Fourth Dimension

by Eric Walters

  “And I need to make one thing very clear,” Colonel Wayne said. “If you are attacked again we won’t be coming to your rescue. We lost men and we lost ammunition and risked our planes. That won’t happen again.”

  “How long do people have to make their decision?” Chris asked.

  “There’s no deadline,” Colonel Wayne said. “You must decide.”

  “And we’d be safe there with you?” Carol asked.

  “Nobody can make a guarantee of safety. Together we can stand against any foe we’ve seen.” He paused. “At least, any that we’ve faced so far.”

  There was something in his hesitation, a slight change in his voice that made me wonder. Were there other enemies out there that were more powerful?

  “I don’t need more time,” Chris said. “I’m going to move.”

  “You know you’re going no place without me,” Sam said.

  “Count me in too,” Garth added.

  “And you all know where I stand,” my mother said. “I am taking my family to safety.”

  “I feel like there really isn’t much choice,” Carol said, and others nodded.

  “No, there’s always a choice,” my mother said. “Come with us and live, or stay here and die.”

  32

  The last wheelbarrows came across the rickety little wooden bridge that had been thrown together to temporarily link Ward’s Island with Main Island. With the old bridge blown out it was the only way to get things over. I wondered how many loads had been taken across over the past two weeks. Probably too many to count, and there were still more to come.

  The decision to leave had been a difficult one for a lot of people. There were some who’d said they would stay—they’d lived in the community their whole lives and they were prepared to die there. Finally, though, when they’d realized that the dying part was going to come sooner rather than later—maybe in just a few days—they’d changed their minds. In the end, everybody had agreed to move, and that made it so much easier. There was no need to leave some things behind, or figure how to divide up resources, or feel bad about abandoning people.

  Everything of value was moving to the airport compound. First people and produce, food and supplies, livestock, personal things, and household goods like mattresses and furniture. Most everything was loaded onto the back of one of the three big military trucks that were part of the museum at the airport. Old trucks—antiques—worked the same way as the old airplanes.

  The livestock was brought over on the hoof. They were herded toward the little bridge, but many panicked and just swam across the channel. Gathering them back together on the other side and getting them to the airport was like an old-fashioned cattle drive. It was such a strange little herd—mainly goats, some sheep, the three cows, the zebras, and the ostriches. Ethan rode one of the ostriches like a cowboy. Somehow, for him and for some of the younger kids, it was still just a game, an adventure. They seemed blessed with short-term memory. Two weeks ago for some of them was like two years ago for others. Being younger could be a blessing.

  I climbed up onto the back of the truck as the last items were stowed aboard. I settled in on top of the load at a spot perched right over the cab, where I could see anything that might present a danger. Below at the wheel was Warrant Officer Gonsalves. I liked having the military guys around. My mother had her pistol back but I now had a rifle. Everybody leaving the compound was given a weapon that they would return when they arrived inside the safety of the wire and walls.

  The rest of the guards, who had been all around in the woods, came back to the trucks. Every trip—and it seemed like there’d been hundreds—had armed guards. The drive along Main Island took over twenty-five minutes, and we had to pass by dozens of little groups of people who were living out there, trying to survive as best they could. None seemed that big or that well-armed but each was still a danger. I always thought back to what my mother had said at the beginning: even good people get pushed by desperation. That fourth dimension in all of us was never that far from the surface. I’d seen it time and time again. I’d lived and almost died within it.

  The Mustangs were in the sky many times a day now. It was reassuring to see them, knowing they were there to protect us, watching everything, prepared to take action. Without those planes we never would have survived this long. They were the reason the attack had been beaten back, the reason we’d lived.

  Sam climbed up and took a spot beside me.

  “You’re coming with us?” I asked.

  “What—you don’t want my company?”

  “No, I just mean you’ve been staying here on Ward’s at night.”

  Sam, along with up to twenty armed guards, had been staying overnight at the houses. They certainly couldn’t stop another big attack—in fact they were under orders to run if one came—but they were there to protect the place from looting.

  “We’ll come back to scavenge more things, but almost everything anybody might want has been taken. There’s no need for anybody to guard the site.”

  The last few days had been about taking building materials. Fences, sheds, wood stoves—even some of the houses themselves were being disassembled for the wood and parts and brought over to the airport complex.

  “But won’t people move in here when there aren’t guards anymore?” I asked.

  “We expect some people to settle in, probably take over some of the houses, but we’ll come back and take what we need.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to just keep them out to begin with?”

  “It’s dangerous to keep camping out there at night. I’ll be glad to spend tonight at the airport so I can get some rest.”

  “If you really want to rest you might want to sleep outside,” I suggested. “It’s pretty noisy inside the terminal.”

  Creating housing for everybody at the airport compound was turning into a big task. It was going to take a lot of imagination, lots of materials, and even more work. Julian had figured out how to turn the terminal into subdivided living quarters, and I’d seen the plans, so I knew it could be done. In the meantime, we were sharing space with the rest of the airport community and we were all assigned small sleeping areas separated from each other by blankets and sheets strung from rope and line. It was a long way from the nice little cottage I’d been calling home for the past few months.

  I had started to think back longingly to the tent we used to sleep in, and finally, after a few nights of disturbed sleep, I’d gone and got it from where we’d stored it on the little island. We pitched it behind one of the hangars, and my mother and Ethan and I had been sleeping there. I’d slept well every night since then.

  It wasn’t the crowding that bothered me. There was lots of noise at night in the terminal. It was only to be expected with that many people in one place. Mostly it was the normal sounds of snoring and talking and coughing. That didn’t trouble me. It was the crying that I couldn’t handle. I understood it, but that didn’t make it any less gut-wrenching.

  People seemed to react to loss in two ways. Either they wanted to give up, or they wanted to dig down deeper to survive. Julian was digging down deeper. It might have been a way to honor Ken, or simply a way to be so busy that sorrow couldn’t overwhelm him.

  Summer was turning to fall but the weather was still good. The days were hot and the nights were cool but not cold. As I rode along on top of the truck, I couldn’t help but think about what would normally be happening at this time of year. The whole world would be getting ready to go back to school. New clothes, new haircut, my mother going with me to buy some new makeup, and my father taking us to get school supplies, and…I hadn’t thought about my father in a long time. What was that saying, “Out of sight, out of mind”?

  I knew he had to wonder and worry about us. I just wished I could let him know we were all right. At least as all right as anybody could be going through what we’d been going through. I knew he was okay, though. That wasn’t just me pretending or denying. He was a Marine, stationed
with a thousand or more other Marines. No matter where they were they would be there for each other. Still, I wished that place could have been here with us.

  We rumbled along the path. The trucks were old and the engines spewed out clouds of blue smoke that you could not only see but smell and taste. Not pleasant, but a lot better than walking.

  I looked back over the channel to the Ward’s community. All that remained were empty houses.

  “I’m going to miss living there,” I said.

  “It’s the only place I’ve ever lived,” Sam commented.

  “I’ve lived in nine other places.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot.”

  “I guess I’m an expert at ‘new.’ I always thought when I grew up that I’d find a place to live and never move again.”

  “Maybe the airport is the place,” Sam said.

  “I hope I don’t spend the rest of my life living at the airport.” I paused. “Do you believe that’s possible?”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  The brakes of the truck squealed and we slowed down dramatically. Just in front of us were two men standing on the path, rifles on their shoulders, arms waving us down. I felt a surge of adrenaline, and then Sam spoke.

  “It’s Johnny and Jimmie.”

  “I wonder what they want.”

  “I guess we’re about to find out.” Sam turned around and yelled out, “Everybody be aware. Weapons ready.”

  “But they’re our friends,” I said.

  “They are definitely not my friends.”

  Our truck stopped right in front of them, the other two trucks coming to a stop behind us.

  “So, Sammy, it looks like you’re leaving town,” Johnny called up.

  “We’re all leaving town, but you know that.”

  “It was a terrible thing that happened,” Jimmie said.

  “I wish we could have done more than just watched,” Johnny said. “All those men and those boats had us pretty worried that we were next.”

  “But they didn’t attack you,” Sam said.

  “We’re small potatoes. They hardly noticed us when the prize was in front of them,” Jimmie said.

  “So what do you want?” Sam asked.

  “Maybe we’re just being neighborly,” Johnny said.

  “In that case we’re going to get going.”

  “Well, there is one other thing,” Johnny said. “With Ward’s gone we’re still in need of some produce, some vegetables and other things.”

  “Well, as far as I know we don’t have anything to spare.”

  “As far as I know, nobody’s asking you for what you think you know. We need you to pass on a message to the people who actually make the decisions,” Johnny said.

  “Or maybe we should at least talk to who’s in charge of this little caravan,” Jimmie said.

  “You’re talking to that person,” Sam said. “I can pass on a message.”

  “Good for you. You’ve risen all the way from security guard at the marina to a messenger boy!”

  It was easy to see why Sam didn’t like these two.

  “We’ve noticed these trucks rolling back and forth,” Jimmie said.

  “Not to mention the planes in the sky,” Johnny added.

  “Yeah, and your point?” Sam asked.

  “Gasoline. You need gasoline, and we can arrange that.”

  I knew gas was an issue. Obviously they’d figured that out too. They were jerks but they weren’t stupid. Sam had said that.

  “And how would you two idiots get gasoline?” Sam asked.

  “Calling us names? Now that really hurts,” Johnny said.

  “Yeah, because we care so much what Sammy the messenger boy thinks,” Jimmie added.

  “Look, let’s not make this personal. We have boats. We know people who know people,” Johnny said. “You tell us how much gas you need and we’ll arrange for it.”

  “And what do you get out of being so helpful?” Sam asked.

  “A piece of the action. Think of us as real estate agents or stockbrokers.”

  “I think of you in a lot of different ways, but those aren’t the words I usually use,” Sam said.

  “Oh, I think my feelings have been hurt again,” Johnny said. “Why don’t you tell them that we offered a way to get gasoline and you turned us down and called us names instead?”

  “I’ll pass on the message,” Sam said. “Now why don’t you move to the side, or better yet, just stand there and we’ll run you over.”

  They stepped off the path and Sam yelled for the driver to start again. We started rolling.

  “You really don’t like them, do you?” I said.

  “They’re both jerks. They’re liars and thieves and cheats. Nothing that’s happened will have changed that.”

  “But do you think they can get us gas?” I asked.

  “They’ve always been big talkers.” He paused. “But you can put a hat on a pig, it’s still a pig.”

  “I see them more as snakes,” I said.

  “So do I, but I couldn’t figure out how to put a hat on a snake!”

  33

  I walked to the edge of the channel and took a seat on a large rock. It was my favorite place to be by myself—or at least as “by myself” as was possible inside the compound. There were guards on the wall and there was always a hum of activity, but right now, right here, I was almost alone.

  This was the point at which the city and the airport were closest together. There was just a narrow passage out of the harbor and into the lake. Prior to all of this happening there had apparently been talk about building a bridge or digging a tunnel to link the island to the mainland. We had to be grateful that had never taken place.

  From here I could see much more than just the buildings. Cars and trucks were infrequent but I could see them as they chugged along Lakeshore Boulevard. At night, across the water, sound traveled far. They weren’t the sounds that had kept me awake at night before—streetcars and ambulance sirens and laughter as people came home at night after the bars closed. Instead it was screaming and the occasional gunshot. How they were connected was left to my imagination.

  The sun was starting to go down. It wouldn’t be long until the city and the entire world vanished into the darkness.

  We had more contact with the city than just watching it from across the channel. The colonel arranged for scavenging trips to collect whatever could be found. And there seemed to be lots of stuff there if you knew where to look, and had the firepower to protect your people while they were collecting it. In one way you could call this a necessary action. From another point of view, how was it different from people kicking in our condo door and stealing all our stuff?

  One of those trips to the mainland was happening now and my mother was part of it. I would have asked to go along but now, under the colonel’s authority, these missions belonged almost exclusively to the adults. I was a bit upset when I’d first heard about the policy, but I was also relieved. I’d seen enough. There were worse things than being inside the wire—being outside, for one. Besides, it allowed me to just be here, to be a teenager.

  Willow and I spent a lot of time together. We’d both agreed—without saying a word—that we wouldn’t talk about that hug he’d given me. That didn’t stop me from thinking about it, though. I thought that maybe we could be more than just a guy and girl who were friends, but I wasn’t ready to take the next step. If it didn’t work out, I’d risk losing him as a friend. I couldn’t afford to risk losing anything more.

  The living arrangements had now expanded beyond the terminal itself. My family had left our tent and moved into a small space that been carved out for us in one of the hangars. I was grateful to be inside again, where we weren’t stepping on each other. As well, I’d started thinking farther ahead. It was early fall and still warm, but winter would follow. There was no reason to believe things would be better by then. Or ever.

  “Good evening.”

  I jumped sli
ghtly and snapped around.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” It was Colonel Wayne.

  “I was just lost in thought.”

  “Thought or worry?” he asked as he sat down beside me on the rock. I shuffled over to make room.

  “Both. Isn’t the scavenger party supposed to be back before dark?”

  “It’s not dark yet.”

  “So you don’t think I have anything to worry about,” I said.

  “Emma, we both know there’s more than enough to worry about out there. We also know it’s a good team with lots of experience, well-armed, with a solid plan, and they have your mother in charge as their leader. She’s a real Marine.”

  I knew what a compliment that was coming from him. She had quickly become one of the people Colonel Wayne counted on the most. Not just for leading missions, or for being a nurse, but for giving advice and for communicating things that needed to be shared with the “civilians.” Along with Lieutenant Wilson, she was who he relied on the most.

  “And remember, even more important, she’s not the only Marine here.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful.”

  There were over seventy-five people here who had military or paramilitary training. They were either members or former members of the Army or Marines, or the National Guard, or former or present police officers.

  “I know you’re a little disappointed that you aren’t being allowed to go on the away missions anymore. I just don’t want to put young people at risk any more than I have to. Besides, I have something else in mind for you.”

  I waited for him to continue.

  “With more missions being mounted outside, I’m leaving the perimeter with less defense than I’d like. I was wondering about organizing some of the older teenagers to receive formal training to be on guard duty.”

  “Sure, I’d like to be part of that.”

  “No, I don’t want you to be part of it. I want you to lead it.”

  “You want me to be the leader?”

  “Of course, all of you will be under the direction of Sergeant Miller, who’s in charge of guards, but you would be his, shall we say, lieutenant, with the teenage guards. If you’re willing, that is.”