by Pamela Jekel
He smoothed her hair and gently pulled her face back so he could see her eyes. “Well, you’re not crazy then. Because I’m terrified, too. But somehow, we have to have faith that this is all going to work out, and we’re going to get through it together.”
“Faith? Oh Christ, you’re such a fool,” she moaned.
“Yeah, but I’m your fool. And right now, we’re all we’ve got.”
She put her face down on his chest again. “I miss my mom so much; I want my father!” She sobbed softly. He rocked her back and forth, breathing deeply and slowly, and she let him. It was their signal. In a few moments, she stopped weeping and began to deliberately mimic his breathing; he didn’t have to say a word. In another moment, they were breathing deeply in unison, and it felt like one body pulling itself together, to a calmer, stronger place.
Finally, she lifted her head and gave him a patchy smile. “Okay. I’ll tell him the truth. What I know of it, anyway. But I’m not going to tell him Miranda’s in the kids’ dorm. He’ll think he’s missed paradise. I’m going to let him think the kids have to sleep in their parents’ rooms.”
“Okay,” he said. “On the floor. He’d hate that.”
“Probably not as much as he’s hating his own options. But at least he’s still free.” She sat down to write again.
Jack settled in to read all the instructions they’d been given.
Soon, it was time to go pick up Miranda, and when they got to the kids’ dorm, they had to wait outside, while they brought them out, floor by floor. He craned his neck in the crowd to see her. The younger ones were brought down first, and there she was, holding her roommate’s hand. “Miranda!” Skylar called, spotting her too. She turned and ran happily to them, throwing herself against her mother’s legs.
“Hi Mama! Guess what! Our team’s the red team, and we get to be in charge of all the cards at the movie tonight! Nobody can get in ‘less they give us their card, and nobody can get out ‘less we give them their card back, and we get to collect all the cards, that means put them all in a pile, and then we pass them out again, and we have to be sure everybody gets the right card! Hi Daddy!”
“Well, that’s terrific, kitten,” Jack said. “But can you read all those cards all by yourself?”
“’Course not, sillybilly,” she burbled, “but there are bunches of kids who can. We all help each other, ‘cause we’re the same team!”
“That’s wonderful, honey,” Skylar said. “And do you like Stacey?”
“Oh yeah, I like her lots. I’m hungry!”
They walked across the campus, following the signs to the cafeteria. The soldiers stood alongside the pathways, but if someone stopped to ask a question, they just motioned them on saying, “All your questions will be answered at assembly; please keep moving.” The dorms were broken up into cafeteria groups, and they followed the signs that said “Thomas Hall cafeteria”.
The lines were already long when they got there, and a soldier outside announced, “Please keep together. Parents are responsible for choosing their children’s food. Only one helping per person, keep moving please.” There was little of the usual conversation among adults as the line moved forward, but the kids waved to each other and called with more energy. As they got inside the building, a sign greeted them: “No seconds. All supplies are strictly rationed.”
Jack picked up a tray and handed it to Skylar, and he took one for himself. He could see up the line that the people serving appeared to be the normal cafeteria personnel, with white uniforms and hair-nets, and that old familiarity made him feel almost nostalgic. The tables were filling up rapidly; the food smelled good.
“Spaghetti!” Jack said to Miranda. “You love spag, right?”
The worker handed him a plate with a medium portion of spaghetti, a serving of salad, and a piece of bread, no butter, handed Skylar the same, and handed him a third plate for Miranda, with smaller portions. “Well, some of these folks are going to get in fighting trim pretty quick,” Skylar said, looking around. At the end of the line, there were filled glasses. “Milk or tea?” another server asked, handing them each their choice.
“Is there any salad dressing?” Jack asked.
“Already on it,” she said, motioning them along.
They found a table with three seats, and Miranda looked around eagerly to see who she might know close to them.
“I didn’t see any dessert, did you?” Skylar said wryly. “Not even dry old cafeteria cake.”
“Nope. But the meat sauce is pretty good.”
“Hope it’s not Jim’s horses.”
Jack introduced them to their seat partners, took a few bites, and said, “Well, it’s not bad at all, really. No worse than what I remember from school.”
“This milk tastes funny, Mama.”
Skylar took a sip from Miranda’s glass. “It’s powdered milk, honey. It’s perfectly fine; you’re just not used to it.” She put an ice cube from her tea into Miranda’s glass. “See if this is any better.”
“That’s better.” Miranda tipped it up. “Can I have more? I’m really thirsty.”
Jack went up to get another glass, but the server said, “No seconds, sir. There’s a pitcher of water at the end of the table.” He filled Miranda’s glass with water, and as he walked back to the table, he noticed that few adults were sharing table conversation. Instead, people were eating quickly and then vacating the chairs for those still in line.
“I’m going to be hungry again before lights out,” one man at their table grumbled.
“You can have my bread,” Miranda offered, holding it up so he could see. “I didn’t bite it yet.”
He smiled at her. “No thank you, honey, but that’s very nice of you. You eat your bread.” His son sat next to him, an older teenager. “You folks just in tonight?”
“Yes,” Jack replied, “you’ve been here a few days?”
“Just got in yesterday. I think we were in the second group.”
“Well, is the food usually this….basic?” Skylar asked.
“Not a lot of meat, that’s for sure. Soup last night, pasta tonight.” He patted his belly. “I’ll finally get rid of this extra baggage, at least. Breakfast is oatmeal, cold cereal, and powdered eggs, no meat. Lunch is sandwiches; yesterday was bologna, one slice, no cheese. It’ll keep us alive, but that’s about the best I can say for it.”
“So you don’t have your work assignments yet?” Jack asked.
“Nobody does. You’re the last group to come in, I heard. We all get our assignments tomorrow after breakfast.” He looked around. “I gotta say, the ones I feel sorry for most are the smokers. I heard they took any cigs they found in the bags, and of course, there’s no place to buy them on campus. No matches, either. They’ll be going cold turkey. And on mostly empty bellies.”
“Well, we don’t smoke,” Jack said. “But we do eat. I wouldn’t mind having another snack box; those weren’t half bad.”
“When you are done, please take your trays to the collection area and let others use your seats,” a soldier announced on his bullhorn.
“All done, kitten?” His plate and Skylar’s had been empty for moments.
“Yup,” Miranda said. “Do we go to the movie now?”
They took their trays to a long metallic counter and, following the directions on the signs, put their dirty dishes on the moving conveyer belt and their trays on the stack at the side. A soldier directed them outside to the pathway that led to the Woodruff Physical Education Center, and they followed the crowds in that direction. “I have to go potty, Mama,” Miranda said. Skylar looked around helplessly. All the buildings appeared dark and locked.
“We all should go,” Jack suggested. “I’m sure there are bathrooms open at the Center.”
“There’re going to be long lines,” Skylar said. “Maybe we should just take her back to the dorm?”
“Which one?” Jack asked. “We can’t go in hers, and she can’t go in ours, even if they’re unlocked, which I doub
t.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Skylar said. “A simple thing like taking your kid to the bathroom, such a big damn deal!”
“It’s okay, Mama, I can hold it.” She raised her chin.
“Great.” Sky’s mouth was sullen. “Guess we’ll all have to.”
They made their way through the toilet lines, and then soldiers directed them to take Miranda to the floor of the Center, where the kids were sitting altogether on the basketball court. “They’re doing their best to keep us apart,” Skylar said, as they left her there happily in a group of her teammates. “It’s the beginning of communism, you know. Splitting up the families like this.”
Jack was too weary of constantly being cheerleader to respond. The auditorium was filling with people, up and down the aisles, getting kids settled, and some of the adults, he saw, were attempting to sit with new friends. He looked for Jim and Judy, but he couldn’t see them in the crowd. A color-guard came out, bearing a United States flag and a Georgia flag. The crowd got to its feet. From a podium at the same end, a military officer announced, “Stand for your National Anthem, ladies and gentlemen.” The “Star Spangled Banner” began to play over the loudspeakers, and a video of an American flag flying over the Capitol played on all four side of the cubed television monitor which hung over the basketball court.
Jack was caught off guard by his sudden inability to choke out the words and the tears which welled in his eyes. He was not alone, he saw. Skylar moaned softly next to him and dropped her head. Many people around him were either weeping or struggling not to do so. Some women turned into their husband’s bodies, as if to shield themselves from the painful sight of the flags being paraded around the perimeter of the court. One young black soldier stood close to Jack in the aisle and saluted the flag, as tears rolled silently down his cheeks. The singing was faltering, but those who did sing were making a strong effort, some of them trying to encourage those around them. Towards the end of the anthem, the childrens’ voices, high and innocent and hopeful, finally carried the crowd, leading the adults into the final verse with enough strength to finish without shame. His eyes caught Miranda in the tangle of children on the court. Seeing his gaze, she turned and waved at him brightly.
The same officer who called them to attention then began the assembly. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am Captain Harold Robinson, United States Army. I’m going to brief you this evening, but before we begin, I’d like to invite our younger teams to follow their R.A.’s out the rear door to the smaller auditorium, where they’ll be seeing a movie, courtesy of the Emory Film Club library, ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’ with Keanu Reeves.” Many of the children gasped and clapped with excitement. “Yes, we thought you’d like that. Vintage Keanu. You are hereby excused.”
The children filed out in an orderly fashion, lined up behind their R.A’s, and Miranda waved at them again as she went out the door, almost the smallest one in the whole group. Her little hand in the sea of waving hands was hard to pick out, but her smile was singular and easy to spot, Jack thought.
“Okay, people, it is my job to brief you on what you need to know to be in harmony with your team and the system we have established for your safety. Some of what I will tell you now can be found in your instruction packets; most isn’t. I will give this briefing once and only once. It is identical to the briefings being given at a dozen different universities, colleges, and technical schools within the greater Atlanta area. We have chosen to house our citizens on campuses to make establishing our priorities more efficient. You are not, repeat not, guests of this facility, temporary boarders of this facility, or civilians anymore. You are now under the jurisdiction of the United States Armed Services, and as such, you will follow protocols set up to protect the majority of our citizens and see to their survival. I will expect your full attention to this briefing, and I will answer limited questions at the end of the briefing.”
There was a loud rustling through the audience, and the officer paused, his eyeglasses glinting in the overhead lights. His face filled the television monitor, and his jaw was set. The rustling and murmuring ceased, while he waited for attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are here because our nation is under attack. You are here because you wish to survive. Our survival will require sacrifice from every individual and the collective effort of all of us. I’m going to start with the simpler rules and regulations and move up to a mission statement, and you will hold your questions until the end of this briefing.”
He set a paper aside and picked up another one. “First important rule is this: no smoking is allowed anywhere on campus at any time, no exceptions. If you are caught smoking in your dormitory, or if you accidently set off a smoke detector for any reason, all members of your floor will be evacuated, searched, all rooms will be searched, and you will not be granted access to your dormitory again until said searches are accomplished, no matter the hour or the climate. Those of you who currently smoke will quit immediately. Anyone who will not or cannot comply will be sent to the infirmary, where we will supervise your abstinence from tobacco.”
“Whoa,” Skylar said. “Big Brother, big-time.”
The officer announced other rules and then said, “We encourage communication with your loved ones. The Postal Service is still operational under military jurisdiction, albeit with many delays. If your letter is postmarked with our military stamp, no other stamp will be necessary. Mail drops are at each dorm.”
He gestured to the guards beside him. “Soldiers do not have your answers, people. Soldiers are instructed to avoid unnecessary conversation with citizens. That means they are under instruction not to speak to you unless necessary. They will be disciplined if they disobey this order, so please do not bother them with your questions. They do not know, and if they did, they would not tell you. You will see uniforms of Army, Navy, Air Force, and National Guard personnel, all of them professionals. These service personnel are now under the command of the United States Army, which means on this campus, they are under my direct command.”
He gestured to the television monitor above them. “You will have noticed that there are no televisions, newspapers, radios, cable, or Internet accesses available either in your rooms or in your dormitory lounges. This is deliberate, both for power conservation and also because anything you need to know, the United States Army will tell you. Any effort to bring outside information onto campus will result in your immediate expulsion from this campus, under armed guard, onto the unprotected streets of Atlanta.”
“What a prick,” Skylar said. Jack shot a cautioning glance at her, but the soldier next to him either did not hear or chose to ignore her.
The captain went on with more rules and regulations about curfews, visits to other dorms, food in the dorms, laundry facilities, warnings about straying to off-limits areas on campus, being late for meals, and recommendations about proper attitudes, recreational time, and assimilation behavior, but Jack paid the closest attention when he began to speak about their mission.
“People, here are the facts. We have lost over one-quarter of our population, including most of our normal governmental branches. Washington DC has suffered catastrophic fires, and the new capital has been moved to Fort Hood, Texas, the largest military base in the United States. In four months, our nuclear reactors will be shut down. In five months, some of the largest oil pipelines will cease to flow. That is global, and that is only what we know so far. Because of these pending events, the use of electricity and fossil fuel is now restricted to military consumption only, and available only in those sites, such as this one, where survivors are gathered. Citizen use of electricity is hereby banned. Citizen use of automobiles is hereby banned. As of now, the Attorney General and the Joint Chiefs have full authority over the United States government, and we are getting orders directly from the Newcomers on the government central computers. If you heard your acting Chief Executive’s broadcast, you know the truth. We have no choice but to comply. We have no acceptable defense
s against them. However, regardless of their presence, and even if they were to evacuate our planet tomorrow, the loss of over one-quarter of our population makes what we do here absolutely necessary to insure the continuing survival of the remainder of our population.”
He paused for emphasis. “Ladies and gentlemen, our mission is exactly that: the survival of our nation. To that end, every individual is expendable, and no one can be allowed to subvert our mission by any behavior which threatens the collective welfare of our population. Specifically, the children and women of child-bearing years are our first priority. If and when food resources become even more limited, it will be those groups who receive rations. However, even in those groups, no one individual will be allowed to endanger the mission. Let me repeat myself: adult males are not our priority, women past child-bearing age are not our priority, and those who cannot or will not support our mission are not our priority. Our mission is the survival of our nation.”
Skylar began to shake her head back and forth in silent denial. Jack took her hand, to comfort them both. He was surprised that there was so little verbal rebellion in the crowd. A group that would easily boo an umpire or catcall a presidential candidate was mostly silent, wide-eyed and frozen in shock. The only audible sounds were those of emotion.
The officer scanned the crowd and as he raised his head, the intensity of his gaze was unmistakable, even through his glasses. “Tomorrow you will be given your work assignments, according to your floor teams. There will be no preferential treatment, no malingering, and no excuses accepted for individual non-effort. Those who feel themselves unable to work will be sent to the infirmary. Their spousal units or partners will not accompany them. If your wife or husband goes to the infirmary, you will be assigned another same-sex roommate. Malingers will be expelled from the campus, escorted beyond the gates by armed guards and left unprotected and unfed. Our supplies and resources must be rationed to feed those who support our mission.”
