by Frank Klus
“So you and the professor have a pretty good relationship?”
“Oh, sure. I’ve done some work for him in terms of helping him organize his workload, and he helps me with writing up reports. I suppose I’ve asked him for help understanding a lot of the things going on in the country. He’s invited me over to his house on several occasions. He’s a terrific guy, Den.”
“Is he now?”
This unassuming question put Eugene on edge; it sounded accusatory. “You know, Dennis, I guess I just assumed you were a populist too, being in the Lightning Squad and all.”
“I’m not political. Not many of us are.”
“How did you get in with the Lightning Squad?”
“Well, a buddy of mine got a job with them, and then he got me in. That was a little over three years ago. Now I’m a squad leader.”
“What’s a squad leader?”
“It’s just the next to the lowest ranking. The lowest ranking is a pointman. A squad consists of two pointmen and the squad leader.
“The next highest ranking is Battalion Commander. This guy leads a group of twenty squads.
“Then comes the Lieutenant, who leads a brigade. This is all the battalions in a given territory, like the south side of Old Chicago.
“Above him is a Captain that heads a district. This is a group of brigades. He runs a given territory, like Old Chicago/Indiana District.
“Then the General runs a zone, consisting of a number of districts. My general is Bezz Holder. He runs the Great Lakes Zone.
“Finally, there is the Commandant, who runs the entire Squad.
“In addition, there is a hierarchy for the political and the judicial systems.”
“Gene’s not really interested in all that, honey,” Teresa said. “Dennis is expecting a new promotion soon.” She giggled as she spoke.
“I’m hoping to make brigade commander. With more pay, we can afford to move out to the burbs.”
“It’s our dream,” she said. “Honey, maybe you should start the grill now. I’m sure Gene’s getting hungry.”
“Oh, you’re right. I forgot about the time. You hungry, Genie?”
“Sure am!”
“Well, I hope so, my man, because I got three T-bones that are just waiting to be seared on the grill.”
Dennis and Eugene walked out to the backyard and Dennis fired up the grill while Teresa prepared the fixings. The men talked a little sports and tossed a football around before eating. After polishing off the steaks, Teresa sat down with her magazines, and Dennis and Eugene got into more serious talk.
“How’s your brother, Ray, doing?” Eugene asked. “I thought he’d be here.” Dennis’s brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened.
“That’s kind of a sore subject with Dennis,” Teresa said.
“I don’t see him much,” Dennis said—his voice slightly gruffer. “We kicked him out of the Squad for, let us say, unsavory behavior.”
“Wha…what did he do?”
“Killed a bunch of people,” Teresa said.
Eugene thought better of asking any more questions. There was a pause as the trio thought of a better subject to talk about. Finally, Dennis turned to Eugene. “Ever think about going to the new country, Gene?”
“Oh, I supposed it had crossed my mind a time or two. I’ve talked about it with Harold Zinney, and he’s largely in the same situation as me. We both have good jobs, and we’re unlikely to give them up so easily.” Eugene paused and decided he wanted to get Dennis’s take. “So, what do you think of the new country?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s a commie country, and it may well have some good points. Certainly, it has helped a lot of people, but I really don’t know much about it.”
“I don’t know much about it either except for what Professor Zinney said about it.”
“What was that?”
“They have no unemployment to speak of; no slums; and people make good money.”
“I’ve heard that. I’m not sure I believe it, though. I also heard that you have to buy your job and then you can have it for life. Now, Genie, you’re a businessman; got an MBA and all. Does that sound like any way to run a business? I mean, what happens if the business isn’t doing well? It’s not like you can just lay people off. They’ll scream at you about being an owner. Christ, man, how can such a place survive?”
“Every place would deal with problems in their own way, but what I do know is that the worker/owners get to decide for themselves. They may elect to slow down production. They may decide on a four day work week. They may choose to export more products. They may resolve to lower their prices to increase their market share. Whatever they agree on, the point is, they get to decide it; not shareholders or some CEO.”
“Well, you’re more of an expert than I’ll ever be, but it just seems like it would be better to layoff some people then for no one to get paid.”
“It does sound like a problem, but New America seems to be doing a pretty good job of handling it.”
“But how do you know, Gene? There isn’t much information coming out of that place except that everything is all hunky dory.” Dennis got up to stretch and then turned to Eugene. “That place scares me, Gene. No one really knows what is going on there. People who go there don’t come back.”
They talked for hours and Gene totally forgot about Catherine. He looked at his watch and it was almost four o’clock. Dennis sensed he might be anxious to get home. “There’s still time before curfew.”
Eugene smiled and slapped himself on the knee. “I promised Catherine I’d be home before too long. We’re going out tonight.” He got up and stretched. “It’s so good seeing you again. Teresa, you’ve got a good man, here.”
“I know. Why don’t you come over again next Saturday and bring Catherine?” she said.
“I’d rather return the favor and have you come out to West Chicago. I promise to get you home before curfew.” They all laughed and agreed.
Dennis and Teresa watched as Eugene climbed into the Lexus and drove off. Teresa turned and looked at her husband. Dennis sat silently in his chair, staring ahead with a stern countenance.
“I thought it went well,” Teresa said.
Dennis continued to stare ahead, now expressionless. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to his wife. “I have to find a way to spy on Eugene’s and Zinney’s conversations.”
Teresa wore a coy smile as she stared at the street. “I don’t think you have to worry about that at all, dear. Ray is the bigger issue.” Then she turned her eyes toward him. “He’ll meet him, you know.”
Chapter 4:
Friend or Foe
When Eugene got home Catherine was nowhere to be found. He felt disappointed she wasn’t there. He looked forward to going out with her, but now he figured Catherine was drinking, and he was upset that he couldn’t depend on her. He began regretting that he invited Dennis and Teresa up to West Chicago. What if Catherine gets drunk or is not around? It would be an embarrassment. What would Dennis and Teresa think?
Eugene lived in an upscale neighborhood. It was walled off in semi-imitation of the Fortress, and copied what many middle class residents were doing to wall themselves away from the deteriorating regions around them. His home was fairly new, built about ten years ago, when they expanded the town. It consists of three bedrooms, one converted to a workshop by Catherine, and two full baths. His basement was converted to a bar, half bath, and recreation room. Eugene would often sit in the living room with a glass of wine, listening to Sibelius or Vivaldi; often reflecting on some problem at work.
What occupied his thoughts now was Catherine. Where is she? He poured himself a drink, put on some music, but couldn’t take any satisfaction as he sat in the recliner. He turned off the music and went out onto the veranda and looked forward to Catherine’s return, but she did not return. As day gave way to night, Eugene finally went inside. He had a look at television, the newspaper, more music, and no Catherine. Eugene worried. Where is she
?
On Monday morning Eugene got up first and made his own breakfast. He finished, and was drinking a cup of coffee when Catherine came down. She’d been gone all weekend.
“Good morning, honey,” Eugene said. “Want some breakfast?”
“No, I’m not hungry, but I could use a cup of coffee.” Catherine looked wan and languid with bags under her eyes.
Eugene got her a cup and thought about making a fresh pot for her hangover. “Dennis and his wife, Teresa, were looking forward to meeting you Saturday.” Catherine pursed her lips as she looked up at him.
“Well, you’ll get a chance to meet them next Saturday. They’re coming over for a barbecue around twelve. Will you be here? It’ll be embarrassing for me if you’re not.”
“I don’t like the idea of them coming to our house. And I don’t think you should be seeing them.”
“What are you talking about? What do you know of them? They’re nice people.”
“They aren’t like us. They aren’t populists.”
“I know they aren’t. Neither are my parents or Bo. What am I supposed to do, not see them either?”
“That’s different and you know it. It’s different with him. He’s in the Lightning Squad.”
“How did you know they aren’t populists? I only realized that Saturday, when I visited them.” Catherine didn’t respond. Eugene could tell she was holding something back. “How did you know?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I can’t just uninvite them.” He got up from the table and began skulking around the kitchen. How does she know about them?
“Yes, you can. Do it! Make something up.”
“That’s enough!” raising his voice. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you. We used to know everything about each other. Now I don’t know what is getting into your head anymore. You come home drunk, if you come home at all. What the hell is going on?” Catherine began sobbing.
“What’s going on, Cath?” He set his cup down and crossed over to her side of the table. He grabbed a chair, sat down, and then leaned over to her. “We talked about AA.”
“It won’t help,” Catherine said. She turned to Eugene. Her face was flushed and tense; her voice rushed and desperate. “Please don’t let them come over, Gene. You don’t know them.”
“You sound like you do. Do you?”
“I only know who they pretend to be.”
“You’re not making any sense. How do you know about them?”
“I have to go,” she said, shaking her head. She pushed her chair back abruptly and left the kitchen.
“No. I need to know how you know so much,” he said as he followed her into the foyer.
Catherine fished for her car keys from the little tray, but her sharp jabs almost knocked the knickknack over. Eugene approached her quizzically.
“Please, Gene,” she said, half pleading; half shouting. “I’ve told you all that I can. Please, please, Gene, don’t bring them here. Please don’t do this. I…”
“I what?” Gene walked over to where Catherine was standing and put his arm around her.
She turned her head away from him and sighed. “I can’t go on.” She paused and turned to him. “Gene, listen to me. I love you, but you have to get out!”
“Get out of where? Please tell me what is going on with you.”
“I can’t,” she said almost whimpering. “I have to go.”
“I think this is the alcohol talking. You sound like a crazy person. Look, I’ll make a deal with you. If you promise to go to AA meetings, I’ll promise not to see Dennis again.”
Catherine’s eyes opened dejectedly. “I can’t…. I mean…it doesn’t matter. I could go to a hundred meetings and it won’t help.”
“CATHERINE!”
Catherine’s eyes welled up and she looked down. “Ooohhh!” she screeched as she covered her mouth with both hands. She was openly sobbing now as she leaned up against the wall near the side door. Eugene was frightened as he stared at his wife.
Catherine lifted her head and took her hands from her mouth. “A drink is the only thing that eases the pain.”
Eugene was driving to another assignment on the south side of Old Chicago, but he couldn’t help but reflect on that terrible morning. What’s going on? What does she know about Dennis and Teresa? Why does she hate them? Why won’t she tell me? As he headed south on Western Avenue he heard whistles shrilling and saw the Lightning Squad in his rear view mirror. He checked his speed. Five miles over the limit. They can’t flag me for that. Can they? Maybe it’s Dennis. They caught up and motioned to him to pull over. He figured it must be Dennis, but when he waited, he didn’t see his friend. A guy he didn’t know approached him. Christ. Just five over the limit, but how could I be so stupid. I let Catherine’s histrionics break my concentration. As the squad leader approach he reflected on his ugly face, and then as he got closer, Christ! He’s got no face.
“Driver’s license, please.”
Eugene complied.
“You Eugene Sulke?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You were speeding. Get out of the car, Mr. Sulke.”
Oh, where is Dennis? Eugene got out of the car. “Did you pull me over for speeding or because my name is Sulke?”
The angered squad leader hit him in the mouth with his rifle butt, and Gene staggered trying to stay on his feet. “Don’t get smart with me. Get back in your car and follow us. You do anything funny, and we’ll shoot your tires out.”
He did what he was told and they led him several miles to the brigade office. There they led him inside and treated him for a cut to his upper lip. Then they led him into an interrogation room. Oh, where is Dennis?
Eugene Sulke was in Battalion Headquarters 127 and held on charges of abusive language to a squad leader and speeding for a third time. When Eugene asked for a lawyer all he got was derision and laughter. Any other questions were ignored. Where is Dennis?
They put him in a jail cell. When he got there he was appalled by the condition of it. This is no jail cell; it’s a cage. There were no bars, just a steel mesh; about four by four. There was no toilet or cot; just a drain to urinate in. If he wanted to sit down, he’d have to do it on a cement floor. The guard told him if he needed to shit they would give him a bucket and six pieces of toilet paper. He would be charged a dollar for tossing out his waste. If he was there all day he’d get one meal every eight hours. It wasn’t designed to be delicious or nutritious either. Oh, where is Dennis?
Squad Leader O’Reilly showed up two hours later. He forced a smile and then had the cage opened. “Come on, Genie,” as Dennis motioned for him to come out. He escorted him outside and then looked at him a little more seriously. “Really, Gene. You can’t fuck with these guys. I would have gotten you off that speeding ticket. I’m friends with Mad Dog. That’s what we call the Battalion Commander. Doesn’t he look like a mutt?” He was almost laughing now and then got serious again.
“Gene, they wanted to take you to trial. You could lose your job if the judge found you guilty; and he would too. The judge is a Lightning Squad guy. The government allows this. Anyway, don’t worry. I talked Mad Dog out of any charges. That squad leader is a real asshole. He may be looking for you again, so be careful. If they stop you, be polite and they can’t bring you in. The squad leaders get half the fine for speeding or other violations, so you have to be on your guard. Things are getting worse around here. Come on, I’ll walk with you to your car.”
Gene thanked his friend as he got into his car and called his work. He apologized for being late, but lied about what happened, using the excuse that he broke down on the way there. He was fortunate that no one cared he was late, and they told him to come back tomorrow morning. Gene had begun driving home when he suddenly saw a strange woman sitting in his back seat. “What the fuck,” Gene yelled as he slammed on the breaks and pulled over to the side of the road.
She smiled serenely. “Hello, Gene.”
“Who the
hell are you?”
“My name is Cassandra O’Reilly. I’m Ray O’Reilly’s wife. You remember Ray, right? He’s Dennis’ brother.”
“What are you doing in my car? I mean, why are you here?”
“I’m looking after you.” Cassandra was a tough looking woman with flaming red cropped hair and greenish grey eyes. She was short—only about five feet tall and skinny as a rail, yet she talked like she was someone in authority, though she wore no uniform. She was quite self-assured as she climbed out of the backseat and into the front passenger one. She just looked at Gene and waited for him to say something.
“Why do I suddenly need all these people to look after me? First, Dennis, and now you.”
Cassandra smiled broadly. She wasn’t much more than twenty years old; about half Ray’s age, and much cuter. Her smile was infectious, and it caught Eugene off guard. He felt angry and attracted to her at the same time. Cassandra instantly picked up on that, and used it to her advantage. “I heard about your run-in with the Squad.”
“Are you with the Lightning Squad?”
Cassandra just stared at Eugene. “You’re really cute.”
“What?”
“You’re not a soldier, though.”
“I’m a businessman.”
“Well, as a businessman, you’re rather handsome with your cute little spare tire.” She pinched his stomach.
