by Patten, Sean
“After the meeting,” he said, his tone gruff.
“No, now,”
I opened up the fridge and had a look. There wasn’t much in there, and I didn’t want to take my chances with anything that might’ve been spoiled.
Towards the back I spotted a loaf of bread that appeared untouched, along with some lunch meat and sliced cheddar cheese. After gathering that up, I snatched a bottle of mustard from the fridge shelf and piled it all onto the counter.
“Sandwiches,” I said. “Now sit down and let me make them.”
Ed opened his mouth to protest, but as soon as he caught sight of the food I could tell his body was taking over the thinking for him.
“Fine,” he said. “Just…don’t make any fuss about it.”
I laughed. “Sure. I’ll leave the panini press in the cupboard.”
“Smart-ass,” he said with a good-natured grin.
He sat down and I went to it, making some simple sandwiches of turkey and cheese and mustard, topping them with a little dill before cutting them diagonally and placing them on plates.
“Eat up,” I said. “There’s more where that came from.”
I needn’t have said anything—by the time I sat down Ed was already halfway through the sandwich, the plate covered in crumbs where the first half had been.
“Glad you like it,” I said with a small smile.
He stopped midway through another bite, apparently realizing that he was eating like an animal. But that was all right with me—after what Ed had been through he was more than entitled to a pig-out.
I took a few bites of my own sandwich, washing it down with some warm water. When I saw that Ed was just about done, I decided to get a jump on the situation by preparing another sandwich.
“Oh, no,” he said, getting up. “I can do it.”
“Sit down, big guy,” I said. “You’re not wasting any calories unless I say so.”
I gave him another smile, one that he returned.
“Fine, fine,” he said, dropping back down into his seat. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”
“And don’t you forget it,” I said.
Right as I started on sandwich number two, however, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, as Ed got up.
“Hey,” I said. “What did I said about sitting down.”
“Shit,” he said, leaving the kitchen and stepping into the living room. “Might have to take that food to go.”
I set down the kitchen knife and went over to where he was standing near the window. Before I had a chance to ask him what he was looking at, the question was answered.
Outside of the window, dozens of people, all of them in their sixties and seventies, were making their way down the road in loose clusters, all heading in the same direction.
“Looks like the meeting’s starting,” Ed said.
I glanced up at the sun, seeing that it wasn’t yet dead-center in the sky above.
“We’ve still got thirty minutes,” I said.
“You know how the old folks are,” he said. “Always like to get an early start on things.”
I sighed, realizing that the day was starting, whether I was ready for it or not.
“So much for that shower.”
9 Ed
I finished the last bit of my sandwich as we stepped into the community center.
“You ready for this?” I asked Amy.
“Guess I have to be,” she said. “Only way we’re going to get any answers.”
“Right,” I said. “And, uh, thanks for the breakfast.”
She gave me a faint, but warm smile.
“No problem.”
“The dill really added something extra.”
She chuckled. “Let’s do this.”
I nodded, and we were off.
The first thing that hit me in the community center was the incredible heat. It made sense—the place had been baking in the sun for the last few hours, and without air-conditioning it was oven-bake hot. A minute inside the place was enough for a thin film of sweat to form on my forehead.
However bad it was for me, it had to be worse for the old folks, but if the heat bothered them, they didn’t show it. Instead, they shot skeptical, hostile glances in me and Amy’s direction that made it clear we weren’t welcome.
“I can already tell this is going to be fun,” Amy muttered.
“No kidding,” I said.
Not sure where to go, I followed the shuffling crowd of retirees through the entrance hall, eventually passing through a huge set of open double doors that led into a big, dome-roofed auditorium. The place had enough seats for hundreds, but only the first few rows were full. I did a quick headcount, and figured there were only around fifty people in the entire place. Light streamed into the room through rectangular windows along the tops of the walls.
David was there too, dressed in a black T-shirt and dark jeans, the sleeves of his shirt straining against his muscles. He watched the procession with his typical steely glare, as if making sure none of the AARP crew in attendance got up to any mischief.
He stood, and his two friends Paul and Jerry were on stage with him, seated in a pair of red plastic chairs. In the light of day, without their gear on, I could make out just how unfit they were. David was in great shape, sure, but he was the exception. Most of the people there looked like a few years of retirement had done their thing; I doubted most of them could run a mile if their lives depended on it.
Then again, with the bum ticker of mine it wasn’t like I could talk.
The residents settled into their seats, not wasting any time starting in with complaints about how damn hot it was in there. Normally, the elderly whining about temperature would have annoyed me. But in this case, I was right there with them.
“All right,” said David, his deep voice taking advantage of the acoustics and booming through the space. “Everyone, let’s get seated and get this thing started.”
“David,” called out one of the men in attendance. “Any chance we can have this meeting outside? It’s hotter than the devil’s asshole in here!”
A few people in the crowd shouted “yeah!” and “come on!” in response. Amy and I took seats a row or two back from the crowd, and my back was already sticky with sweat. It was miserable.
“All right, all right,” David repeated. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But we’re in the desert, remember.”
“Can’t we have this meeting outside?” asked a nearby woman. “Where it’s a little cooler?”
“No,” said David. “The community center’s the designated location for our meetings. The power going out doesn’t mean protocol is any different.”
Groans sounded out from the crowd as Amy and I shared a knowing look.
“Real stickler for the rules, this guy,” I murmured.
“Always been that way,” she said. “Sleepovers with his daughters felt more like boot camp than anything else.”
“Now!” David said. “I know it’s hot, so I’m not going to keep you. But we’ve got some matters we all need to discuss. I’m sure you all will agree with me on that score.”
The chatter in the crowd died down as they all seemed to collectively realize that David was right, that there were more important things at hand than the uncomfortable heat.
David let silence hang in the air for several long moments, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his pants.
“I’ve been the president of the Sandy Vista homeowner’s association for ten years,” he said. “And never once have I regretted taking the position. And I’d like to think over this time that I’ve earned your trust, that I’ve become someone you believe is capable of leading you through thick and thin.”
He let one hand drop to his side. A small smile appeared on his face, and he shook his head in almost amused disbelief.
“You know, when you all voted me into this position, I figured the most I’d be responsible for would be making sure Michael Parr’s hedges didn’t get too wild, or
that the Silversteins’ kids didn’t install that basketball hoop in the street that they’d been pestering their parents for.”
A few chuckles sounded through the crowd.
“But…it doesn’t look like we live in that world anymore,” he went on. “Two days ago, everything changed. And it changed in a way that none of us could’ve been prepared for. When the lights went out, the world we all knew ended. Gone. Possibly for good. But just because the lights are out, that doesn’t mean that the bonds we share as a community have been broken. In fact, the opposite is true. It means that we have to become tighter, to stand together against the new world, and whatever dangers it might bring.”
Now the crowd was totally silent, and I got the impression his words were exactly what they wanted to hear.
“We have our desert,” said David. “And we have our walls. But they’re not going to be enough. Eventually the outside world will find its way to Sandy Vista. And when it does, we have to be ready for it. We are going to be ready for it.”
I could feel the energy in the room build as he spoke.
“Sandy Vista, you trusted me before. And now I’m here, asking you to continue your trust. Together, we’ve built an oasis in the desert. And together, we’ll make it a paradise!”
David raised his fist into the air, cheers sounding out from the small crowd.
They were nice words, not going to lie. If I were some retiree holed up in a subdivision while this was all going down I was sure I’d be ready to stand behind any man or woman who threatened to keep the outside world at bay. And maybe if I had an army of Davids looking out for me, it’d be a possibility.
But there was only one David. One David and maybe two dozen men, men whose physical primes were long behind them. Sure, maybe they had guns and training, but that’d mean nothing if, say, the Black Mountain Mob moved in and decided that Sandy Vista would make the perfect new base camp for their operation.
Sooner or later, the outside world was coming. And eventually, it would find its way in.
David raised his hand, the stern expression still on his face.
“Now,” he said. “It’s time to move onto other matters.”
Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Amy stood up.
“Yeah,” she said. “Like where my mom is!”
The entire crowd turned around to see who’d spoken up, their eyes settling on Amy, then down to me.
“Everyone,” David said. “For those of you who haven’t heard, we have a former Sandy Vista resident who’s come back to see us.”
He paused, as if remembering something, then continued. “Then again, no one’s really a ‘former’ resident. Why don’t you tell them who you are, kiddo?”
But the chatter in the crowd suggested that they knew. It’s not like that much time had passed.
“It’s…it’s me,” Amy said. “Amy Hendricks.”
Pleased sounds erupted from the crowd, a few nearby hands shooting to Amy and grabbing her hands.
“I think I speak for everyone when I say that it’s great to see Amy back,” David said. “From what I hear, the circumstances that led her to us were…less than ideal. But the important thing is that she’s home.”
Then, almost all at once, every pair of eyes in the place fell right onto me, their soft expressions hardening.
“And she brought a friend with her,” said David. “A man I want you all to meet.”
Oh, great. I knew what this meant. The spotlight was about to be all on me.
The last damn thing I wanted.
10 Ed
David made an “up, up” gesture with his hand.
Guess I wasn’t getting out of this one.
“Ed,” he said. “Why don’t you get up and introduce yourself?”
Ah, shit. I was good at a lot of things, but public speaking wasn’t one of them. Didn’t look like there was any way to get out of this, though.
Still tired, still worn-the-hell-out, I heaved myself out of my seat.
“Uh,” I said, feeling the gaze of several dozen pairs of eyes on me. “Name’s Ed, Ed Mack. I’m, er, I was a maintenance guy over at Dead Air until all this shit, er, stuff went down.” I gestured to Amy. “This girl saved my life. Didn’t have to, but she did. My friend died right in front of me and she made sure I didn’t join him.”
I paused, realizing I should probably move away from the morbid stuff. “Anyway. I promised I’d get her here to her mother, and that’s what I did. And if you’d all be so kind as to give me a little time to get my bearings, I’ll be on my way and out of your hair before too long. Thank you.”
There was some scattered applause, but for the most part I could tell that no one there was really sure what to make of me. After all, they were all pretty white-bread, upper-middle-class types. Even when I was doing the wife-kids-house thing I was still on the working-class side of things. These folks, maybe they were nice, but they weren’t my people.
And I wasn’t one of theirs.
“My mom, Lori Hendricks,” Amy said once I’d sat back down. “Where is she?”
“We told you, kiddo,” said David. “She went to find you. And you’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you want to wait for her, of course. It’s your home just as much as hers.”
Amy opened her mouth to speak, but David raised his hand again.
“Listen,” he said. “It’s hot as hell in here, and I’m sure we’re all eager to get back home and take a breather. Me and the men and women on the committee are going to have a little secondary meeting at my place to figure out the next steps for the community. Until then, I want you all to sit tight and try to relax. Hell, maybe even enjoy yourselves, check out the community center library.”
He jokingly gave a pointed throat-clearing. “The library that I had installed, by the way.”
David flashed a smile, and a few light laughs sounded out from the crowd.
“Anyway,” he said. “You all get going. And leave the hard stuff up to me. That’s what I’m here for!”
With that, the meeting was over, and not a second too soon—I’d damn-near sweated through my T-shirt.
But the crowd wasn’t ready to let me and Amy go that easily. A handful of them gathered around as us we left, all of them eager to both welcome Amy home and shoot some skeptical looks in my direction.
“Now, Ed,” said one of them, an older woman who looked to be on the far end of her seventies. “It’s good that you brought Amy back.”
“But if you want to stay,” said another, a short, balding old guy in a sweat-stained yellow polo. “You’re going to have to earn your keep around here. That’s how things work in Sandy Vista.”
“Appreciate it,” I said. “But like I said, I’m just here to make sure Amy’s in good hands, maybe grab a good night’s rest, and then be on my way.”
“Where you headed?” another one of the old-timers asked.
“Got a ranch a few hours away. Got supplies and everything else I need. Figure I’ll hole up there and see how these next few weeks shake out.”
The conversation didn’t get to go any further before David trotted over and got himself into the middle of it.
“Ed,” he said. “I was planning on introducing you to the rest of the HOA committee, but it looks like you beat me to it.”
He waved his hand towards the small gathering of men and women in their sixties and seventies.
“These fine folks are, along with me, responsible for making sure everything runs perfectly here at Sandy Vista.”
Amy tensed up at the presence of the group, and I could sense that she might not have been on the best terms with some of them.
“In fact…” said David.
Uh-oh, I thought.
“Why don’t you come this way,” he said, gesturing away from the crowd. “I’ve got something I want to chat with you about.”
He put his big arm around my shoulders and began to lead me away.
“Wait,” said Amy. “Anything you want to
talk with Ed about, you can say in front of me. Consider me his sponsor—we all need one of those for any guests, right? Well, I’m his. So that means anything that’s his business, is my business too.”
David appeared to be hesitating.
“It’s in the rules, right?” Amy pressed. “Right there in the book.”
That did it.
“Fine,” David said. “Both of you, come on.”
I slipped out from under his arm as he walked with us out of the auditorium and towards a small office off the main hallway. Once we were all inside, he shut the door and took a seat on the edge of the desk.
“What the committee said,” he said. “About earning your keep…”
“Like I told you,” I said. “I’m here to drop off Amy and recharge and that’s it. I don’t blame you for not wanting outsiders around, and I’m not planning on giving you anything to worry about.”
David nodded, but appeared almost worried.
“What is it, David?” asked Amy.
He looked away for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You want to leave?” he asked. “That’s fine, it’s a free country. That is, if there’s even still country out there. You brought Amy back to us, and that’s more than enough as far as I’m concerned. But…”
“But…” Amy echoed, clearly sensing there was more.
“You saw what the men and women in there are like,” David said.
“Old?” I said. “Like, really old?”
“That’s one way to put it,” he said. “But I prefer to think of them as being in their golden years. Anyway, there’s something that needs doing, and Ed, I think you’re the only one here up to the task.”
“And what’s that?”
“Alban Falls. You’ve heard of it?”
“Sure,” I said. “Town a little further down the road. Little bigger than this place.”
“Right,” he said. “You said you worked Dead Air—that means you’d be familiar. Many of our residents are on medication, medication they need to simply get through the day.”
“I’ll bet,” I said.
David nodded knowingly. “Normally, we get a pretty regular shipment in to keep them in good supply. But the day before yesterday was the day we were set to get in our biannual shipment of medication…”
