by Bobby Akart
After Echo and Ryan set out the alcohol and mixers, the Cortlands arrived. Ryan provided them a quick tour of Haven House while Blair got Hannah settled in with videos and games. Hannah immediately asked whether Skylar was coming, and Blair responded that her dad was invited, so naturally Skylar was as well.
The three couples were hanging out by the fire when Delta arrived alone. They encouraged him to fetch his children, but he declined, saying they were most likely tired from a full day of activities around the Haven.
The conversation turned to events around the country, and everyone was sharing their opinions as more guests arrived. Ryan greeted Tom and Donna Shelton at the front door. He started by giving Donna a hug.
“You guys have been through a lot,” said Ryan, feeling genuine compassion for the retired couple. His mother and father had been frequent travelers, unafraid to tackle any challenges associated with visiting unique destinations around the world.
His mom had been born in Berlin, Germany, and grew up there during World War II. She’d experienced firsthand what the collapse of a nation looked like. Moreover, his mom had known hunger, fear, and isolation. She’d become a survivor during those difficult years as a young girl, foraging for food while avoiding the demented clutches of Russian soldiers as they invaded Berlin. Ryan was grateful to his mom for passing on those survival genes to him.
Donna chuckled as she removed her coat. “Going to New York and Times Square had always been a dream of mine. Tom indulged me and tried to make it a trip of a lifetime. I could’ve done without the theatrics, however.”
Tom laughed and joined his wife. He accepted a hug and gave her a peck on the cheek in return. They were every bit in love today as the day they were married.
Tom began to remove his coat as Meredith approached to meet them. Ryan made the introductions. “I’d like you to meet Commander Tom Shelton and his wife, Donna. They’re from Charleston, but they took a roundabout way of getting here, am I right, Tom?”
The older man laughed. “Boy, that’s an understatement. Over the river and through the woods doesn’t begin to describe the route we took to get here.”
He extended his hand to shake Meredith’s. Instead, she moved in to hug them both. “I’m a hugger, if that’s okay.”
Donna smiled and a tear appeared on her cheek as she accepted the hug. “Of course, dear.”
“Donna, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep—”
Donna patted her on the cheek and shook her head from side to side. “No, it’s fine. It’s just. Well, we’ve got two daughters your age and I worry for them. They’re in the military and I’m sure they’re safe, but, well, you know.” Her voice trailed off.
“I totally understand, Donna. And you’re right, I’m sure they’re safe, and most importantly, I bet they’re relieved that their parents have found a safe haven as well.”
“Meredith, did you make this nice woman cry?” asked Cort laughingly as he approached the group with a glass of wine.
“No, silly man,” replied Meredith. “I guess, um, we were just having a moment, right, Donna?”
Donna laughed, wiped off her wet cheeks, and hugged Meredith again.
Cort moved closer and shook hands with Tom. “I’m Michael Cortland, but my friends call me Cort.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Cort. I’m Tom and this—”
Tom Shelton froze. A chill ran up his spine and he began to blink rapidly. Everyone noticed his sudden change in demeanor, and Donna let go of Meredith to reach for her husband.
“Dear, are you okay? Tom?”
Tom forcibly shook his body. His eyes darted from Ryan to Cort and then over to Meredith. He returned his attention to Cort. “Son, I’m sorry. Did you say your name is Cortland?”
“Yes, sir.”
He and Donna exchanged knowing glances as the light bulb went off in her head as well. Tom addressed Meredith. “And you’re Meredith? Meredith Cortland?”
A look of bewilderment overcame Meredith. “Um, yes. Cort and I’ve been married for nearly ten years.”
Tom patted his jacket and reached inside to confirm the envelope was still there. He turned to Ryan. “Is there a place where I might have some privacy with these folks?”
Ryan shrugged. “Sure. You can use my study. Tom, is there something I can help you with?”
Tom furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. “No. Not just yet. I just need a quick moment with the Cortlands, and then we’ll speak with you if they deem it appropriate.”
Meredith looked at Cort and then said, “Tom, I’m sorry, but what’s going on? This is all so mysterious.”
Ryan took the lead and answered for Tom. “Let me show you guys some privacy where you can talk. Take as long as you need and then come out when you’re ready. Dinner can wait for a little while.”
He escorted the group into his study and excused himself, gently closing the door as he backed out. Once they were alone, Tom pulled the envelope out of his pocket and fumbled with it nervously. Before he turned it over, he took a moment to explain. “I take it you both know George Trowbridge.”
Meredith and Cort looked at one another. “Yes, of course. He’s my father.”
Tom handed her the letter. “I have known your father for many years. Our relationship was, well, out of the ordinary. Let’s leave it at that.”
“He has a lot of business associates like that,” said Meredith. She turned the envelope over and over again in her hands. “He gave you this? To give to me?”
“Yes. When we evacuated from the city, we had several options that would get us to an airport that was still open. New Haven was one of those options. I’d been to your home on one other occasion, many years ago. I took a chance that your father was there and would agree to help us get back to Charleston, or here. He was very accommodating.”
Donna interjected, “He booked us passage on a nuclear submarine. Can you imagine?”
Cort grinned. “Yes, actually we can.”
“Anyway, just as we were about to leave his bedside, he handed me this envelope. He didn’t tell me who you were or how I would even cross paths with you. Yet here we are. Standing across from one another.”
“My father has a way of knowing things, I suppose,” said Meredith, who still appeared to be stunned by the developments. She looked to Donna for support. “You were at his bedside?”
Donna picked up on the fact that Meredith might not be fully informed of her father’s medical condition. “Yes, but keep in mind, we arrived unannounced. He looked well and seemed to be getting excellent care.”
All Meredith could do was nod her head as she studied the envelope. She picked at the sealed flap with her thumbnail as an inner debate raged within her. She’d quarreled with her father far too often. Most times, she regretted their exchanges, as a stubborn old man who claimed he only wanted the best for his daughter butted heads with a young woman desperately trying to find her own way with the man she loved. Meredith was completely unaware of the fact that Cort had a close, secretive relationship with Trowbridge.
She looked at Cort. “Should I open it now?”
Tom offered to leave and made his way toward the door. “Donna, let’s step out and give them some privacy.”
Meredith quickly stopped him. “No. I mean, please stay. Obviously, my father held you in high enough regard to trust you with this letter. Plus, we both might have more questions regarding his, um, health.”
Tom nodded and returned to Cort’s side. He patted the younger, much taller man on the back to offer his encouragement. “We’re here for you both.”
Meredith carefully opened the envelope and retrieved the two-page letter. As she read, tears streamed out of her eyes and she fought back sniffles. She finished reading the letter and handed it to Cort, who quickly glanced at it.
Donna broke the silence. “I hope this isn’t bad news.”
Meredith shook her head. “No, it’s actually a very sweet letter. I love my daddy and always will. He
just has a way. Well, you know.”
Tom chuckled, and he reached out to take Meredith’s hands. “Listen, young lady. I’m a retired Naval commander. I treated my daughters as if they were under my command more times than I care to remember. But, at the end of the day, we’re still a loving family. It’s that love that pushes all those Commander Shelton moments out of their memories.”
Meredith nodded and smiled. The waterworks turned from sadness to tears of joy. “I can see why he wrote the last paragraph.”
“What did it say, dear?” asked Donna.
“It read that we can absolutely trust Tom Shelton, but no one else.”
Chapter 47
Haven House
The Haven
The Sheltons and Cortlands emerged from Ryan’s study in a jovial mood. Their timing was perfect, as Blair and Charlotte had begun bringing food from the kitchen for a family-style dinner of beans, rice, and ground beef. Mundane as the options might sound, Blair had had the foresight to include a variety of sauces, spices, and toppings to make the post-collapse staples tasty.
Hannah was enjoying a Disney movie from Blair’s extensive collection, settled in on the sofa with Chubby and The Roo. She’d promised the girls that tomorrow she’d be back with Handsome Dan so the three English bulldogs could have a playdate. Hannah was impressed with the number of toys the girls had from their favorite online store—Bark Shop. Even Hannah recognized that the pups were spoiled with every imaginable toy.
Ryan approached Tom and Cort briefly before everyone took a seat, and confirmed that all was well. They promised to fill him in on the details after dinner. In fact, the brief conversation led to a promise to have daily meetings between the three as they fostered the residents of the Haven through a post-collapse world.
“Kudos to the chef,” exclaimed Delta, who was the only guest without a partner. He’d become accustomed to dining alone since his divorce, and this was the first family-style meal he’d had. “I never thought beans and rice could taste so good.”
“How’d you fix yours?” asked Blair.
Delta finished his generous spoonful and picked up a thirty-ounce jar of red sweet pepper relish. He turned the jar so everyone could view the label. “I used this relish. It’s made by the Amish.”
“That’s good stuff,” added Ryan. “We bought a couple of dozen cases of it when we took a trip to Sarasota before moving here. I think we’ve got enough to last several years.”
“Not with Delta around,” joked Blair as Delta scooped another tablespoon into his bowl.
Everyone had a good laugh and continued their conversation, which turned to media reports from Richmond.
“Tom, you were in the middle of the melee,” began Ryan. “Do you think it was orchestrated or spontaneous like the news reports are saying?”
“I have to say orchestrated,” he replied. “It’s almost as if they had a plan of attack. Their first goal was to stop traffic, and they did so by assaulting the vehicles from the bridge overpass. Once vehicles were neutralized, dozens of thugs came out of nowhere to attack cars and motorists.”
“Were they protestors?” asked Meredith. “I mean, what could they possibly hope to accomplish?”
Tom furrowed his brow and shook his head. “No, they weren’t protestors as the media has portrayed them. They had a goal and that was to hurt, or even kill, people indiscriminately.”
“Interesting choice of words,” said Delta. “Indiscriminately.”
Tom shrugged, then explained. “Certainly not intentionally, Delta. However, it fits. In today’s age, our polarized society seems to be divided by race in many instances. While the people in the mob that attacked our cars were predominately black, there were whites in the group too. Moreover, at least from our limited perspective, the motorists being attacked were from all races and walks of life.”
Delta shrugged and muttered, “That’s indiscriminate.”
Meredith added what she’d picked up on from news reports in Charlotte. “The media is blaming the president and his supporters for creating a climate of rage and hate. Basically, they’re excusing the actions of the mobs in Richmond as being frustrated students and disadvantaged residents who decided to take out their anger on anyone in their path.”
Ryan took a deep breath and gave his opinion. “That’s predictable, and we all see the media’s agenda coming out. Let’s be honest, a lot of Americans have had a lot to be angry about for a long time. Blacks struggled for a long time to get their freedom and continue to struggle for equality and opportunity. There are also working-class Americans who feel like a mouse on a wheel, living paycheck to paycheck, hoping for a better economic opportunity at some point.”
“These issues have been ongoing for half a century,” interjected Cort. “The point, at least from my perspective, is that the anger started many decades before the president was elected. It dates back to the sixties and the civil rights movement and the Vietnam War.”
“Exactly,” added Ryan. “I’m comfortable in saying this, however. Over the last dozen years, an us-versus-them narrative has risen to the forefront. Name-calling—including the labels racist, misogynist, dregs of society, and deplorables—is far too common. Eventually, when a large group of any people, especially proud Americans, continue to be called names and be disparaged by the media, whether it be news or entertainment, then hostilities can boil over.”
Echo sat up in his chair and pushed his plate forward. “Ryan, are you saying that all of this social unrest is partly our side’s fault? And listen, by our side, I’m referring to conservatives. I make no bones about where I stand politically.”
“You and I’ve had this conversation before,” Ryan began his reply. “To an extent, there’s plenty of blame to go around. I’ve been warning for years, albeit privately, that if the rhetoric and rancor didn’t get tamped down, we’d end up shooting at each other.”
“But that’s not our fault,” said Echo.
Ryan took a deep breath. “Okay, let me tell you a story.”
Blair groaned. “Here we go. We’re about to get one of Ryan’s famous analogies or theories.”
Most of the group chuckled, but both Delta and Echo were intently listening to Ryan.
Ryan squeezed his wife’s hand and smiled. “You’ll survive. For the benefit of our new friends, I have a habit of making analogies so that they are relatable. Let me give you this example. How many of you have seen the Stephen King movie Needful Things?”
Everyone raised their hand.
“Okay, good. Now, you know there is this evil guy, Leland Gaunt, who shows up in this small town, Castle Rock, in Maine, of course, and opens up a shop. He calls it Needful Things. But Gaunt is more than a shop owner. He’s the devil incarnate. Now, he knows what makes the people of Castle Rock tick. He knows what they’re hiding, what their fears are, and how to stir up their angers.”
“Yeah, my favorite scene was where the kid was throwing chicken poop and mud on crazy Wilma’s sheets,” said Charlotte before continuing, “I would’ve taken a switch to that boy if I caught up with him.”
“See, that’s the point,” said Ryan, who had command of the room. “Wilma didn’t know it was young Brian who ruined her sheets. She thought it was Nettie. Gaunt played those two against each other to the point a crazed Wilma and a grief-stricken Nettie duked it out in the middle of the street with a knife and a meat cleaver.”
“Gaunt pitted everyone against each other by playing on their emotions,” interjected Cort.
Ryan smiled and nodded. “The same thing has been happening in America for decades. One side of the political spectrum has effectively convinced their constituents that our side is full of racists, misogynists, and is guilty of every ism created in the social-justice-warrior handbook.”
“But we’re not saints either,” added Blair.
“I agree. Our side has convinced us that everything related to government is bad. Washington is out to get us so that all of our tax dollars can be squander
ed on social programs and freeloaders and illegal aliens.”
Echo agreed. “I have to say it’s hard to argue with that. All I’ve ever heard from people who think like me is that the government needs to get out of our lives and the downtrodden need to get a job.”
“Here’s what I’m saying,” continued Ryan. “Many of us have lost the ability to step back and look at the situation from an independent, detached perspective. Why? Because the media and politicians, the real-life Leland Gaunts, keep us stirred up in a fit of anger against the other side. That’s called polarization, and we haven’t experienced levels of division this great since the sixties. Both the 1960s and the 1860s.”
The group grew quiet as they allowed Ryan’s words to soak in.
“That’s an interesting analogy to the Civil War,” said Delta, breaking the silence. “Do you think our country is headed toward a second civil war?”
Echo started laughing and then apologized for his outburst. “Trust me, Ryan and I have discussed this topic since the day we met. I say yes. He says no.”
Ryan smiled and pushed his chair away from the table slightly so he could cross his legs. “I can imagine that conversations like this were had around dinner tables over drinks in places like Washington, Georgia, or Charleston, South Carolina, in the late 1850s. Gentlemen, plantation owners, and slaveholders all vowed that the North could never be allowed to force their Yankee ways on the gentile Southerners.”
“I’m a Yankee.” Delta laughed. “Pennsylvania born and raised.”
Ryan pointed at Delta. “Again, his statement will help make my point. In the eighteen hundreds, America was divided culturally by geography and economics. The South was primarily agricultural, requiring large amounts of inexpensive labor to tend to crops and cotton. The North was primarily industrial, requiring machinery and more skilled workers to work in the factories or coal mines.
“Make no mistake, slavery was a horrible practice and needed to be abolished. But Northerners had their own form of slave labor, too. The men they sent into those unsafe coal mines and unregulated industrial manufacturing plants were paid, and they were free, but they were put at great risk. History has shown that more people died in the industrialized North, working a regular job, than slaves died in the fields of Southern plantations. That doesn’t make slavery good, but it adds context to the struggle for equality.”
