by Amos Talshir
Charlie woke up, brought Simon’s body up against his own and lay down over him, shoving his son’s lanky body under his feet and those of their neighbors, Veronica and Clebber. An all-encompassing chaos broke out in the stands. The fans had learned that any unwanted motion on their part would direct the red dot of light toward their heads. A hundred thousand people remained sitting in terror in their seats in the utter darkness that had closed over them. Veronica screamed in fright. Clebber tried to soothe her with tentative stroking.
“Sweetie, you weren’t hurt, were you?” Charlie whispered into Simon’s ear, mashed into his face.
“Why would I be hurt?”
“You went down before we all felt what was going on. I thought you’d been shot.” Charlie buried his lips in Simon’s shaven scalp and kissed him, moved.
“Dad, you’re heavy.”
“Why did you get down before everyone else?”
“Because I saw it happening. I’ll tell you later. You’re not going to believe it.”
“I’ll believe you. I’ve learned I should believe you.”
The snipers’ red dots disappeared. The audience members calmed down in their seats. All of them had already learned this lesson: don’t do anything to disrupt their established order, as no warnings would be given. The noise of the helicopter’s propeller was deafening. A bright beam of light marked out its expected landing path. It crossed the observable patch of sky over the stadium and the beam of light emitted from its undercarriage alighted upon the sharpshooter’s hanging body. The helicopter hovered in the air above him, dangling down ropes. The wounded sharpshooter, in his black uniform, shimmered in the light of the helicopter’s beam. Simon directed his telephoto camera toward the sharpshooter’s illuminated body. He was secured to the ropes by the warriors who shimmied down from the roof on cables and began to be pulled up into the belly of the helicopter. Simon filmed him. The helicopter took off again, and it seemed as if nothing had happened. The sprinklers were turned on once more and their monotonous rattle emphasized the renewed silence spreading over the stadium. The fans preferred to forget the recent occurrence, shrinking into their seats. Veronica was crying quietly, asking Clebber to change places with her so she could sit between him and Charlie. That way she would feel more protected.
“Simon, when you meet the president, you’ve got to ask him to stop all these surprises. I can’t sleep like this,” Veronica whispered out into the darkness.
“She’s starting to lose it,” Clebber said.
“No, she’s not,” Simon responded. “I really am going to meet the president.”
“Which president?” Charlie asked.
“Dad, the president of the Spanish Coalition is stuck in the stadium too.”
“So who’s keeping us locked up in here, Simon?”
“Dad, there are things I don’t know yet, but I’m looking into them. Meanwhile, Veronica is right. The only thing you can do is try and sleep as best you can and make sure to eat and maintain your health. Because the first ones to go will be the tired and the sick.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad, we’re going to be living here for a really long time.”
“That can’t be right,” Charlie whispered.
“It’s exactly because you don’t believe it that it can actually happen. All the amazing things happened because people didn’t believe they could happen.”
Charlie hugged Simon’s lanky body. Simon stroked his father’s head.
“Don’t worry, Dad. It’s easiest for me. I’m used to sleeping while sitting up, I don’t like to eat, and tonight, I realized for the second time that I can hear bat sounds.”
“Simon, try to be less active, to stand out less,” Charlie mumbled.
“Dad, I feel good. I want to tell you what happened tonight. I’m almost sure I know the truth.”
“You’re confusing me, my Simon. It looks like you’re feeling really good during this revolution, but you’re telling me you’re hearing bat sounds, and that worries me.”
“They know what to do with us and how to control us. A soccer pitch, seats, water in the taps and healthy snacks and we’re all good. But they didn’t plan on dealing with the bats. Dad, they didn’t know they’d have a bat problem. There’s a colony of hundreds of thousands of bats living in this stadium. They hang under the roofs, at a height of a few dozen yards. They might also have burrows under the stadium. But they come out to feed in the stadium itself. There are hundreds of kinds of bats in the world. The ones here are vampire bats. They were living quietly and not bothering anyone until now. When there are games and the lights are on, they hide in the darkness of their burrows under the stands, and at night, after the games, when the stadium empties, they come out to feed. Now, when we’re trapped in here, they’re not getting the intervals when the stadium is empty at night.”
An irritated voice called out behind them, demanding that they keep quiet since they were disrupting others’ sleep.
“The bats are taking over the world, and this guy needs it to be quiet so he can sleep,” Charlie said to Simon.
“Dad, ‘taking over’ is an exaggeration.”
“Since 9/11, nothing seems like an exaggeration to me. So what happened, Simon, what happened with the bats?”
“One thing’s for sure: the lockdown in the stadium disrupted the bats’ natural balance,” Simon whispered.
“What do they eat?”
“Insects and other life forms on the turf and within the stadium.”
“That’s all?”
“No. I have a special theory about the bats in this stadium. They come down to the grass to lick the blood and the saliva that the players leave behind on the blades after every game. And there’s quite a lot of it. Think how much the players spit, and about the hundreds of times they slide down onto the turf. Naturally, they leave behind enough blood and skin remnants to satisfy the needs of thousands of bats. Now they have no choice. Not only are they not getting a regular food supply, since there are no games ever since the lockdown, but their very lives are at risk. That’s why they’re attacking the threat that seems immediate to them, the snipers sending out infrared rays that threaten their sonar waves.”
“Why are you interested in all this, Simon?”
“Their burrows—there might be a way to follow them and see them flying into the burrows, and use the burrows to get out. That could be our escape route!”
“What escape are you talking about?”
“Dad, if you still don’t get it, we’re trapped. In order to get out, we need to escape.”
Simon was used to being a few steps ahead of his father. In fact, he was used to the fact that he was usually a few steps ahead of other people. Certainly when it came to swimming, but in other things as well. In regard to digital technology, for example. Less so with girls. But now he felt he was ahead of the curve in helping his father confront the full severity of the situation in which they found themselves. The thought of escape had not even left the slightest impression on the father’s mind, or perhaps on the mind of anyone in the stadium. Simon didn’t care. It was obvious to him that he needed to make use of every second in order to plan the escape. He didn’t need to account for the shock he was causing his father.
Charlie was stunned. He was suddenly struck by the realization that dwelling on what had actually happened or caused the stadium lockdown was a childish preoccupation with rumors and the gossip of overexcited soccer fans. He and his son were in the midst of a true disaster, and his son had grasped the need to escape.
“We still don’t know what’s going on out there, Simon.”
“Mom and Emily are out there.”
“It could be worse outside.”
“Maybe the president could tell me that,” Simon said.
“Do you think there’s freedom outside, Simon?”
/>
“Not necessarily. Outside might be less safe than inside.”
“How will we know if we don’t try?” Charlie asked.
Simon hugged his father. Veronica and Clebber were sitting in their seats, trying to shake off the shooting and the presence of the departed helicopter. They looked at the father and son as they hugged, and felt encouraged to think that perhaps something was getting better. Charlie smiled at them. Their expressions seemed pitiful. He looked around him, at the people sitting in their seats, trying to fall asleep for another night of uncertainty, a dark, stupefying night, a freezing night, in which those trying to fall asleep knew they had nowhere to go. Around him, Charlie saw the obtuse gazes of people telling themselves a fairy tale stating that everything would be okay. His son had realized that escape was necessary and had thus awakened a great joy within him. He hugged him once more, moved. Simon, who was used to hugs from his father, reciprocated, engulfing Charlie in his long arms and placing his chin on his father’s head. The two rested for a bit in each other’s arms, and Simon was the one to think that since Charlie had moved out, about five years ago, they were hugging more.
“Dad, there’s one more thing I’m trying to understand, and I think it’s got something to do with what’s happening outside: why didn’t Rose’s friends hurry in to help her?”
“That streaking girl?”
“Yeah.”
“Because people are traitorous, Simon. Not just certain kinds of people, and not just in one area. People can pledge loyalty to the death, to the woman they love, or to a place, to friends fighting for an idea, and the next thing that happens is betrayal. The closer people are, the more they commit and believe with no boundaries, the more the betrayal is stunning. It’s like the pledge of loyalty invites the betrayal in.”
“Dad, I don’t like what you’re saying.”
“But that’s the way it is.”
“It should be different, and you’re ruining your life by assuming that that’s how things are.”
“You should be prepared for the worst.”
“No. You should be prepared for the best. I miss her.”
Charlie was sorry for exposing his son to the despair that had taken over his life since he lost Clara, since he lost his faith in her and in the shared life he’d planned along with her in the house on the bluff overlooking the sea. A sense of disappointment in himself always flooded him this way when he found himself exposing some weakness to Simon. As always, he realized there was a flaw in himself he had not managed to figure out: the self-pity he had felt since his parents betrayed him by departing, or vindictiveness toward Clara, who could no longer stand him. There could be a thousand reasons weakening him, but what spurred him into displaying them to Simon, as if he was whining, ‘Look what they’ve done to me’? After all, I’m a pretty crappy father, Charlie thought, if I can’t spare my self-pity from my son. He looked down, away from Simon, hoping he had managed to overcome the weakness reeking from him now.
“There’s nothing to miss. Soon we won’t be here,” Charlie said.
“Dad, it’s nice to miss people.”
“You should look ahead.”
“Don’t you miss Mom?”
“You know how Mom and I are.”
“And Emily? She’s your daughter.”
“Yes, I miss her very much.”
“And does it feel good?”
“It hurts, but it also feels good. We’ll see them soon. Don’t lose hope.”
“I want to sleep, Dad.”
“It’s good that you’re tired. Sleep, sweetie. You’ve gone through enough today.”
“Dad, you think about the bats and Rose’s gang and the president too. That’s where salvation lies.”
“It’s nice to think about bats. It’s mysterious and soothing. What will you think about, Simon?”
“About Rose. I’ve invited her into my dream. Good night, Dad.”
18.
Rose was very angry at her friends in the resistance. She had done her part, while they were letting her down, avoiding, for quite a while now, having a real discussion about what she considered to be betrayal. She sat among them in the stand and at night curled up in Simon’s blanket. Her silence was supposed to reproach them for their betrayal, but they treated her as if she was excessively temperamental and avoided looking her in the eye. She had sacrificed herself according to plan, while they had chickened out at the last minute. It was true that she hadn’t fully stuck to the plan either. She was supposed to burst onto the pitch and streak while the game was still going on, but she hadn’t managed to overcome her fear and shame. Only when the game was over did she find the courage to run out naked for their supreme cause.
“You were supposed to carry out your part of the plan,” she angrily told David, the head of the group.
“If you had done yours at the right time, we would have completed the mission before the lockdown.”
“That’s an excuse and you know it,” Rose accused.
“Now it doesn’t matter anymore. The entire thing became idiotic. Our resistance fought a regime that toppled and your protest streak took place after the coup.”
“Our resistance fights all oppressors. You think ‘the Others’ locked us in here because they’re so worried about the people? You promised to take control of the president.”
“Your naked run was pointless,” David said. “You got going too late.”
“Are you saying I sacrificed my body for nothing?”
“If you prefer to feel like a victim, be my guest.”
“Yes, I prefer to sacrifice myself to our cause and not to your cowardice. You’re so patronizing you don’t even understand that you denied me the chance to make a sacrifice I could have lived with, and turned me into a naked woman running around like crazy in a soccer stadium.”
Their fellow resistance members watched them with concern. Who knew how many informers were sitting in the audience, trying to hunt down resistance cells? Now it no longer mattered. If there were informers, they had no one to report to. Everything had been overturned. Protest against the cruel president, Alfredo August, was no longer pertinent. Most of the ministers in the overthrown government were trapped in the VIP boxes in the stadium.
Rose was no longer willing to choke down her anger. Since her run, she had been walking around with a sensation of rage that was relentless. Every time her thoughts returned to the image of the tall boy towering above her and wrapping her in a blanket, a cold pain pierced her heart. Every time she tried to reimagine the taste of the sweet hot chocolate that had flooded her mouth, the taste of rust scratched at her throat again. That was the taste of betrayal, Rose thought, filling her with bad thoughts at night. Thoughts that retained the frost that had invaded her naked flesh along with the shame of being exposed to everyone’s eyes. Humiliation that asked her to seek revenge on those who had betrayed her.
“The plan was for you to take control of the president while all the bodyguards and security forces were busy with me. That’s what you promised me.”
“But no one was chasing you.”
“You could have at least come down and covered me.”
“We thought all the president’s security guards would chase you, and all the attention to your pretty ass would help us take over the VIP box,” David said.
“Why didn’t you do it?”
“Because no one was chasing you, and not because of your ass. The Others’ revolution preempted ours. They had time to close the gates and actually establish communication with intelligence agencies and the president’s guard. We didn’t realize that the security personnel disappeared in accordance with the coup’s plan. We thought they’d gone on high alert in protecting the president in the VIP box.”
“You’re a cowardly, arrogant son of a bitch. If you’d have broken into the VIP boxes, things might have worked out
differently.”
“Rose, the worst thing that could happen is if we start to fight among ourselves. Our enemy was taken down by other people.”
“Our enemy remains the same, and it’s located on the outside. If you’d have grabbed hold of the president, everything could have been different.”
“How?”
“Maybe the Others would have panicked and backed off from their plan.”
“Rose, you’re deluding yourself that things just happen. They’re more strategic than we are. We knew that they existed and that they wanted to break free just as much as we did. But we didn’t know they were so serious, a lot more so than us. Rose, I’m sorry your naked run was in vain.”
“You’re an idiot and a pig if you’re talking about my nudity instead of being committed to the cause.”
“You’re refusing to see the big picture.”
“Don’t try to cop out of your betrayal because of some big picture.”
“Rose, they’re smarter and more sophisticated and stronger than us. We’re too naïve. We thought we could liberate the world with streaking and some scare tactics in the president’s VIP box, but they knew that in order for liberation to occur, you have to take over the security forces and the intelligence agencies. I don’t know how they did it, but it’s a fact. We already know it’s not localized. They’ve also seized control on the outside. I don’t know why, but our connection with our members throughout the world has been severed, and that means something.”
“What does it mean?”
“That this stadium isn’t the only thing they’ve seized control of.” David sounded and looked depressed. “How could we have been so naïve?”
