thought, the poor woman had not been humiliated, either by going unescorted to the ball or by sitting during the dancing as an ignored wallflower. Such consolations would have to be enough.

  His cousin Reason was just thanking him for his efforts with Joy, which she and Truth had observed, when the Captain and Love returned from the floor. It was hard to say which looked more pleased, so that Dignity began to have a glimmering that something more was going on between them than mutual politeness.

  “A fantastic celebration,” Dignity said to the Captain.

  “Thank you, we’re honored to have you,” said the Captain. “In the cities of Heaven you of Grace House are famous, you know. Many are talking about your long, lonely battle against the City.”

  Dignity was tongue-tied for he had never thought of such a thing: that is, that though his past infatuation with Miss Fame Vainglory had been insufferable and sinful, he could still have a rightful and innocent fame, one not of this world. Nevertheless, he thought it best to put the Captain’s words out of his mind as soon as possible, for he knew his own weakness.

  “Captain,” Reason said, “I feel I ought to apologize in advance for something having to do with the entertainment. Some of us have tried to talk Obscurity out of wearing something that might offend, but she seems determined. I’m afraid she’ll be wearing an earring that symbolizes a method commonly used to execute Heavenites.”

  “But surely no one here would take offense at that?” said the Captain as he gestured toward Reason. “Aren’t you doing much the same?”

  “Oh, no, I would never do that,” Reason said, while hastily looking down at herself to find out what the Captain was referring to. All she saw was the little silver cross hung on a chain around her neck. “What she’s wearing is…what are you all laughing about? Oh, wait, I see. Hmm, why don’t we all just forget I said anything?”

  Love now spoke eagerly, “I don’t want to forget anything that happens tonight, because it’s all so wonderful and because I know the Gloria Dothan can’t stay here for very long.”

  “What makes you say that?” said Captain Mercy.

  “Why, only that we’ve been told this isn’t the invasion, so I suppose you will have other ports to visit.”

  “I want to explain to you what’s about to take place,” he said. “I came into this part of the world under orders to visit your City only when a sort of revolution had taken place on Sandhill Street, a revolution the spirit of which is embodied in your recent Proclamation. But my orders from the Admiralty included further instructions. Given that the Gloria Dothan could come this far, I was to assess the safety of Grace House and any other house or houses loyal to the King and protect them for as long as needed. Well, what do I find? Your Ambassador tells me that the local, rebel leaders—this Mr. Power, the immigrant Therion, and whoever else—have recently tried and executed a Heavenite citizen. He tells me that other citizens, newly naturalized, are already on the bad side of a City law that forbids flying the Heavenite flag on pain of death.”

  “You’re going to stay!” Love exclaimed, anticipating him. “For how long?”

  Mercy did not seem to mind the interruption. “I tell you this so freely because we have already sent official communications to the City authorities. In other words, tomorrow morning it will be, or ought to be, public knowledge. Of course, Power and Therion may suppress the news. What I have told them is that the Dothan is not leaving, but will be here until the Liberation.”

  His listeners responded with expressions of impassioned delight and thankfulness until Reason laughed and said, “No, I don’t think Mr. Power will publish that story, not when he’s spent all day trying to deny that the Dothan exists. He won’t be a happy man.”

  “But Lady Reason,” said the Captain, “I think he is right now experiencing a kind of happiness in the form of relief. Just think, until now he must have believed this was the invasion!”

  As their laughter died down, Dignity raised a wine glass. “Captain, gentlemen, and ladies, I propose a toast: to our King and to the Gloria Dothan!”

  Seated at a desk in his bunker beneath City Hall, Power looked again at the letter from Captain Mercy and felt the happiness that accompanies profound relief. Glorious relief, sweet relief! Until that moment, he had been seriously considering two courses of action. For one of them he had had prepared secretly, by Lawyer Snare, an offer of the surrender of the City. The terms were not complicated. He and Therion would be given safe passage to any destination of their choice and would be allowed to transfer their bank accounts with them. A small thing to ask, he thought, for the otherwise unconditional surrender of a whole city. He wasn't even asking that his wife be allowed to go with him, for he considered her as far from essential to his happiness. Nevertheless, he was deathly afraid that his offer would be brushed aside as the tanks would roll through the streets.


  For his other course of action he had prepared a loaded pistol.

  But now, relief—sweet relief—unlooked for delay of the invasion! It might be years, he himself might be dead, before the hammer would fall. Power was not a praying man, but he felt an impulse toward something like prayer, a need to fall on his knees before a Higher Power in thanks for this release, this opportunity to go on controlling and commanding in the City. All he wanted was a little more of the same, more of being his unrestrained self, more of dictating to others, more of the free, rude, subordinate-crushing life he had always known. His wish was granted: it was Christmas after all.

  Whistling to himself, he called his Intelligence chief. “Sordid? What about those white bubble things in the mountains? Are they coming any closer? No?”

  Sordid explained to him that they were coming no closer. He added that the latest theory was that the bubbles had never actually moved but that the City had.

  “Say what?” Power roared.

  “It’s just theory, sir. Because it isn’t just the bubbles that are appearing bigger to us, it’s the mountains too. Looks like this whole geological plate we’re on has been sliding that direction. Not fast and not at a steady rate. It’s stopped now.”

  “Well, what if it starts again?” Power demanded. “Get somebody on this. Make sure we can reverse it next time.” Sordid was silent. “What?”

  “Sir, we can’t affect the movement of a trillion tons of earth and rock under us, nobody could. Anyway, if it was just geological movement, that proves those bubbles weren’t coming after us. They just stayed right where they were. They’re probably just big hunks of crystal.”

  Power liked that idea and told him so. The Pearl Effect might look like huge Heavenite cities but they weren’t. More good news. He wished Sordid a merry Christmas and got off the line.

  A moment later his phone rang and he picked it up.

  “Power, did you get a copy of Mercy’s letter?” It was Therion, sounding a little stronger than the last time they had talked but still far from well.

  Power just did restrain himself from laughing out loud with glee. “You bet I did. What a dope, huh? They’re staying out of the City.”

  “He’s no dope, Power, and that ship is staying right where it is. Did you note that?”

  “Sure, I saw it. Outside of town. Well, what of it?”

  “It means we can’t move against Dread House. They’re flying a Heavenite flag and we don’t dare touch them!”

  “I say we do. I say Captain Brutality rounds them up tomorrow and gives them a taste of our best cellblock hospitality. Mercy has already shown he doesn’t have the guts to invade. He’ll just stand by and do nothing.”

  “Have you forgotten that shelling!” Therion shouted. “You weren’t hit, I was.”

  “Yeah, yeah, sorry. So what do you say we do?”

  “We can’t risk any more of that because it rips the lid off of our position here. We’ve already got one neighborhood where we couldn’t suppress the news of what happened that night. Add a few more, and we’ll soon lose control of the City. The media can’t help us if citizens have shells landing in their front yards and their streets.”

  “OK, you’ve got a point. So what do we do?”

  “This is straight from my bosses,” Therion said. “No overt moves against Dread House or Grace House. You’re to treat them like they’re our last best hope in this world, because in a way they are.”

  “Therion, if we leave them alone, this thing is going to spread. Two houses, what’s that? But what if it gets to be two dozen?”

  “I said no overt moves. We’ll go after them another way.” Therion paused and seemed to be thinking. “This is going to be tricky. We’ve always had our indirect methods, our subtle traps and inveiglements. We’ll just have to work that side of it harder than ever. That being the case, that boy Gentleness could be a problem after all. I’d like you to see about having him taken out.”

  “Forget it,” Power said, “I already ordered Brutality to take care of it, and he refused me to my face. It turns out that neither he or any man on the force will touch the kid.”

  “He refused an order?” Therion was shrill. “Fire him.”

  “Damn it, Therion, I’m running out of police. We had five resignations from among the ones who got shelled, and I’ve had twenty more because of this Valhalla thing.”

  “Why won’t they do it?”

  Power sighed with disgust. “They say they’re afraid of someone who—well, who they say came back from the dead. Even Dr. Provocation says she never wants to see him again.”

  Therion swore ferociously. “All I’m asking is a bullet in the back of the head. Just one sniper.”

  “Can’t do it. But even if we did, what if he popped up alive again? We’d have no police force left. We’re hanging on by a thread, Doctor. I’ve got no maneuvering room.”

  “I want to kill him,” Therion said, forcing out the words. “I want to do it myself.”

  “So do I, so do I.”

  Therion fell into more profanity, swore till he wept, and finally—hung up.

  Power put down the receiver and thought it all over. It had been a very bad year, his worst. It looked to have no happy ending either. Nevertheless…. He opened a drawer, took out the pistol, and unloaded it, resuming his whistling as he performed this simple task. It had been a bad year, a very bad one. Yet one major threat seemed to be solving itself, for not the least of his troubles had been having Therion forced on him as the administration’s favored mayoral candidate. But now, even before taking office, Therion was cracking up both physically and mentally. With any luck, the Mayor-elect would soon lack the strength to supplant him, Power, in making the daily decisions involved in running the City. So there would be no Heavenite invasion and no Hellite boss breathing down his neck. He was confident that next year he would have control, sweet, sweet control. He opened another drawer and took out a bottle of Seagrams. It was Christmas, and he would jolly well celebrate it.

  During the last two dances, the Outlaws had been setting up their equipment and instruments on a corner of the stage, but for now the orchestra was still playing. Captain Mercy had taken Love to the dance floor again and Truth had taken Reason. One of the Orchard girls had taken charge of Dignity’s children for the night, so not having his wife available, Dignity had expected to dance with someone else, probably Miss Prudence. Considerably more than one waltz had played since Joy had led her to the floor. Perhaps Joy had abandoned her and she had gone to cry somewhere. If so, he had better find her and offer what consolation he could.

  But when he came to the dancers he soon spotted Joy and Prudence whirling among them, and he thought Joy was holding her closer than was to be expected for merely charitable purposes. Momentarily, the music ended, and he approached them, noting as he did that, as Joy turned to him, he kept his arm around his partner’s waist. Prudence was smiling, and Joy was looking sheepish.

  “Being a bit greedy, aren’t you?” Dignity asked him. “I thought I was to have my turn.”

  “Sorry. You’re OK for the next.” He looked to Prudence. “I mean, if it’s all right with you.”

  When she agreed, Dignity begged her pardon and led Joy away to another colonnade.

  “Aren’t you overdoing this kindness to an aged lady act?” he said with a straight face. “She’s going to start to think you’re serious.”

  “Oh, cut it out. I can’t take ribbing right now. My mind’s in a knot.”

  “Looked into her eyes, didn’t you?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “OK, I will, on one condition—that you go back and make my apologies to her because I find I’m not inclined to dance after all. You’ll just have to muddle on.”

  Joy at last laughed. “You’re merciless.”

  They were interrupted by a sudden earsplitting screech. Everyone looked around, and some
of the navy officers appeared concerned. Dignity assured those nearby that it was not an iceberg but just the Outlaws’ stage speakers. He pointed to where his lovely wife stood at a microphone, her prematurely white hair pouring over her shoulders and a metallic-blue electric guitar slung in front of her. She was wearing a headband and one dangling earring.

  “OK, that’s enough of the nineteenth century,” her excessively amplified voice said. “Now let’s wake this place up.”

  The officers, who were mostly young people, applauded and whistled.

  “I’m Obscurity and these are the Outlaws,” she said. “This is Backtalk on the drums…Sullen on bass…and Spacewalk on keyboard…and we intend to make this ship vibrate from end to end.” More applause. “We want to thank Captain Mercy and the whole Heavenite navy for letting us perform here tonight. I especially want to thank the Captain for buying up all our leftover CD’s that we couldn’t sell in the City, which was just about all of them we had made; and I understand he’s got them piled up on a table somewhere—where?—they’re telling me starboard, whatever that means.” Much laughter. “And anyway, they’re for free there for whatever navy guy or gal wants one.” Much more applause. “We’ll be available to autograph them later.”

  By this time Dignity had drawn close enough to clearly see his wife’s infamous earring, which was a dangling hypodermic syringe.

  “This first song is dedicated to a remarkable guy,” she said. “Gentleness, where are you? You see him there, that good lookin’ kid with the classy date? Nobody knew it until recently, but it turns out Gentleness is like the ultimate secret weapon in the hand of the Lord. No, don’t shake your head, Gentleness. Baby, this one’s called ‘Out of Town’ and it’s for you.”

  The outlaws exploded into the song, with Obscurity snarling the lead:

  I will not lie, God knows I did

  What every witness saw;

  And my court appointed lawyer can’t

  Protect me from the law.

  Surveillance cameras captured me;

  I match the whole profile.

  The DNA, it matches me;

  They’re ready for the trial.

  Get out of town!

  Take to the woods.

  Get out of town!

  Forget their rules.

  Let’s run like hell

  ’Cause heaven is

  A place outside of town.

  The crowd started clapping and swaying, as outside the windows fireworks began to explode above the ship.

  I don’t pay taxes, cast my vote,

  Or wage my country’s wars.

  Won’t eat your candy; I don’t want

  Your kisses anymore.

  My friends the ravens feed me since

  The MREs gave out.

  Can’t watch TV, but I know what

  Surviving is about.

  Get out of town!….

  Reason found Wisdom in the crowd and, when she put her arm around his skinny shoulders, he looked up and grinned. He yelled something that she couldn’t hear, so she leaned an ear down to his face.

  “I said I want to come back and visit on the ship while she’s here. May I?”

  She nodded emphatically, for the Captain had mentioned at the table that this evening’s visitors should feel free to come back any time.

  Obscurity launched into a higher, more maniacal pitch.

  The law’s a crazy, toothless wolf

  That howls but never bites;

  And we build our fires with fence rails, so

  We all keep warm at night.

  Don’t tell me what old Mammon does

  To pad a thin bankroll.

  It still may be a lethal dose

  And dump you in a hole.

  Get out of town!

  Take to the woods.

  Get out of town!

  Forget their rules.

  Let’s run like hell

  ’Cause heaven is

  A place outside of town.