Fourth Dimension

by Eric Walters

  “We know that none of this could have happened without Ellen. Could we give her a round of applause before I ask her to speak?” Chris said.

  The audience reacted as requested, although some were much more enthusiastic and some were only being polite. I knew how people felt. Some were glad she had been invited in. Others were indifferent or even angry. A lot of people still wanted to live in denial and didn’t realize that without my mother’s help they might not be living at all.

  “Thank you, Chris. All of these changes were done with the help of a lot of people,” my mother said. “I want to thank all of you for all your work. You’ve done everything I’ve asked.” She paused. “We now need to talk about what more still needs to be done if we want to survive.”

  There was a rumble from the crowd.

  “It’s worked so far!” somebody else called out.

  “It’s been almost two weeks since the attack,” another yelled.

  “Thirteen days. Do you think we could withstand those men if they returned?” Chris asked the audience.

  Nobody had anything to say to that.

  “We cannot forget about those bodies we had to bury,” my mother said.

  “They weren’t bodies, they were people!” somebody yelled out angrily.

  “They were people,” my mother said. “They became bodies, and there will be more if we don’t all agree to do more.”

  Yet again, Chris held up her hands and the audience was silenced. “Please let her speak.”

  I knew how important it was to have Chris standing at her side. There was a lot of resentment directed toward my mother. They didn’t like some “soldier,” some “outsider” telling people what to do and preparing the place like it was some kind of “fort.”

  “We don’t have enough weapons to protect us,” my mother said. “We don’t have the training and we don’t have the resources to turn this community into a garrison. This is the farthest thing imaginable from a military base. And that might be what saves us.”

  I could tell by the confused looks and the noise level that nobody understood what she meant. I knew what she was going to say—after all, I’d basically thought of it in the first place—but was any of it really possible?

  “First off, I think I owe many of you an apology,” my mother said.

  I hadn’t expected that. She had many strengths, but apologizing certainly wasn’t one of them.

  “I wanted you all to be soldiers when you weren’t. Instead, we need you to be who you are. We need actors, and potters, weavers, artists, and craftsmen to make our new plan work.”

  “How can an actor help?” the man who played Stanley asked.

  “Or a potter?” asked a woman potter.

  “Tonight is not the time for specifics,” Chris said, stepping forward. “For tonight, we just want you all to know that we have a new plan, one that we believe you will all be happy to play a part in. Go home, get some sleep, and tomorrow we’ll meet with each of you individually or as groups and put forward what we want from you.”

  “And if we don’t want to come to the meeting?” somebody asked.

  “Or we don’t want to do what you ask us to do?” another questioned.

  “Then Tom, and Scott,” Chris said, “you do not need to come or comply. You can feel completely free not to hear how you could be part of saving the lives of your family, friends, and neighbors.”

  I hadn’t expected her to be that blunt, and then she got blunter.

  “But our chances to survive increase with the involvement of everybody in this community. Without the help of all, I am certain that we will be facing the death of us all. Go home, go to sleep, and tomorrow we’ll talk.”

  In complete silence the crowd got to their feet and started to shuffle away. Willow came along with me as we walked to my mother and Chris.

  The remaining lights went off and we were thrown into almost complete darkness.

  “Do you think they’re even going to come to meet with you?” I asked.

  “They’re nothing if not a curious lot. They’ll come to hear what we have to say,” Chris said.

  “And will you be able to convince them to do what you’re going to ask them to do?” I asked.

  “I believe the plan needs to come from somebody other than your mother or me,” Chris said.

  “Who else is there?” Willow asked.

  She pointed first at me and then at Willow.

  “Us?” Willow gasped.

  “Why do you think they’d listen to us?”

  “First off, you two came up with this plan, so I believe it is fitting that it should be presented by its creators,” Chris said. “And second, you’ve already convinced the two of us, and Willow’s parents, so you’ll be able to convince others.”

  I looked to my mother for direction. “She’s right,” my mom said. “I think it will be more powerful coming from the two of you.”

  Willow and I exchanged a worried glance. What if we couldn’t convince them?

  20

  The next morning, Willow and I found ourselves sitting at the front of the meeting room in the community center, with my mother and Chris standing at the back. The room was filled with the actors, the set designer, the costume designer, the director, the stage manager, and the stagehands from the play. They were loud, and there was a lot of laughter and joking going on.

  I looked at my watch. “We’d better get started,” I said to Willow. We had a tight schedule for the day.

  I stood up. They didn’t seem to notice. I cleared my throat. They didn’t seem to notice that either.

  “Excuse me!” Willow said loudly, and they stopped talking.

  Now that we had their attention I had to begin.

  “Thanks for coming today,” I said.

  “It’s not like we had any place better to go,” one of the stagehands, Luke, said.

  “This is awfully early though,” the actor who had played Stanley said. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating in the daylight but he did look tired.

  “You could have scheduled us for the afternoon,” another actor said. She had played Blanche.

  “Late afternoon,” another added, and they all chuckled.

  “We wanted you first because of how important you are to the survival of this community,” I said.

  “You’re about the most important,” Willow added.

  “If we’re the most important, I’m worried,” the actor who played Stanley said. Again there was laughter.

  “He’s right, if you’re counting on this motley crew to protect us we’re all going to get much worse than bad reviews,” the play’s director said.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I said.

  “We need all of you to help,” Willow added.

  “We need you more than almost anybody else,” I continued. “That’s why we wanted to get your cooperation before we talked to the others.”

  “Look, guys, we’re mostly just actors,” someone said.

  “Very good actors,” I said, and everybody looked pleased.

  “And that’s what we need. We need you to act brave and strong,” Willow told them.

  “Last night, you had us all convinced you were a very tough, desperate guy that nobody would want to mess with,” I said to the actor who played Stanley. “And you set designers transformed a field into a tenement apartment in New Orleans.”

  “It felt like we were right there,” Willow added.

  “Thank you,” Luke said. “We could have done better in a real theatre, with more resources.”

  “But you did it anyway. And now, we need your help—all of you—to transform this island into a fortress,” I said.

  “But we just do illusion,” the set designer said.

  “Exactly! We need to create an illusion to fool people. If they see this place as a fortress then they’ll be less likely to attack,” I explained.

  “So…smoke and mirrors,” the set designer said.

  “Sometimes illusion is enough,
” I said.

  “And my father is going to help with suggestions, based on his expertise, about how to make it more than just illusion. For example, we can utilize many of the features of a real castle,” Willow explained.

  “Things like a barbican by the bridge, towers, arrow loops. We already have a moat,” I pointed out.

  “So you want us to help build a castle, is that correct?” Luke asked.

  I nodded. “Basically the façade of a castle.”

  “What about the people who make costumes, how can we help?” a woman asked.

  “We need you to produce uniforms that will make it look as if there are a hundred Marines manning our walls,” Willow said.

  “That would take a lot of fabric,” she said.

  “We’ll get you what you need,” Chris called from the back. “Would old clothes do, things that people were getting ready to give away?”

  “Yes. If you can round up enough, we can dye the fabric and reuse it. I can make you enough uniforms to dress the entire community!” she exclaimed.

  “Excellent.” I paused. “So, will we have your help?”

  There were a few seconds of silence and I held my breath.

  “It would be hard to turn down a starring role in a production this big,” the Stanley actor said. “Of course, we’ll need a director.”

  At this point the director stood up. “What am I, chopped liver?” Everyone laughed.

  “And Captain Ellen, U.S. Marine Corps, will be your technical consultant,” Chris said.

  “Then count on us. The show must go on!” Luke yelled, and the others applauded. “We’ll make this place look like a castle crossed with a military base manned by a hundred or so deadly-looking Marines, if that’s what you think will work!”

  The applause got even louder. I felt a little embarrassed…and a lot relieved.

  —

  We’d gone from meeting to meeting all day. With each successful meeting, I’d gained confidence that we could really convince people. This was our second-to-last group. In addition to the theatre folks we’d met with magicians, weavers, and woodworkers, and with writers and illustrators. This group was made up of sculptors and potters, and we asked them to make replica weapons to look like assault rifles. At first they just seemed confused, but then, like every group we met with, they agreed. They left with a lot of positive words, leaving the last group to be ushered into the room. This was going to be the hardest group to convince, and that was why we’d left them until the last.

  They were the yoga teachers, the tai chi instructors, the pacifists, and the Buddhists in the community. They were people who didn’t believe in violence, or weapons, or us needing to defend the community. They were the most vocal opponents to what had been happening.

  They took seats at the table. They were quiet, calm, almost serene.

  My mother came up beside me and bent over. “Emma, I’m going to leave.”

  I understood. She was the Marine, the one with the weapon strapped to her side.

  “We’ll try our best.”

  “It might not work. Try to get them as neutral as possible, even if they won’t help.”

  She slipped out of the room. I was pleased that Chris had stayed. She was sitting at the back of the room. This had been a long day for all of us and she was a lot older. I could only hope I was that energized at her age. Heck, I just had to hope that someday I’d live to see my eighties—or to be eighteen.

  I whispered in Willow’s ear. “You know these people, so maybe you should take the lead.” He nodded and then cleared his throat.

  “Thank you all for coming. It’s been a long day and—”

  “Actually, we’d like to make an opening statement,” one of them said, cutting him off.

  “Um, sure,” Willow said.

  “Thank you. We wish to say that we are people of peace. We cannot and will not participate in taking the life of another human being. We came to this meeting only out of respect for you and the other members of the community,” Zoe said. She was a yoga instructor, a Buddhist, and a sculptor.

  Chris spoke up now. “And you are respecting them by refusing to take part in defending them?”

  “We do not believe in—”

  “Staying alive?” Chris asked. “You have to know that if we can’t make this community stronger then we are all going to die. Everybody, including yourselves, including the children, including your children. Everybody. That’s a very strange way to show respect.”

  “That’s not fair,” another one said.

  “Perhaps you could do me a favor. Could you all please take a minute and close your eyes.”

  “What?” one of them asked.

  “I want people to close their eyes while I speak,” Chris said. “Think of it as a visualization technique.”

  I kept my eyes open while, one by one, they all closed theirs.

  “I want you to picture the bodies that we took from the streets after the attack. I want you to picture those people being brutally killed. I want you to picture the people you love and care for, your friends and your neighbors, being next. I want you to—”

  “That’s not fair,” one of them said. Eyes were opening around the table.

  “Not fair? Well then maybe you should keep your eyes open as you picture your own painful death. I want you to see—”

  Willow jumped in now. “I know we’re all tired and worried, but I think you might be getting the wrong idea here about what we’re asking from you.”

  “We need your help,” I added. “And we won’t ask you to betray your own values.”

  There was silence. Were they going to respond at all?

  “I could teach self-defense,” Fred, the tai chi teacher, said.

  “That would be wonderful.” Willow turned to Chris. “I think karate would be very beneficial for people. And Fred has his fourth-degree black belt.”

  “But what about the rest of us?” one of the women asked.

  “We need you to tend the crops, make meals, look after the children, and we’d like those of you with first aid experience to receive additional training,” I explained.

  “What sort of additional training?” a woman asked. She seemed hesitant.

  “There are going to be people hurt,” I said. “They’ll need to be cared for. You know my mother is a nurse. She will offer first aid training, specifically around gunshot wounds.”

  One woman got to her feet. “I will help save lives in any way I can.”

  A second and third also rose and offered the same commitment. One by one they rose until they all were standing. We’d done it. We’d got everybody to buy into the plan. Now we just had to pray that we were offering them more than just false hope.

  21

  The church bell rang out to signal a possible attack, and I awoke from a deep sleep and jumped to my feet. By the time I got to the ladder leading down from the loft my brother was already standing at the bottom. He was in his PJs and he looked scared. I worked hard not to have that same look.

  “Is Mom here?” he asked.

  “She left before I went to bed to check on the sentries,” I said.

  She did that every night, walking around, checking, talking, answering questions, and reassuring people. Some nights I went with her. Tonight I’d gone to bed early. Sleep and reading books were my two big escapes from reality. Sleep was sometimes hard to come by, but Mrs. Fraser’s house had more books than most libraries.

  I came down the ladder. I was already dressed and was wearing my shoes.

  “You get next door,” I said.

  According to our emergency plans, some people would head to the walls for defense while others stayed to care for children.

  He started for the door. “Ethan,” I called out, and he turned around.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know the plan if things go wrong. I know where to go if we have to go.” He hesitated. “Do you think we’ll have to go tonight?”

  I forced myself to smile at him. “This is probab
ly nothing. But if it’s a real emergency, we’ve done a lot to get ourselves ready to defend the community. I’m not worried.”

  He turned back to the door, then spun around again and threw his arms around me.

  “Please be careful,” he said. “I only have one sister and I don’t want to lose her.”

  I hugged him back tightly, then tried to lighten the mood. “You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”

  “Nope. I wouldn’t want to make Willow jealous.”

  Before I could even react he slipped out the door. Willow was just my friend, and Ethan knew it, but deep down, I had to admit to myself that I wondered if he might become more than just a friend.

  The bell tolled again, sounding even louder somehow, and I pushed thoughts of Willow away. I looked around the house, then grabbed my helmet and crossbow before leaving. I still had the bow and arrow but I’d also been one of two dozen people trained to use the crossbow. It was deadly accurate at close range and still effective up to fifty yards—well, at least for me. It was an easy weapon to use, but some of us were better at it than others. I figured all the work I’d done training with the bow and arrow had translated to the crossbow.

  People were coming out of many of the houses and cottages I passed on my way to the wall by the beach. I caught glimpses of light as doors opened, and there were small lines around windows where the black-out curtains didn’t quite fit completely. Although the bell ringing in the dark was scary-sounding, people weren’t panicked. They moved quickly and deliberately, speaking to each other in calm, low voices. We’d practiced, just like fire drills at school, so that we were all well rehearsed.

  I arrived at the beach and found a lot of people already stationed along the wall, holding real rifles, fake rifles, and real crossbows. Most of the people were wearing helmets—crafted by Willow’s father—and almost all were dressed in their “costume,” the uniform of a U.S. Marine. In the dark and in the distance they all looked real.