“You’ll have to ask them.”
“Come on, you were the ones spying on us. Right?” I tried to lift my arm to point an accusing finger at James, but the IV tube would not reach that far.
“We’re not supposed to spy on our own citizens. It says so somewhere in one of our manuals. Maybe the city was just curious about your activities. You were having secret meetings at your house.”
“How did you know that?”
“Oh, I believe that some city official mentioned it.”
“Some city official?” I huffed.
James stopped, pulled in his lanky legs, and stood up. “Listen. Sure, some of your city leaders displayed few behavioral oddities. I mean, they’re just normal people. They were probably playing too loose with the facts.”
“You mean they were lying to us,” I said.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Lying is such a nasty word,” James replied.
“You must have some agenda here. You must know what really happened. I mean Hemet resembled the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution.”
“Never liked history,” he said briskly.
“Well. You might not have an interest in history, but someday history might take an interest in you,” I suggested angrily.
“Okay,” James quickly stood up.” I think I have all the facts I need.” He stopped writing, studied his wristwatch, and set down his clipboard.
With those few vague and hazy words, my initial debriefing was over. It was unsweet, short, and a waste of time. There were more debriefings in later days, but the flow of information mostly flooded one way. They continued to asked me stupid questions, which inspired me to give stupid replies. I had a distinct feeling that they did not know what had actually happened. They were just speculating on the causes, just as clueless as the next guy. Of course, I told them my theories. They nodded and appeared unimpressed, but I suspected they could not fully comprehend the bigger picture. After all, they were in positions of power, they were our leaders, and they were part of the government. Which meant that they were both out of touch with reality and powerful enough to forget any lessons learned.
I felt betrayed. This injustice forced me to write down my experiences. I did it in a diary format, trying to remember the exact timeline and all of the details. I did not want to forget what happened. I felt it was my duty to recall and record what really transpired in Hemet. My experience just might help somebody in the future. The truth of our profound experience needed to be told––even if nobody would listen.
* * * * *
The six of us, which included our newcomer Cliff, were relocated to a quiet town in Central California, far away from Hemet, battlefields, and crazy city councilmembers. The military arranged the rental of a large old house in the central part of Salinas. Along with housing came offers of high-paying jobs in the city government. I laughed. They were serious.
Actually, the house was an old two-story Victorian-style dwelling with many bedrooms, a large cellar, and a white picket fence. Every one of us decided to live in the same house for a while and later figure out what to do with our lives. I had no qualms about living with Tommy or Lenny, just not Rant. But I was trying to persuade myself to embrace a “live and let live” attitude, considering what we had gone through.
Our neighbors were friendly and hospitable. They loved to chat and pry into our past lives with hungry ears and little magnifying glasses. One such resident, a retired army officer, Earl Winston, was impressed that we had lived in Hemet. He had heard many stories about Hemet and the evacuation of its residents, as well as residents of neighboring cities. The official report in the news media blamed the incident on a massive natural gas leak from unknown origins. Apparently, the release of gas was a natural phenomenon, caused by a series of small earthquakes. Other sources, the more conspiratorial ones, reported that a nasty virus has ravaged the area with mind-altering afflictions. One report contended that military forces had successfully stopped a possible pandemic. My neighbor wanted to know the truth. I said I wanted that, too.
“I lived in Hemet most of my life,” I told Earl a few days after we moved into our new house. I simply told him I was under orders by federal agents not to discuss the incident. That was not exactly true, but I did not want to relive the experience. Of course, my answer made Earl even more determined to uncover every gory detail.
“You must be able to say something about your exploits?” Earl asked.
“Nothing was very exciting.” I was not going to tell him what I had witnessed. At first, Earl seemed unimpressed but soon developed a thirst for every tidbit of gossip.
“I heard you were right in the middle of the battle,” Earl said, starting to badger me.
“Sure, but I saw very little,” I said. I was getting better at lying. He seemed to believe me. Maybe I should run for some elected office.
“Well.” Earl glared at me. “What I heard was rather disturbing and strange.”
“I mean, we did run into a few difficult situations,” I said, still trying to keep everything as secret at possible.
Lenny joined us in the front yard. “Yes, was very bad.”
“I’m sure we will enjoy this neighborhood,” Sarah said as she walked up and kissed me on the neck, a little reminder that the Dodgers game was going to start soon. She now watched baseball games with me. What a hoot.
“Newlyweds?” Earl asked.
Sarah nodded. “You might say that.”
I just smiled. We were on the right track this time around. We actually had something in common. We had barely survived an ordeal that few Americans would ever experience. We cheated death together. Now that was a romantic adventure to tell our grandchildren.
“What part of Hemet did you live in?” Earl was getting rather nosy.
“Near downtown. Been there since childhood,” I said, engaging in yet another falsehood.
“Heard the whole town has been quarantined because of some possible contaminants.”
I nodded. The city was contaminated all right. It was full of power-hungry potentates and Machiavellian clowns with explosive tempers.
“What kind of contaminants?” Tommy asked as he joined our merry band of survivors.
“Not sure.” Earl rubbed his forehead. “They didn’t say much on the regular news. You have to go to alternative news sites to get the full details of the incident.”
“News, all lies.” Lenny unwrapped a Clark Bar and took a bite. “Like Pravda newspaper back home. Never told truth.”
“Yeah,” Earl said. “I suppose you cannot believe what they say anymore.” In a flash, he trained his eyes on Lenny’s candy bar. “You know that is very sugary, very unhealthy.”
“Haven’t eaten all day,” Lenny said as he held it up. “Light snack.”
“You’re a Russky, aren’t you? Don’t they teach Russian kids that sugar is bad for your health?” Earl snatched the candy bar right out of Lenny’s hand, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it. “Refined sugar is just so, so bad. It will kill you.”
“You can’t do that!” Lenny exploded with a burst of rage. “You owe me another one!”
Earl smiled. “You will thank me one day when sugar is banned. Everyone will be better off. You’ll see.”
We all froze.
“You know, I think I will see the mayor about this. You can’t imagine how much our health would improve if sugar was prohibited,” Earl declared with a sense of accomplishment.
I stepped back. This could not be happening again. Earl must have seen the horror in my face.
“Well, maybe that is going a little too far, but I bet refined sugar will no longer be allowed on supermarket shelves. Just a matter of time.”
Earl stood there with a stern face, oblivious to what he had done. He flatly refused to reimburse Lenny or provide the tiniest of apologies. Earl began to boast about how he would one day banish sugar and save all of humanity. He said his anti-sugar campaign would rate as the next great civil rights movemen
t.
As Earl dreamed of glory, Lenny circled around his scattered and crushed candy bar. He bent over and attempted to retrieve the flattened chunks of candy. We discreetly held him back.
“We understand the problems of white refined sugar,” I said softly, “but we’re not children. We have to make those decisions for ourselves, good or bad. Right?”
“People are too stupid to know what’s good for them,” Earl declared matter-of-factly. “That’s why we must protect our citizens from engaging in bad lifestyles.”
“Isn’t that for us to decide?” I suggested.
With a sour face, Earl shook his head with a smirk that faded into a caustic frown.
“Well,” I said politely. “I have to get to my Dodgers game.”
“Hey! Wait!” Earl tapped my forearm lightly, “I almost forgot. Why don’t you all come over for a block party tomorrow night? Half the neighborhood will be there. And there will be plenty of chow, desserts, and cold beer.”
“Sure.” I graciously accepted the invitation.
“Great.” Earl seemed pleased.
We headed back to the house to watch the Dodgers game. I glanced back and saw Earl still standing on the sidewalk. He was staring down at the broken candy bar. He lifted his foot and repeatedly crushed it with his heel. I could see his face swelling with anger as he ground it down into the concrete.
From that moment on, I knew that our stay in Salinas would be temporary. I now knew that part of THEM was inside us all. We are them. They are us. But how far will it go? How far will THEY take it? Where will it end? I guessed that would never be up to me again.
--END--
We Are Them Page 29
