10.4
“Monsieur?” Cole looked down. A tiny white poodle was pulling at his pants leg. He didn’t have time for this. He’d been looking all night for his room and hadn’t found it. He was exhausted. And where was Ruth? She said she’d meet him in the cafeteria, but she was nowhere to be seen. With the exception of the tiny old man who’d been following him all evening, the cafeteria was empty. The old man cleared his throat and spoke again, his weird eyes winking backward into his head like a frog’s. “Monsieur?”
Cole opened his eyes. The train had stopped. It was light outside. And here was the porter shaking him awake. The older man’s gentle, doe-eyed, patrician face conveyed both amusement and concern.
“Nous sommes à Montréal, monsieur,” he said with a smile. “Montréal.”
Cole smiled in return. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough and dry.
The porter left. Cole turned to watch Linda sleep, her knees tucked up to her chin, her head propped at an awkward angle against the window. In Montmagy, under the dark overhang, they’d both taken a sleeping pill fifteen minutes before the train was scheduled to stop. “The Ocean” had actually arrived ten minutes early and they’d boarded without incident, purchasing their tickets with the wad of cash Keeley had stuffed into Cole’s hand before she left. They also purchased tickets to Toronto, Buffalo and Detroit. Even though the aliens and the People could apparently track them at will, there was no reason to make it any easier for them. Maybe they could throw them off the trail for a while.
The car had been half full, if that, and they’d fallen like rag dolls into their seats, the porter bringing them pillows and blankets almost instantly. While “service” was deteriorating around the planet, the trains in Canada were clean and well-staffed, as if things there had actually improved. Cole and Linda relaxed instantly, feeling like they’d been transported to some safer, saner universe. They fell eagerly to sleep, trusting that the porter would wake them in Montréal. He had. Cole hoped that their trust in the pills was similarly justified. It was bad enough, if what Keeley had said was true, that these People must already know that they were on a train. He did not want them to know their destination.
Linda was lovely in sleep. The cares of her world had fallen away, leaving simple beauty and grace to radiate from her face in a soft, even glow. In the course of just two days, this President, this woman, had become precious to him as few people ever had. She’d given him the gift of needing him, and of needing him to be exactly who he was. He longed for the time to savor that. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to whisk away the pain that had already found her, and spare her the hard days he knew were still coming. He wished he could just let her rest.
“Linda?” he said softly, taking her hand. Her fingers flexed but she did not stir. “Linda?”
Cole watched over her as her breathing slowly grew deeper with each inhalation. After a minute she opened her eyes, focusing on some distant land. “I was dreaming of Earl,” she whispered.
“I’m glad,” Cole said.
“He was … he was in a park. Or the woods. Walking a couple of his old black Labs. Tossing a tennis ball for them to chase. He said he was okay. And he told me to remember to wear my mittens because it was going to get cold.” She smiled, looking into Cole’s eyes. “Are we there yet?”
“We’re in Montréal.”
“What time is it?”
Cole checked his watch. “Eight forty-seven.”
“Hmmm.” Linda sat up and stretched, her hands reaching the overhead compartment. “You sleep?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think I did.”
She looked around the car. “We’re the last ones.”
“Yeah. The porter was just here. Woke me up. We’ve probably been here ten minutes or so.”
“And we’ve got til ten?”
“The 33 to Ottawa leaves right at ten, yeah. So we’ve got time for breakfast. And maybe I should call the kids.”
Linda frowned. “Is that a good idea? I mean…”
Cole hiked his shoulders as if to protect his exposed neck. Linda’s question brought the previous night’s cold horrors crashing back in on the warm comfort of the present moment. He exhaled his frustration and closed his eyes. “How can we know?” he said, rubbing his face. His voice was dark and heavy with anger, fatigue and helplessness. “Like, can they crawl into the telephone and follow the lines right back to my kids? Are those bastards already there, at my dad’s house?” He looked at Linda. “Fuck! Who the hell knows? I mean, even with Rice dead … there’s more of ‘em, right? More of them,” he motioned to the air around them with a wave of his arm, “just, I don’t know, swarming all around us, ready to pounce.”
“I wish I knew,” answered Linda softly.
“It’s fucking killing me,” Cole said bitterly. “Not knowing if the kids are okay.” His face was tight and angry, furrowed with helplessness and hardened with the need to protect his children.
“Yeah,” said the President. There was a loud banging sound out on the platform, followed by some distant shouts. Linda took a long, slow breath and glanced at the door of the railroad car. She squeezed Cole’s hand. “I think we need to get going,” she said.
Cole nodded, then got up and pulled the duffle bag down from overhead. “We need coffee,” he said, as if they might both find their answers at the bottom of a cup.
“Hell, yeah, we do,” answered Linda. She unfolded her legs and pulled herself to her feet. Together they made their way off the train.
Economic instability had been good for the railroads; the #33 was packed to the rafters with mid-week commuters. With the Economy and Business class seats sold out, Cole and Linda ended up paying for first class tickets. That was fine by Cole. If they got through this alive, he intended to present a hefty bill to the U.S. Treasury, the thought of which made him smile. The coffee in the snack bar had been surprisingly good, as had the croissants. Add in three hours of sleep, the preferred seating, and the complimentary newspaper, and all-in-all he was feeling pretty good. Sitting side by side now on the leather sofa in the lounge car, watching the Canadian countryside pass by through the panoramic windows, Cole and Linda had time to simply sit and catch their breath. And to look at each other.
“Tell me about your brother,” said Linda. Ten minutes in the rest room had left her looking fresh and alive and whole again. Keeley’s clothes, purples and yellows in gauzy layers and flowing designs, made for a wonderful disguise. With her eyeliner and lipstick retouched to perfection, Linda was a forty-something flower goddess seeing the sights. The President of the United States was nowhere to be seen.
“Okay. Jeez. Let’s see.” Cole shrugged. “I’m not sure where to start.”
“Well, let’s see,” said Linda playfully. “He’s your brother … which means he had the same parents as you do. And he lives in Duluth. And his name’s Obie?”
“His name’s Carl. OB stands for Older Brother. I never really got to know him as a person, by name. I just knew him from the stories my folks told. It was ‘your older brother’ this and ‘your older brother’ that. I started calling him OB and it stuck.”
“But he’s in Duluth?”
“I guess. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“How many years?”
“Maybe ten.”
“Really? Close family, huh? Why did you never get to know him?”
Cole nodded. “Yeah, well, he was fifteen when I was born. He was the oldest and I was the third-born. So we never really knew each other as kids. He was pretty much out of the house by the time I was walking.”
“I see,” Linda said. “And he moved off to Duluth and you stayed in … where was it?”
“Carville. Up north of St. Cloud.”
“You stayed in Carville. And you just lost touch?”
“He joined the military right out of high school. The Air Force. Ended up in the ISR, down in Texas.”
“The ISR?”
“Intelligence, Surveillance and Rec
onnaissance Agency. He got into computers in high school. One of those whiz kid types. Got caught up in the whole ‘air and space superiority’ thing. And then he went nuts and disappeared off the face of the planet.”
Linda twisted to face him. “He what?”
Cole sighed. “Well, that’s a kind of shorthand way of saying I have no idea what happened. He was career Air Force, all the way. Then about the time I’m graduating from high school my dad gets a letter saying Obie’s in a hospital in Turkey. Some sort of mental breakdown. Before Dad can get there to see him he disappears. He’s been living on the street ever since, as far as we know. He was in Chicago for years, but then started heading farther north in the summer. Dad says he loved Duluth as a kid.”
“I see.” Linda stared out the window for a bit, letting the information sink in. Just past Alexandria now, the train pushed through agricultural lands and wooded parcels. The morning sky was clear and crisp, the sun bright. It was only a couple of hours to Ottawa. Hardly enough time for thinking. She turned to Cole. “He must be involved,” she said.
“Who? Obie?”
“Yeah. Keeley said that he was angry because she called him. Somebody made that connection. Somebody wants us to talk to him.”
“Oh. Right.” Cole made a soft, sardonic snort. Of course. He knew that. He just hadn’t taken the time to know that he knew it. Somehow his brother was involved with all this. He shrugged. “Something funny there, though. If he’s living on the street he doesn’t have a phone, right?”
“Yeah. You’d think.”
Cole rose. “Fuck it. We need to know. And I need to talk to my kids. I’m gonna call Dad. Maybe whoever the hell it is that likes to play with telephones hooked him up with Obie too.”
Linda stiffened at the thought of endangering the kids, then calmed herself with a breath. “OK,” she said. “If that’s what your gut tells you is right, let’s go with it. This might be the perfect time. Maybe Rice’s death has thrown the People off our trail. And you need to let your kids know that you’re okay.”
Cole smiled courageously, relieved to have Linda’s blessing. He looked around the lounge car, then back down at the President.
Linda pointed to the doorway behind him. “There’s a phone in the dining car.”
Cole grabbed his wallet from his jacket on the seat. “I’ll be right back.”
10.5
Linda’s heart started pounding with fear when Cole returned to the lounge car. His face was tight with worry. He sat beside her and took her hand. “Grace is asleep again. Wouldn’t wake up this morning. Dad’s got the doctor coming.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry.” Linda shifted in her seat and pulled up her legs so she could give Cole her full attention. “It’s really scary, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It is.” He waved his arms around his head in exasperation. “I mean, is she like … here? Right now? Hovering around us? Is she running into those freaks, those fucking People? Meeting them and … I don’t know … having to fight with them or something? In whatever the fuck astral fucking realm they’re all in? Christ!”
“It doesn’t make any—”
“Fuck all, Linda! She’s my little girl!” Tears welled up in his eyes and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.
Linda just sat quietly and let him feel. Her attention and acceptance was all she had to give him in this moment, and it seemed to be what he most needed anyway. She fished a Kleenex out of her purse to daub his face, letting her fingers come to rest on his twitching nose and cheek. After a while his face relaxed and his breathing slowed. Linda smiled warmly. “We’re going to stop them, Cole,” she said softly.
Cole returned her smile through the remnants of tears. “You fucking got that right, Mrs. President.” He flinched, looking quickly around the car to make sure nobody was listening. The few passengers in the lounge were reading their papers and books, paying them no attention. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Linda smiled. “We’re almost to Ottawa. Guy will help us. By the end of today, if I have my way, we’ll have brought this all public.”
Cole sighed. “Yeah, well, I hope you’re right about that. I hope you’re right.”
“I hope so too.”
Cole’s smile brightened. “I got to talk to both Emily and Iain. Iain’s up five pizzas now. And Emily’s joined forces with the security guards. She’s been peppering them with questions and they gave her an ID badge. Made her part of the team. She’s ecstatic.”
“I’m glad,” said Linda.
“Yeah.” Cole sat in silence for a moment. “Dad hasn’t heard anything from Obie.”
Linda shifted in her seat, stuffing the pillow between her hip and the armrest. “It was worth a shot,” she said.
“Yeah.”
Linda pointed to the duffle at Cole’s feet. “We got any fruit in there?” she asked.
Cole grabbed the bag, pulling it onto the seat next to him. “I don’t know. I know Keeley put some food in here.”
“I’m amazed we still have that bag. With the accident and all.”
“Yeah. Me too. I had the strap around my neck in the van, the bag in my arms. Ready to run, you know. When we went over it almost pulled my ears off. I didn’t realize I still had it until we were on the copter.” Cole fished in the duffle. Under the extra clothes and the maps was a plastic container. He lifted it out and pulled off the top. Inside were sandwiches and carrots and a couple of homemade cookies, but no fruit.
“What’s this?” Linda reached into the container and drew out a white envelope from underneath the sandwich. On the cover were two words, written in green ink in Keeley’s florid script: “for later.”
Linda placed the letter gently in her lap, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. Cole put down the container and reached out to take her hand. Glancing at Cole for support, Linda opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of notepaper. She unfolded and read it. As she read her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Keeley,” she sighed. She handed the letter to Cole.
Cornfed,
I don’t know where you are now. Whom you’re with. Where you’re headed. I only know that my love is dead by now, and my heart is in pieces.
I have to leave because if I don’t I’ll tear you apart, with anger that does not belong to you. And because if I stay I’ll stop you before you leave and tell you everything. And then you won’t go. And I can’t do that. I can’t fail you again. We have to go through with this, even though our help will come at the cost of my love.
Our mutual friend told me. That night, so long ago, when he told me you were coming. He told me my husband would die. And there was no hiding that from him. We both knew this was coming. But we’ve never known how or why or what. By now those details have no doubt been filled in. I don’t want to hear them.
I don’t know if or when I’ll go back home. That’s why I took the dogs. I’m gonna ditch your car and get a rental and head down to my sister’s. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger. But I’ve lived with this for more than six years now. I think that’s fucking strong enough.
Follow this through, Cornfed. I have no idea what this is all about. I don’t even know whom to hate. But my flesh already craves revenge, even though my sweet husband is still alive, down the hallway, going over the map with your traveling companion. I know I’ll see him again. I know that death is an illusion. But my body is going to have to live without him for the rest of its days. Please. Make that loss mean something.
I pray that this man you have found is still with you. He is yours now, you know. And you are his. You’ll realize that in time. I wish you both the love you deserve.
If, on your travels, you happen to run into a twelve-year-old boy with funny eyes and a pointy chin, give him a hug for me, and tell him that I love him.
I’ll see you again one day, my girl. Until then, you have my love.
Vinegar
Cole finished reading and put his arms around the President, hiding both the
ir faces in the embrace. Silently and together they sobbed as the train underneath beat its gentle rhythm. Eventually they ran out of tears.
10.6
“She didn’t use any real names,” said Linda.
“Yeah?” Cole sat watching the passing countryside. Linda leaned against him.
“Yeah. Like she didn’t know who’d see her letter.”
Cole sighed. Keeley was a smart one.
“I just can’t imagine it, Cole. I mean … Jesus. All that time they knew. How do you hold something like that?”
“I don’t know,” Cole replied. He kissed the top of Linda’s head, breathed in her smell. “I don’t know.”
“Jesus,” she said again.
An announcement came over the intercom system. They were coming to the Casselman stop. “That puts us maybe half an hour out of Ottawa,” Cole said. He began to think ahead. “What do I need to know about this Legrand?” he asked.
Linda sat up and stretched. “He’s a member of Parliament. Province of Ontario. In his thirties. He’s got a couple of young girls. Looks kind of like Tom Cruise. Nice hair.”
“How’d you meet him?”
“He came to find me. Back in … I think it was February. Not long after I moved into the White House. He was in D.C. with his girls, touring the museums. Turns out he’s married to one of Earl’s nieces. So he looked me up, used that connection to get a message through to me. He and the girls came in and we did the whole Oval Office thing.”
“And you said you saw him recently.”
Linda nodded. “Yeah. About ten days ago. He’d been in New York. A climate change meeting. Popped down to D.C. to stop in and say ‘Hi.’ Brought me some maple candy.”
Cole folded Keeley’s letter and put it back in the envelope, then slipped it into the pocket and zipped it tight. “He’s a good guy?”
“Yeah,” Linda nodded. “I think so. And he’s got that brother at the CBC.” She stood. “You ready?”
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