Storm Front

by Robert Conroy

  Then add Mayor Carter, whose suicide took days to become official. He’d lingered on for nearly a week before they finally pulled the plug on his brain-dead body. And don’t forget Wilson Craft, who wouldn’t have been on a ladder if it hadn’t snowed. Add other people who’d suffered fatal heart attacks and you had a current total of twenty-one fatalities. Quite a lot for a smallish city like Sheridan.

  Mayor Carter’s death seemed to have halted, or at least slowed, the FBI’s investigation into the construction scandal. Bench had offered to turn state’s evidence, but it then turned out he didn’t know enough about it to make it worthwhile.

  The death toll continued to rise as the snow melted. All over the snow-covered portion of the state, bodies were still emerging and after a couple of people were found in drifts, great care was taken while removing snow. Some of the workers had been caught referring to the bodies as “popsicles” and had been chastised by the media.

  Some of the bodies were those of senior citizens with dementia who’d managed to wander away from the facilities that were supposed to be caring for them. Criminal negligence charges were being considered against those responsible.

  Many others were injured by the storm. While broken bones like Maddy’s could heal fairly quickly, psychological problems did not. Traci Lawford, for instance, had left the hospital on crutches after a few weeks, but was under psychiatric care. She and her husband had moved and vowed never to return. Their house was now on the market at a bargain price. After what she’d endured, who could blame her? Mike thought the Lawfords would likely leave the Sheridan area altogether. In a follow-up interview, a haunted-looking and gaunt Traci had confided to him that she thought people were staring at her. Sadly, Mike thought she was right. Everyone in town seemed to know what horrors had gone on in the old house.

  Damaged buildings were still common sights as local contractors had been overwhelmed by the number of collapsed or damaged roofs. Nothing was quite as dramatic or tragic as the collapse of Patton Elementary or Sampson’s Super Store, but hundreds of roofs needed repair in Sheridan alone. A change in the building code was contemplated. Likewise, there was dismay that the storm sewers had been overwhelmed by the melting runoff. If a building had a basement, it had gotten a lot of water in it. Insurance companies were taking a beating, and that meant rates would rise next year. One car insurance company was contemplating suing the State of Michigan for damaging so many cars that were insured by them when the tow trucks and dozers had to move them. Life just wasn’t fair, some people complained, but no one was listening. At least the media had finally stopped referring to the damaged buildings as looking like a “war zone.” Mike hated that phrase.

  Residents of Sheridan and elsewhere had given up on having green lawns this year. As the snow was finally removed or melted, what lay beneath was brown and dead. Landscapers would get rich. The federal government had declared Michigan a disaster area, which meant low-interest financing for all the repairs would be available.

  Sampson’s Super Store was not being rebuilt. The company was filing for Chapter 11. Wal-Mart had won. Tyler Holcomb, Sampson’s heroic and hard-pressed manager, would not be around to see it. He’d been hired away by Wal-Mart to be a regional manager at just about twice his pay at Sampson’s. He deserved it, Mike thought. There was a hell of a lot of stress at Wal-Mart, but the consensus was that Holcomb could handle it.

  In the midst of the tragedies, it seemed almost trivial that the governor was going to marry some local weatherman from TV6. At least someone gets to get married, Mike thought.

  Maddy had told him that she looked forward to life being normal, whatever that was. She said she would never complain about parent-teacher conferences or lesson plans. Mike thought that vow would last about two weeks.

  Mike turned down the street that led to Maddy’s condo. It still seemed strange to see parts of brown lawns. Despite steadily rising temperatures, the snow had been a long time disappearing. The schools and stores hadn’t fully opened for more than two weeks after the storm stopped as mountains of snow were removed to make new mountains of snow out in fields and parks. A couple of radio stations had run contests regarding when the last snow would disappear from such and such a place. One station offered an Antarctic cruise for two as first prize and tens of thousands had entered. Another station had a “Mow the Snow” contest when the piles hung around too long. Contestants painted their snow green and decorated the piles with deck chairs and other paraphernalia and pretended it wasn’t there. Some environmentalists put pressure on the station to stop the contest because the paint would damage the soil when the snow finally melted.

  The roads were eventually brought back to normal and the flooded basements were ultimately drying out.

  A quarter of a million cars had been abandoned in the metropolitan area, and many still hadn’t been picked up by owners who probably hoped insurance would pay more than they were worth.

  Good luck, Mike thought.

  Mike pulled into the driveway. There were no other cars to share it with. Maddy’s roommates had moved out and Mike wasn’t sure why. He did know that Maddy couldn’t afford the place too much longer on her own. Maybe she would move in with him? Maybe he could move in with her? Either way struck him as a winner.

  Although he had a key, he knocked to announce his presence before using it. Everybody needed their privacy. He opened the door when he heard Maddy’s voice telling him to come in.

  She was seated on an overstuffed chair and wore a long white robe. Mike idly wondered what she was wearing underneath it. Automatically, he removed his gun and holster from his ankle and put them in a drawer.

  Maddy had pulled up the sleeve of her robe and was staring at her left forearm. It was pale and withered where the cast had been and there was a raw scar where she’d been stitched. It turned out that the break was more serious than originally thought. An infection had set in and she’d required surgery.

  “This is horrible,” she said, staring at the prune-like white flesh. She’d had it removed earlier that day. Mike had offered to go to the doctor with her, but Donna Harris had taken her instead.

  Mike silently agreed that her arm looked like hell, but said nothing of the sort. “It’ll be all right in a short while. You’ll never know it happened.”

  “No, Mike, I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

  “That’s not quite what I meant,” he said, getting them each a drink, Chardonnay for her, and Heineken for him.

  She stared at the offending arm. “I’ll never be able to play the piano again.”

  Mike laughed. “You never did play the piano.”

  She took the wine and smiled. “I was hoping for some sympathy. Tell me,” she said looking around the room, “do you miss my roomies?”

  “Not at all,” he answered truthfully. Even though they’d been alone on several occasions, there had been nothing like the sexual close encounter-near miss they’d had the night before the great storm. Even the few stolen hours after getting her arm fixed resulted in exhausted sleep. It was as if Maddy was holding back and still trying to sort things out.

  “I’ve been a bitch, haven’t I?” Maddy asked.

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind,” he answered with an attempt at tact.

  “I know and I appreciate your trying to be polite. It’s taken a while to think things out and figure out what I really want. Watching people get hurt and die helps put a whole new focus on what is and isn’t important.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mike said. He’d been bothered by nightmares and cold sweats after shooting Tower and Raines and later seeing Maddy hurt. Sometimes a strange noise would startle him and cause him to jump. It was tapering off, but he knew it would be a long time before the reaction totally went away, if ever. He’d talked to a much older cousin who’d been in combat in Vietnam, and some other guys who’d been in Desert Storm along with Afghanistan and Iraq, and they all felt the same way. It would never totally go away.

  A co
nversation with DiMona had helped put it in perspective. “Get your head out of your ass, Mikey. You saved Petkowski’s life and probably that Lawford woman’s as well. And don’t forget the people those dirtbags were going to kill in the future. Sometimes you have to kill, Mikey. That’s why you carry a gun, or did you think it was for show and tell? Did you know I killed a little kid in Iraq?”

  Mike hadn’t. He hadn’t even known DiMona was in that war.

  “Yeah,” DiMona had continued. “I was a young private and scared shitless and this kid runs up with what looked like a gun in his hand. I yelled at him to stop, but he didn’t, so I killed him, almost blew him in half. Know what? He didn’t have a gun.”

  “That’s awful,” Mike said.

  “Yeah,” DiMona continued. “It was a grenade instead. Dumb fuck hadn’t pulled the pin, though. I guess they hadn’t read the instruction manual. Anyhow, he’s dead and I’m not. Just like Tower and Raines are dead and you’re not. If you hadn’t killed them, they might have killed you. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and deal with it.”

  Time would help, but what had happened would forever be a part of Mike’s life. And Maddy’s. He’d shared his thoughts with her and she’d reciprocated. It was good knowing that they could confide in each other.

  Maddy stood and faced him. For a while she’d lost a lot of weight and he’d been worried. She’d seen both death and people hurt in a school, a place that was supposed to be a sanctuary, and that was traumatic. But lately she’d managed to work her way through her own demons and had regained both her appetite and her normal looks. He liked normal.

  “Like I said, I had a lot of decisions to reach, and I’ve made most of them.”

  “Do they involve me?” Mike asked tentatively.

  “Follow me,” she ordered. When he hesitated, she took him by the hand and led him to the bathroom. The overlarge tub was half full and steaming.

  “I’ll bet you’ve had a few fantasies involving this,” Maddy said with a smile.

  “Just a few,” Mike replied in an understatement. Actually, there’d been scores.

  “Well, so have I.”

  Maddy undid her robe and stepped out of it. She was naked and Mike breathlessly thought that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Michael, I will marry you if you promise to never call me your ‘soul mate.’ I hate that term. It’s so banal. Not even teenagers use it anymore. Just keep telling me that you love me.”

  “Promised,” Mike said huskily. “Is it warm in here, or is it just me?”

  Maddy slid into the tub and stretched herself out. “If you’re going to be my husband and claim privileges, you have to earn them. Get me my wine, please.” He did as requested and somehow managed not to spill any, although his hands shook. He was fascinated by the way her breasts seemed to float in the churning water, and he let his eyes wander to the pale thatch of hair between her thighs.

  She smiled invitingly, lovingly. “Now take off your clothes and get in here.”

  “It’ll be a tight fit.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  * * *

  Wally could just see the headlines. “Weatherman and the Gov caught canoodling in the Caribbean.” He wouldn’t care. In fact, he’d be proud to be caught canoodling with the lovely Lauren Landsman. But Lauren would. So that was why they were at her sister’s house a few miles away from Lansing. Their relationship had renewed and rekindled with astonishing speed. Soon it was like they’d never shut it down for several decades. Wally thanked the late Ellen for keeping them in touch. He sometimes thought she’d planned it this way all along. Maybe she was watching them now and was smiling. Wally wasn’t particularly religious, but he liked the thought.

  The first time they made love, Lauren insisted on keeping the lights off, saying that she wasn’t ready for him to see her older body and compare it with the younger version. He told her he felt the same way. Fortunately, they both quickly got over that silly hang-up.

  He reached across the bed and took her hand. “Will it be the Senate then?”

  “Yep, and I’m going to kick everyone’s ass. I’m not going to let a silly law about term limits derail my political career just when it’s heating up. A couple of total nobodies are going to be running against me in the primary and the Senate incumbent is in his eighties and on the verge of being declared mentally incompetent. He even tried to block emergency federal aid to his own state. He’s going down. The Savior of Michigan is going to trample him.”

  Wally laughed. The title had been pinned on her by one of the major newspapers and had stuck. She had gotten a reputation, well deserved, for working tirelessly to clear the storm area and to bring relief to the inhabitants. She would be unbeatable. As for himself, he’d gotten an Emmy for his wall-to-wall reporting. Now he was brought in by the major networks as a guest expert.

  “Then I will have to go with you as your official Weather Wizard.”

  She laughed and rolled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Sounds like a plan, O Wizard. Do you think you could wave your magic wand one more time?”