by Mackey, Jay
He sneers at me and says, “We know who you are, where you came from, and what you did. Your lies are useless. Tell me what I need to know; we can be done with this and all go home.”
I’m pretty sure I’m not going home. Not any time soon, and probably not ever.
“We have your gun, you know. We have the gun, and your fingerprints are on the gun, so we know it is the one that you used.”
I look at my hands. There’s black stuff on all my fingers, so they must have taken my fingerprints while I was unconscious. I hadn’t noticed, because my hands are also covered in blood. I’ve bled quite a bit from my nose, where it was smashed. I bet my face looks great. Black and blue, probably, and red, too, I guess, with blood smeared all over it.
The fingerprints are another confusing thing. Because I’m pretty sure they don’t have my gun.
24
59 days until the Pulse Anniversary
Rachel’s eyes are still puffy when I get to her place. Her mother is home, too, and she looks like she’s been crying too. They both attack me when I walk in, anxious for good news. I don’t have any to give them. I tell them about my meeting with Williams, that he confirmed that Wilson had been picked up, and that he’d likely be sent to a camp where they’d try to re-educate him. When Mrs. DuBonnette seems not to understand, I say, “They try to get them to stop being gay.”
That pisses her off.
I’m about tell them about Jake and the RIP, but as soon as I say, “Jake and Flip . . .” she holds up her hand and nods toward her mother. So I just say, “. . . send their sympathies. They like Wilson too.” I’ll wait until we’re alone to tell Rachel. I ask about Rob, and ask to see him. Rachel says we’ll wait until dark and then she’s to take some food to him. She won’t tell me where he is, so we sit, waiting. I answer the same questions over and over for her and her mother. What is the camp, where is it, why this and why that? I don’t have many answers.
We don’t sit on the same couch, don’t hold hands. There’s no warmth, no hugging. So things haven’t changed. Rachel needs me, but for a far different reason than the one she’d had not so long ago.
Finally, as the sun starts to dip, we leave. I follow her toward campus. I start to tell her about my meeting with the RIP, but she tells me to wait. She’ll hear it when I tell Rob. It’s completely dark when we approach a fraternity house not far from the “hill” where Chrissie’s sorority house is located, along with a number of other Greek houses. Rachel tells me it’s not Rob’s fraternity, but he knew the house was vacant because it’s off by itself and not located near any well or other water source.
We’ve taken a roundabout route to get here, just in case we’re being followed. But Rachel’s confident that no one is behind us now, so we go in the back door and up a darkened staircase. I have my little tactical flashlight with me; it’s something that’s been second nature to carry at all times since the pulse, kind of like a cell phone in the old days. Rob is in one of the front bedrooms.
He says he’s the only one in the house, but that it’s pretty clear that the place has been occupied recently, so he’s not real comfortable hiding here for long. He’s famished, not having eaten since he got here last night, so he fills us in on what actually happened between bites of one of the sandwiches that Rachel made for him.
He says that he had stopped by the bicycle shop last night just about closing time, and walked with Wilson toward home. About halfway home, they split up, Wilson continuing home, Rob to go to work at the police station, now the militia office. He says they kissed good-bye, as partners do, and they were suddenly surrounded by three militia men, two who had apparently been following them, and another who pulled up in an army vehicle. There was a struggle as he and Wilson resisted, having done nothing wrong. Wilson was forced into the vehicle, but Rob says he knew one of the militia men, and the guy let him escape in the confusion. He ran and hid until he was sure no one was still chasing him, and then snuck home in the middle of the night to get some things he’d need, told Rachel what had happened and came over to the frat house to hide out.
I fill the two of them in on what I’d learned, and on the plan to stage a raid on the camp where Wilson would be held. Rob is enthusiastic, thanking me over and over for moving on this so quickly. He says he wants in on the raid, but isn’t sure whether any of his friends should be approached about joining in. He’s also not confident he could approach anyone in the militia, even good buddies from college, because it would likely put them at risk, given that they could be charged with helping a fugitive. He’s pretty confident that his identity is known, and that he’s likely to be arrested if spotted by any militia.
I offer to let him come out to stay at the farm, but he thinks that will be too obvious, that too many people know about me and Rachel, so sooner or later someone will show up looking for him. I promise to keep him informed of the plans, as long as he lets Rachel know where he’s hiding.
On the way back to Rachel’s, she informs me that she is going on the raid too. I object, but she can be very stubborn at times and I can’t change her mind. She says she can run as far and as fast as most men, can shoot as well (I’ve taken her out shooting several times, and she’s right), and is mean enough to beat the shit out of a lot of guys. I’ll vouch for her there, too. So I drop the subject until later. I’m thinking that Jake or Flip will be luckier than me at getting her to stay home.
25
58 days until the Pulse Anniversary
This morning I decide to go for a run, mostly because I want to see if Rachel will run with me, but also just to clear my head. Rachel turns me down, barely even giving it consideration. She acts almost like it’s insulting that I ask. There’s been no thawing in our relationship status, even given that she’s been very grateful for what I’ve done to help with the Rob and Wilson situation. So I run by myself.
I wind around campus, taking a route that brings me within sight of the frat house where Rob’s hiding out. I don’t go close, and don’t see any activities around the house. I tell myself this is a reconnaissance mission, but I’m kidding myself, just like when I tell myself that I’m checking to see if I’m being followed. I’m not, but that doesn’t mean a thing since anyone would know that I’m going to end up back at Rachel’s. In truth, I’m running because I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening. I feel a need to do something; surely there is some action I can take that will change things, get Wilson freed, clear Rob so he can come out of hiding, make Rachel love me again. SOMETHING.
I lose my motivation to run and cut the route, covering maybe seven miles, maybe fewer. Even so, Rachel is gone when I get back, so I clean up, grab something to eat, and start home. But I still feel this guilt, so I make stops at several of my regular and semi-regular customers’. I’d been neglecting the whole delivery business for a while, or at least I feel like I had. No one has anything that needs delivery, though, so maybe my neglect is more in my imagination, like everything else.
When I get home I find Mrs. Mathews in the kitchen, which is not unusual. She’s clearly queen of the kitchen, doing all the heavy lifting as far as cooking goes. She’s like an older version of Mia, big, very dark skin, wears her hair braided and up. But hers has a bit of gray showing through. I can’t quite get used to calling her Gayle, so I stick with Mrs. Mathews, even though she’s been like a second mother in this house with two families.
She offers me something to eat. Says everyone else has eaten, and is out. Mr. Mathews is finishing some chores in the barn, my mom and the girls are out for a walk, my dad is in his room, and Clark is downstairs in our room.
It’s not until I get downstairs that I get a feeling that something is wrong. Clark sees me and says, “Oh, so you’re here.”
I can tell by his tone that he’s pissed. He’s trying to hide it, but I ask him what’s wrong.
“You’re always gone,” he says, snapping off the words. “You never know what’s going on here. I’m stuck here. I want to go with you.�
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“What? I’m here. I’ve been here a lot recently.” I have, except the last couple days. Since Rachel and I split up, I’ve been home more.
“No, you haven’t.”
“Why? What’d I miss?”
“Mom and Dad fighting.”
This is new. Not that they haven’t yelled at each other now and then. Living in close quarters in uncertain and perilous times makes for a lot of tension, and people get on edge. We all lose it once in a while. “They’ll get over it. They always do.”
“Not this time.”
“Why not? They yell all the time.”
He lies on the bed. I can hear his breathing. He finally says, “Mom said we’re moving.”
“Moving? Where?” I’d heard something like this once before. Dad got into an argument with Mr. Mathews over something to do with the farm. I heard Dad yelling that he’s not a farmer and didn’t know how to do everything perfectly and it would be better for everyone if he and his family moved into town. That was in the middle of the winter, and half the people in town were sick with the flu. So it was lucky that got patched over somehow and we never moved.
“I don’t know. Mom just said to start packing.”
“Did all this happen today?”
“No. They’ve been yelling at each other forever.”
Forever could be anything from an hour to a month for Clark. But probably longer than a day. “What’s it all about?”
“Mom thinks Dad has been fooling around.”
“What? Fooling around? That’s ridiculous. Who said that? Mom?”
“No. That’s what Claire thinks.”
Well, that makes more sense. Claire lives and dies by who’s in love with who, who’s dating who, who likes who. All that stuff. At least, that’s what she did back home, before the pulse. Now, with no social media, and no social life, basically, it’s a lot harder. I could understand if she saw an argument and assumed it was all about some love triangle. But who’d be the third in the triangle? Mrs. Mathews? She’s the only other woman around.
“When could Dad be fooling around?”
“He goes into Lafayette all the time. Maybe somebody there.”
Hmmm. That’s possible, I guess. But Dad would never do that. However, I saw Mrs. DuBonnette flirt with him, back when we first met her and Rachel. I thought it was really strange back then. I mean, come on, Dad? No, he’d never go for her. She’s not anything like Mom. Still. She is reasonably hot, for an old lady, anyway.
I now realize that Clark isn’t mad; he’s upset. That noise I hear isn’t some fighting noise, it’s him stifling his sobs. “There’s no way, Clark. I don’t care what Claire says, Mom and Dad love each other. If they’re yelling, it’s about something else. So calm down, okay. We’ll get through this. Even if we have to move. It’ll be okay.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
That’s a total lie, but what can I say? I can’t let him keep suffering like this. Neither of us will sleep at this rate. Of course, I’m pretty sure sleep is going to be hard to come by for me, anyway.
As I lay awake in the middle of the night, I can’t help but think about moving to town. It wouldn’t be so bad, really. I’d be close to Jake and the RIP guys. And Rachel. Not that Rachel would give a shit. And most of my customers are out here in and near Juniper, so I’d have to go back and forth anyway.
Of course, if we really pull off this raid on the camp to spring Wilson, things will probably change anyway. I don’t know if my route will still be possible. I might be a fugitive, like Rob, running and hiding all the time.
And then there’s the eating part. It’s been pretty nice, living on a farm with animals and a garden and crops. We were never really starved like some people. If we move to town, how will we get food? Rachel has a little garden, but they get most of their food because Rob gets some money from work. His mom brings in some money once in a while. And Wilson makes some from the bicycle shop.
Where would our family get money to buy food? I make a little, maybe enough to feed myself. Dad must get something for all the work he does on this currency and banking stuff. But Mom doesn’t get much anymore. She was a lawyer, back in the day, and worked on brokering deals for a while. But that didn’t last. Now she’s mostly just working here on the farm. Probably not too happy about that.
Maybe that’s the real argument they’re having. Kind of like Rachel and me. Rachel’s view of the future is maybe different than mine. I think more about survival, and she’s thinking about making things back the way they were before the pulse so she can have a real future.
Dad’s working in banking again. He’s good at it and he’s challenged and he’s got a purpose. Mom doesn’t. So she’s got to get things back so she can find her purpose, find the thing that challenges her.
So, what about me? Is PedEx my purpose? Is that going to be my future?
It’s really hard to think about that when I’ve got a friend going to re-education camp and another who’s a fugitive. I think I’ve got to deal with that stuff first. Mom and Dad will have to figure their stuff out themselves.
26
57 days until the Pulse Anniversary
I get up late, having not slept well at all. Clark is gone. Fortunately his sniffling ended soon after I gave him the “it’ll be okay” speech. I’m not sure that’s what did it; he may have been exhausted from having worried like that. It was unusual for him, but then these times can get to anybody, and especially when some new shock hits, like your family is breaking up, which is what he seemed to believe. I’m skeptical, but I’ll feel Mom out about it this morning.
Unfortunately, she’s not here when I get upstairs, just Dad and Mrs. Mathews in the kitchen. “Where’s Mom?” I ask.
“Gone,” says Dad.
Oh no. The bottom of my stomach sinks. Was Clark right? “Where?” I ask.
“Lafayette,” he says, very matter-of-factly.
“When will she be back?”
He looks up from the table where he’d been concentrating on some papers and says, “Why are you so interested in your mother all of a sudden?”
“I just had something I wanted to ask her.”
“So ask me.” He looks at me like he actually expects me to ask him a question. Sure, Dad, I’m going to ask if you’re sleeping with some new floozy.
“So is she coming back today?”
“No. She’ll be staying at Franci DuBonnette’s place for a while.”
Well, that takes Mrs. DuBonnette out of the running for Dad’s new flame. “Why? What’s she doing in Lafayette?” I ask, even though I figure I won’t get a straight answer.
I’m right. “That’s enough questions for one morning,” he says. “We need water and wood for the cook fire before lunch. And Clark undoubtedly needs help with the new hay bales. After that, you can join the girls in the garden. They’re weeding.”
It’s not until nearly lunch that I get even a clue about what Mom is doing in Lafayette. I’m helping the girls weed the garden—it’s a big garden—when Chrissie answers my question by saying that she thinks Mom has a new job. But she doesn’t know what, or who she’s working for. So, maybe I was on the right track in the middle of the night when I came up with the idea that Mom needed a purpose, a reason for hope.
I mention that Clark seemed upset by a lot of yelling going on, but Mia ignores me, Claire walks to the other side of the garden, and Chrissie shrugs.
So, the mystery remains. But at least I think I can rule out infidelity as a motive.
I’m thinking that I should go to Lafayette tomorrow to check on the status of the RIP mission, when it occurs to me that I can go see Mom to ask her what’s going on. Then I realize that she’s going to learn all about Wilson and Rob when she gets to the DuBonnettes’, which means she already knows. I haven’t told anyone here about any of that, because, well, just because. So if Mom and Dad are still on good terms, she’s going to tell him and stuff’s going to hit the fan, so I bette
r get Dad up to snuff before tomorrow.
After dinner the girls announce that they’re going down the road where some friends are getting together. Clark decides to join them, but I beg off because I tell them I’ve got to leave early for Lafayette. The Mathewses go to bed early—they always go to bed early—so Dad and I are alone.
I tell Dad about Wilson and Rob. I intend to give him a brief summary of my talk with Colonel Williams, but I don’t even get to that part of the story when he goes nuts. I never imagined him getting so upset over this. I figured he’d be sympathetic; he’s met Wilson and knows Rob. But he is raging and cursing almost before I can give him any of the details. He’s directing most of his anger at President Pounds, who he clearly doesn’t like, but also at Williams, who he says is about as smart as a three-legged horse is fast. I don’t like that. I’m kind of liking Williams.
Dad asks all sorts of questions, most of which I don’t have answers to. I eventually tell him I went to Williams and asked for help, but didn’t get any. That’s how I learned about the re-education camp.
He says I should go see Mom tomorrow in Lafayette. “She’s gone over to the dark side,” he says. “She’s working for the Pounds administration, doing legal work.”
“Wow,” I say. “Maybe she can get Wilson freed.”
“I doubt it. She doesn’t have anything to do with criminal law.”
“Doing what?”
“Mostly property law. Like who owns the house that the DuBonnettes are living in. Can the former owner, who apparently abandoned the property, show up and take possession again? In five years? Ten? What about the mortgage, assuming one exists and can be found? Maybe a bank actually owns the house.”
“You’re a banker. Does your bank own a bunch of houses?”
