Accessing his directory, he scanned for Marcel’s direct line. As minister of public safety, Marcel had oversight of the RCMP. If Tessier wouldn’t budge on getting help to Laura, Marcel—
The PDA shrilled and INCOMING COMM — MIN NAT DEF flashed before him. “I’m here, Eddie.”
An automated voice said: “Please hold for Minister—” The line clicked and Eddie said: “Paul?”
“I’m here.”
“That’s a problem. GPS shows you and the constable still at your place. What is the hold up?”
“I’m waiting for Laura.” Movement made him turn. He forget to shut his right eye, but the nausea didn’t strike as hard. Eddie was right: he was getting used to it.
“I don’t understand.”
Outside, two of his neighbors squared off — pointing, leaning in, gesticulating madly. “Laura stopped downtown. She’s trying to make it home on foot.”
“From where?”
All the shapes on the right side of the map suddenly became red. “Rideau Centre.” Shapes on the left side blinked white, then disappeared.
“Paul,” Eddie said, “come on. That over an hour’s walk on a good day. You don’t have time to wait.”
Outside, the shorter of the two neighbors took a swing.
“You want me to leave her?”
In the background, someone yelled “Red status!” Eddie replied: “Oh Christ!” To Paul: “I want you to do your job.”
“I can’t leave her here.”
Others pulled the two neighbors apart. Sarah held her hands out in a “Please stop!” gesture.
“Can you reach her?”
“No, the phone—”
The crowd was taking sides. Now several were confronting others.
“Then get out of there. Laura’s in the system. If she’s found — give me a second! —she’ll be protected.”
Pain gathered in a hard knob at the front of Paul’s head. “That’s not good enough.”
“I already signed that! Good Christ, Paul!”
“Eddie, you know what we went through. I always said she’d come first. Just an hour.” He’d resigned his seat when it looked like the end. When she recovered, he’d sworn that no matter what, he’d be there for her. He’d made sure Marcel and Eddie understood that when they talked about recommending him for cabinet. For Eddie to go back on that—
“You are a cabinet minister. There are—”
The television showed a bouncing image from the back of a vehicle, the highway pouring out behind it. In the distance, blurry gray/green shapes pursued, their flags green, white and black smudges.
“Barely two weeks in a junior—”
The crowd scuffled with itself. The older, olive-skinned man fell from the melee. The black-clad girl had a fistful of Sarah’s hair, pulling her away.
“You listen to me!” Eddie interrupted. “Get this through your head: You are in cabinet. You cannot put this country at risk over one woman. I don’t care if she’s your wife! Thirty-nine million—”
“Then I resign.”
“Bullshit!”
Eddie’s exclamation a bolt of pain. Paul dug his teeth into his lower lip, literally biting back the curses he wanted to hurl. Eddie’s wife was in Vancouver, over three thousand kilometers away from the front. Who was he to tell him to leave? “Then what do I do, Eddie?”
“You do whatever I tell—” A high-pitched whine replaced Eddie’s voice.
The house shivered, glasses clinking in the cupboard.
The PDA’s screen showed it was still operating, but more than that Paul couldn’t glean from the complex read out.
Eddie’s voice— “range of their artillery!” —blasted in his right ear.
“Eddie?”
The crowd, more than twenty now, moved and thrashed like an insane beast. Peacemakers pulled combatants apart only to be sucked into another conflict. Paul had an instant to wonder why Tessier wasn’t out there when Eddie’s voice returned: “—hit!” Screaming. “Paul?” In terror. “Good Christ, we’re taking fire.” In agony. “We’re—”
Silence.
Past the shapes, maps and text Paul hadn’t been aware he’d been scanning, the image of the highway flipped, then changed to static. A terrified anchor appeared a second later.
GOVERNMENT OPERATIONS CENTER HIT BY ENEMY ARTILLERY — DO NOT APPROACH!
appeared at the center of his vision. Next,
ENEMY ARMOR ADVANCING WEST ON HIGHWAY 417.
Laura…
Still in the hall, Tessier said, “Roger that,” then appeared in the living room. “Last chance, Minister. If you’re going to stay here, fine, but I’m to escort Minister Charlebois.”
DEFENSE MINISTER LAZENBY, INT’L TRADE MINISTER GRANGE FEARED KILLED.
HIGHWAYS 417/416 WEST OF CITY AT STANDSTILL.
“Marcel … is coming—?”
“Helicopter. One’s inbound. Now or never.”
Outside, his neighbors had reached a momentary state of calm. Some were bleeding, others panting, all of them waiting. Waiting for him to do something. “What about them? Are there plans—?”
“Probably not,” Tessier replied. “But if our boys can hit back hard, there’s no need to evacuate.”
“My wife—”
“I checked. If she’s found, she’ll be evacuated.”
“But she hasn’t been—”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Lot of pieces moving right now.”
ARMOR UNITS RE-GROUPING TO ENGAGE ENEMY IN ORLEANS.
BREAK-OUT ATTACK TO SOUTH POSSIBLE.
Paul hoped Laura would understand. And forgive him. “I’m coming. Let me leave a note.”
“Make it a short one.” Tessier spoke into his radio while Paul grabbed a pen and the pad they used for shopping lists. He found he could focus on the paper despite the heads-up display superimposed over it.
Laura—
I have been evacuated out of the city. If you’ve made it home, contact
He moved into the hall, grabbed the blue binder and transcribed the names and numbers of everyone who could put her in contact with him. He continued:
I will be in touch as soon as I can. You are the best gift I could ever hope for and ever need.
Love Paul
“I’m ready.”
Tessier nodded and unslung the submachine gun. “Stay close.” He opened the front door, letting in the noise, and moved down the steps, barrel lowered.
“Paul, what’s happening?” someone shouted.
“Move away from the car!” Tessier roared. He turned to Paul. “Let’s go.”
Paul, standing at the top of the porch steps, looked into the faces of his neighbors — scared, confused, angry. Lost.
Between them and him, messages informed him Canadian units were taking heavy losses.
Smoke and exhaust fumes and burnt rubber assaulted his nose.
“Are you leaving?” someone asked.
Emily: “Tell us what’s going on.”
Smoke blotted the sky. Horns, sirens, the roar of traffic came from all directions. Sounds of the battle drifted from the east.
“Everyone keep back!” Tessier yelled. To Paul: “Minister—”
“One more second,” Paul said. Tapping his PDA, the heads-up display blinked out. To the crowd he said, “Listen, I know you’re scared. I’m scared. Laura, my wife, is out there some place. I don’t know where. But standing out here isn’t going to do you any good.”
“But where are you going?” someone asked.
A question he could answer honestly, “I don’t know.”
Another voice asked, “They’re coming, right?”
“You should get back inside. Listen to the TV or radio for what to do.
”
“But you’re leaving, right?” Angry.
Someone else yelled out, “Take me with you!”
The black-clad girl: “Yeah, get us the fuck outta here! Get busses or some shit down here—”
A pair of helicopters, skimming the rooftops, buzzed overhead.
Tessier turned to Paul, his patience gone.
“The TV and radio can tell—” Paul began.
Sarah, both hands buried in her hair: “They’re going to kill us, Paul! Like Moncton!”
Paul thought of what Eddie might say if he was there — pulling no punches, wasting no words. Not deflecting but being a leader. Paul ignored the realization that Eddie was probably dead. “Stay inside. Our troops are going to be moving through, so don’t be out here in their way. This isn’t going to be like Moncton. We got caught by surprise. We know who we’re fighting now. I’m in that fight. But I can’t fight from here on Ridgeline Crescent. I need to organize the counterattack. I need to get the Americans off their ‘neutral’ butts and in the fight. And I need to make sure we can get supplies to people who need it when the fight is over. Do you want me to stay here and hold your hand and tell you what to do? Or go kick some ass?” No one answered, but a few clapped. It made Paul feel ill.
He descended the steps.
“Make a hole,” Tessier commanded, leading Paul to the cruiser. As Paul got in, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Tessier pulled the car in a U-turn and raced down the street, dodging around the smoldering wreck. More people stood out on their lawns, watching. Waiting. The car jerked to the right onto the sidewalk, Tessier hitting the siren as they passed a line of cars waiting to get into the intersection at the end of the street, then turned right onto a side street that ended in a cul-de-sac where a Griffon helicopter waited, bright lights pulsing, rotors kicking up a cloud of grit. Getting out of the car, Paul saw a second chopper above them, circling a few meters above the rooftops. This one had weapons pylons mounted to its sides, gunners in the open doors.
Paul got out of the car and ran for the helicopter, Tessier behind him. A door in its side opened, revealing Marcel — face pale, terrified — Caroline and their two daughters, all in the weekend wear of shorts and T-shirts. A serviceman helped Paul aboard and into a seat next to Marcel. Tessier slid in next to him, his large bulk squeezing Paul against his mentor. The serviceman shut the door, helped Paul strap in and passed him a headset. Paul removed the comm-piece and put the headset on.
“Laura never made it, Paul,” Marcel said. “Is she…”
“I don’t know.” Paul grabbed the edge of his seat as the helicopter lifted off. Inertia pushed him down. “Can you find her? Tell RCMP—”
Marcel shook his head reached for his wife’s hand. “Mon dieu. I don’t know what is happening.” Eyes wide, he stared out the window, lower lip trembling. “I cannot … cannot…” His wife patted Marcel’s hand. His daughters clung to each other.
Rooftops fell away, the city spread out below them. Almost out of sight, on the horizon, distant specs raced toward each other. Larger specs circled in the air. Explosions erupted in and above the suburban neighborhood that had become a battlefield.
Laura…
She’d be on the chopper if she hadn’t stopped for him. She’d be safe. He saw her getting home, finding Emily there, telling her he’d left. The ground would be trembling by then as the enemy closed—
Paul shoved the image from his mind. Guilt and fear twisted in his guts, but he reactivated the heads-up display. Five ministers were confirmed dead and the PMO was making new assignments. Paul had work to do.
Outside, silhouettes of fighter planes raced across the sky and disappeared behind a cloud.
Grandmother’s Babies
Jonathan Saville
It’s amazing how simple things can become complicated when you don’t listen. I had been in for an eye exam and needed a prescription change. I thought the lady making the arrangements said the lenses would be made elsewhere and that she would phone me when they were ready. The part I apparently missed was that I was supposed to bring the old pair in first. Anyway, days passed and when I phoned to check out what was happening I finally got it straight and agreed to bring them in at the beginning of the next week.
The day I brought my glasses in was one of the first nice days of spring after a brutal winter that seemed to have no end. After struggling to find a parking spot in the crowded mall parking lot, I was enjoying the short walk to the entrance in the sunshine. Approaching the doors I noticed a new white Jeep picking up passengers. There were two older, Asian men in the front seats that were gesturing and laughing. They looked rather out of place in the monstrous, jacked up Jeep. They also seemed oblivious to the plump lady who was attempting to get into the vehicle without letting go of her parcels and handbag. It was pretty clear that she was not going to make it without some help, and since I was in no hurry and the sun was warm I offered my assistance.
“Can I help you grandmother?” I asked as I approached. I’m not sure why I added “grandmother,” it just seemed right.
She whipped around to face me with a speed that belied her apparent age. Initially she seemed quite stern, almost angry, but her countenance softened and she handed me her armload of bags.
“Thank you kind stranger,” she said. “This new car is too high for an old lady like me to climb into, and my husband is too busy entertaining his friend to help.” She was still struggling, so I offered my free hand and together we raised her into the seat.
“Do you make a habit of helping strangers?” she asked as I started handing in the bags I was holding.
“Not really,” I replied. “This was likely a combination of your need, a warm day, and my good mood. Are you settled in there okay?”
“I’m fine, but I have a question,” she answered. “Why did you call me ‘grandmother?’”
“I thought it would be a sign of respect,” I said hopefully.
“It is something I have wished to be for so long I forget when the longing began,” she said, looking wistfully into the distance over my shoulder. “I have many relations, but no children of my own. My niece, Shazan, has offered to bear children for me to call my grandkids, but, until today, I had not found a man to be the father. Now I believe I have.” She was looking right at me.
“Grandmother, you can’t be serious,” I stammered. “You don’t know me from Adam. I’m married and I don’t think my wife would like the idea of me making babies with your niece.”
“Do you have any children?” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken.
“I have four sons,” I replied. “But that doesn’t matter because after the last one I had a vasectomy that has held for twenty years.”
“I have relatives and friends in all sorts of medical fields,” she answered smugly. “They would find a way around that.”
Now I was getting frustrated. Start by helping an old lady and wind up shooting live ammo instead of blanks at her niece. I just didn’t want to go down that road. “I’m not interested in doing anything that would change me,” I stated in my most firm voice and I turned to walk away.
“At least tell me your name,” she called after me.
“Thomas Eberle,” I answered over my shoulder as I turned for one last look. “And I don’t want any more children.” The two in the front seat were still sharing a good story and apparently paying no attention to our conversation. I headed for the mall doors.
That night, after supper, I told Vicki about my experience with the “grandmother.”
“Don’t get your hopes up Romeo,” she kidded, “the niece is probably forty years old and two hundred pounds. Besides, you’ll have to go to all the trouble of finding yourself another wife if you get that operation reversed. I’m looking forward to some travel and fun time not some dia
per changing time.
After several days the visions of Asian grandchildren were fading fast when my cell phone rang.
“Good morning, Thomas Eberle,” I answered cheerfully.
A female responded, “Well good morning Thomas, aren’t you the sunshine of my day. This is Grandmother.”
It took a second for me to realize who was on the other end and another second to quell the temptation to hang up. “Grandmother?” I questioned, “how did you get my cell number? I suppose you have relatives working with the phone company?”
“Oh Thomas, don’t be paranoid,” she laughed. “Cell numbers are as easy to find as land lines if you know where to look. Now, do you have a few minutes to talk? I have some exciting news to share.”
Thinking I was going to be sorry for not ending this conversation right away I gave a mental sigh before asking, “What news Grandmother?”
“My uncle, a surgeon and fertility specialist at the university hospital, tells me there is a procedure that is completely safe and reversible and only takes three days to complete. They insert a temporary collector to gather the sperm your body is still producing. After enough has been collected the device is removed and you are back where you started. He likened it to drawing sap from a maple tree by driving a metal spile into the trunk. When the sap quits running, you remove the spile and the tree heals itself. Does that make sense?”
The analogy brought back the memory of large kettles of maple sap boiling away on its journey to becoming maple syrup. My family had tapped trees every spring that I could remember. However, sperm was not sap. “Grandmother—” I began, exasperated.
“And,” she ignored me, “I’ll pay you one million dollars to have the procedure done and one million more for each child that comes from the sperm we gather. And you’ll drive home from the hospital in an AMG Mercedes CL65, black on black; it’s already on its way to Edmonton.”
She paused to let her offer sink in. I knew I would be hard pressed to say no, so I did the only thing a man can do when he’s cornered; I passed the problem off to my wife. “I’ll have to talk with Vicki,” I explained humbly, “and I’m not at all sure that she will be excited.”
Tesseracts Fourteen: Strange Canadian Stories Page 15
