by Patten, Sean
It was enough to make me kill the rest of my wine.
“Someone’s thirsty,” said Nancy, topping up my glass.
“Haven’t had a drink since this all went down,” I said. “Kind of hitting the spot right now.”
My glass full again, Nancy set down the bottle on the table.
“No, drink up,” she said. “That’s what it’s here for. And we’ve got plenty more where that came from.”
I had another sip, letting the cool wine linger in my mouth before bringing it down in a swallow. God, between the wine and the shower I felt like a new man.
The HOA members went on, talking about music they grew up with and doing some other reminiscing, neither Amy or me getting a word in edgewise. After a ten or so minutes of this a loud buzzing sounded out from the kitchen, cutting through the conversation.
“Ah!” said Nancy, getting up. “Dinner’s ready!”
She and a few other women at the table rose and vanished into the kitchen. At the far end of the table David slapped his belly with two hands, the clapping echoing through the room.
“Great!” he said. “I sure am famished.”
“What’re they making in there?” asked one of the men at the table. “No electricity means no oven, right?”
“Oh,” said Bill. “Nancy and the other girls got all into it with this camping cookbook one of them had. They made some kind of soup and some sides with the canned veggies and fruits.”
My stomach growled at the mention of the food. Despite everything, my gut was getting the best of me, and all I could think about was eating.
Before too long the women returned, each of them carrying a dish or two. Once the food was on the table, Nancy went through what was there, my mouth watering as she announced creamy chicken dumpling soup, fruit cocktail, canned veggies, and bread to go with it all.
Holy hell, did it look good.
Slowly but surely, the food made its way around the table as I finished my second glass of wine. When my plate was loaded up, it was like Thanksgiving and Christmas all at once.
Sure, it was a waste—they should’ve been rationing this stuff instead of feasting on it. But I didn’t care. I was hungry as I’d ever been.
“Before we start,” said David. “I’d like to make a toast. Just a quick one—Ellen always told me that I had a tendency to ramble, so I’ll do you all a favor and keep things short. After all, we’ve got some new people here and I’m sure they’re all hungry after the day they’ve had. What they did took some guts, and they did it for the good of the community. Because it takes all kinds here at Sandy Vista, and without everyone doing their share and—”
He stopped, a warm smile forming on his face.
“There I go again.”
A few polite laughs sounded from the table.
“But in all seriousness,” David went on, “let’s raise a glass to Amy and her friend Ed. We’re happy to have them here, and I think I speak for all of us when I say I hope they’re here with us for a good long while. So, cheers!”
Everyone raised their glasses.
“Cheers!”
And that was that. We began eating, and it took all the restraint I had not to unhinge my jaw like some kind of wild animal and simply dump all the food down the hatch. The food was incredible, almost good enough to make me look past, if only for a short while, everything that was going on in Sandy Vista. Almost.
“So!” said Bill. “David, we’re all eager to hear about what you’ve got in mind for the next few weeks here in town. No pressure, of course.”
More polite laughs.
But the statement was enough to turn my attention away from the food. I really, really wanted to know what David had planned.
“Well,” said David, setting down his glass of wine and placing his big hands on the table. “I’m sure you’re all very curious about the subject. I’d initially planned on having another meeting in a few days to let you know what I had on my mind, but there’s no sense in making you wait, I suppose.”
“Especially if it keeps us out of that burning hot auditorium,” said one of the women, to the audible agreement of the rest of the dinner guests.
David smiled and nodded, then went into it.
“First thing’s first—” he said.
My mind raced with possibilities of what he was going to bring up. Would he talk about the likelihood of refugees arriving from Dead Air or Alban Falls? Was he going to mention the dwindling food and water? How about the fact that nearly everyone there was in their golden years and not fit for a fight, despite their arsenal of guns and ammo? Or hell, how about the disappearance of Amy’s mom?
“—We have got to get a handle on the lawn situation!” he said.
What?
Murmurs of agreement sounded from the table, the board signaling that they were on board with this subject.
“Folks,” David said. “Just because the power’s out doesn’t mean that we can start slacking when it comes to lawn care! Now, you all don’t need me to tell you how lucky our little community is for having some of the only green-grass lawns in the area. I fought hard for those, and I got them for you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“And what is it I told you all when I got the approval for those lawns? The same thing I say whenever anyone lets their grass get too unruly.”
The members regarded one another and smiled.
“With great lawns comes great responsibility,” they said in unison.
“There we go,” said David with a warm grin. “I’ve taught you all well.”
More laughs.
“So,” he said. “We’re going to need to get on it. I don’t believe anyone here is slacking, but some of you are living next to people who are. So, get on it! Let them know what their responsibilities are. Gently remind them, like a good neighbor should. Sandy Vista’s only as good as our bonds as neighbors, but more importantly, friends.”
“Maybe if we start collecting gas for the lawnmowers,” said Bill. “Those should still be running, right?”
Wait. Gas…for the mowers?
“Right,” said David. “Only electronic doodads are affected. So, when the weather gets a little cooler into the coming weeks we can start going through town and getting gas from whatever cars are there. Won’t be pretty work, but we’ve got a couple seasoned vets to show us how it’s done.”
He smiled and nodded in our direction. Amy appeared as stunned as I was, but we stayed silent.
“Okay,” said one of the men. “Then we’ll get on that. Last thing I want to see first thing in the morning is a damn unkempt lawn. Hell, I moved here from Tucson to get away from that kind of nonsense.”
“Easy, Steve,” said David. “We’ll get this under control.”
“And how about the golf course,” said one of the women. “Sure, it’s a little hot for golf right now, but what about later in the year? I don’t want to go out for a quick nine holes and see that the course is infested with weeds.”
Golf? This was getting to be too much. Even the food and the wine wasn’t enough to distract me from the bullshit I was hearing.
“Well,” said David. “We’ve still got the riding mowers. They’re gas guzzlers, sure, but they’ll get the job done.”
“Sure,” said another one of the men. “But there’s still the matter of who’s going to actually drive the damn things.”
“Right,” said Nancy. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m not too crazy about the idea of spending my afternoons driving a mower under the hot sun.”
“Maybe we can get someone from one of the other towns to help out?” asked Steve. “Give them a few cans of food for their trouble.”
One of the women shook her head.
“I don’t like the idea of inviting riffraff from some other town here. I moved to Sandy Vista to get away from…those types.”
“Well,” said David. “We’re going to have to figure out something. Otherwise it’s no golf for anyone.�
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It was all I could take. I slammed my hand down on the table, every set of eyes in the room clapping onto me.
“What the hell is the matter with you people?”
17 Ed
So much for keeping my cool.
“Excuse you, Ed?” asked David, his tone stern.
Out of the corner of my eye Amy looked on, as shocked as everyone else at the table. I realized I had a chance to pull back, to blame it on the wine or the heat or whatever else. But I didn’t. These people were living in a dream world, and someone needed to wake them up.
“Lawns? Golf?” I asked. “Do you people realize what’s going on out there?”
No one said a word, and I just kept going.
“I get that you’ve got that big wall and that big gate, but there’s some shit happening out there that would turn your hair white.”
A quick scan of the heads at the table revealed that this was already the case. But the point still stood.
“Hey,” said David. “Language.”
I blew past his words.
“You all are in for a rude fucking awakening,” I said. “And if I need to use a few bad words to make my point, then I’m gonna do it.”
“David,” said one of the women at the table. “Do something.”
“No, no,” said David, his steely eyes still fixed on me. “Our guest has some concerns about how we run things around here. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
David sat back, giving me the floor. But his expression stayed hard, his arms crossed over his chest.
“People are dying out there,” I said. “Right now, at this second. Alban Falls was a fucking nightmare, and Dead Air was the same way. Thousands of people dead over the course of a damn day. And it didn’t take long for evil men to take advantage of the chaos.
“I get it,” I went on. “You want to be safe and sound in here and pretend that it’s just a long power outage. But that’s not the case. Whether you like it or not the rest of the world’s going to come here and find you. And if you’re not ready, what they’re going to do when they see what kind of supplies you’re sitting on will make Dead Air look seem as relaxing as a three-day weekend.”
“But we have guns,” said one of the men. “If anyone finds us, we can fight them off.”
“Maybe,” I said. “For a time. But I’m going to give it to you straight. You all…”
I trailed off. Telling them they were totally in denial about the outside world was one thing, but laying it out how they were too feeble to put up any kind of a fight made me feel like I needed to bring out my inner diplomat.
“I don’t mean to be a prick,” I said.
“Too late for that,” Nancy muttered to Bill.
“But you all aren’t exactly spring chickens,” I went on. “I’ve seen what you’re up against, and you all wouldn’t put up much of a fight.”
The guests, seeming shocked by this, turned to one another and expressed their displeasure with my words.
“And not just that,” I said. “But even if you manage to hole up in here and slip under everyone’s radar…Tell me what the slogan is for this city? The one that’s on the sign.”
“‘Your oasis in the desert,’” Bill said dutifully.
“That’s right,” I said. “An oasis in the damn desert. This is the kind of place that just can’t exist without water and air-conditioning and food and medicine deliveries and all the other luxuries that went bye-bye for good when the power went out. You’re here talking about lawns and golf and all this other crap that doesn’t matter anymore, meanwhile you’re all living on borrowed time. Any of you have any plans for when you turn on your faucets and nothing comes out? When you realize that everything you know is about come cra—”
A bang sounded out, the silverware and glasses on the table rattling with the impact. I looked in the direction of the noise to see David, his eyes narrowed in an expression that was less “steely” and more “hateful,” his fist on the table.
“That’s enough,” he said. “I’m more than willing to let anyone at this table express his or her concerns about the future, but what you’re doing now is nothing more than reckless scaremongering.”
“‘Scaremongering’?” I repeated. “I’m telling these people here not what might happen, but what’s going to happen. Amy and I, we’re the only ones who’ve been through what’s going on out there, and if you were smart you’d be asking us how to prepare for what’s coming. But you’re not. You’re still worried about regulation grass length like any of that fucking matters.”
“Enough!”
David’s voice boomed through the dining room. Everyone was silent. He and I locked eyes, neither one of us wanting to lower our gaze.
His expression was different now. So far from him I’d seen two personalities—the cool, in-control man with the gun, and the warm, congenial HOA president. But this was something different. This was harder, angrier. In the midst of the tension I found myself wondering what he might do if it had just been me and him, with no witnesses.
“You’re a stranger,” he said. “An outsider.”
The two words dripped with venom, as if they were the most awful things David could imagine.
“You helped one of our own, and we appreciate that,” he went on. “But you’re not one of us, and you never will be. In spite of all that, we’ve been kind enough to let you into our community. And this is how you repay us.”
He shook his head sadly before taking a sip of his wine, letting his words hang in the air. No one at the table seemed to know what to say. Even Amy was struck still and silent.
“We invite you to break bread with us,” David said, “and all you do is frighten the good people of this community. Now, I understand that you’ve been through some rough stuff out there, and it’s colored your perception of how people can be. But let me assure both you and everyone else here, that Sandy Vista is different.”
He allowed himself his first smile since I’d gone off, shaking his head as if he’d remembered some charming bit of information.
“But you all know that already, right? You know that Sandy Vista’s different. That’s why you’re all here, that’s what’s brought us all together.”
His eyes moved around the table, connecting with everyone there. His gaze flashed hard and hot for a moment when his eyes met mine before softening as he moved on.
“The rest of the world, it’s not for us. And as I’ve said, just because the power’s gone out that doesn’t change a damn thing. Sandy Vista is our oasis in the desert, and I’m going to see to it personally that nothing about that changes.”
Expressions softened around the table as David’s words worked their magic.
“Now,” he said, turning his attention back to me. “Ed. You’ve had a hard couple of days, and I’m sure that finding some comfort and hospitality has been something of an adjustment—like a stray pup who’s seen a hard life and nips at the fingers of his new owners before getting settled in. So, I’m willing to look past this little outburst.”
My gaze swept around the table, and I got the sense that everyone there was hoping I’d take David up on his offer. I wanted to keep going, to do whatever I could to convince them that their lives were in danger. But I sensed that there was no point in it. What David offered them was too enticing, too potent.
And if there was any doubt left about the matter, a hard jab into my leg from Amy’s direction made her thoughts on the subject clear. I doubt she agreed with David, but she likely realized that me keeping at it wasn’t going to do any good.
“So,” said David. “What do you say, Ed? You ready to put your cares aside, if just for one night?”
I paused for a long moment before responding.
“Sure,” I said. “I will.”
Sounds of relief sounded throughout the room.
“Excellent,” said David with another one of his warm smiles. “Just what I was hoping you’d say.”
The guests went back t
o their meals, eating and drinking in silence and seeming to hope that the tension of the last few minutes would pass.
Finally, Amy cleared her throat and spoke up.
“Um, anyway,” said Amy. “What with you all being here, I was wondering if any of you all knew what happened with my mom?”
David appeared confused as he tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it into his soup.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “We’ve been over this already. She went to LA to look for you.”
“I know,” said Amy. “I got that. But I was wondering, I guess, if maybe anyone here had any information about her plans. I mean, I still don’t know how she left, and if anyone actually saw her go.”
She looked away for a moment before going on, as if something else had occurred to her.
“It’s so weird,” she said. “Like, how there was that half-eaten apple in the kitchen just lying there. Mom could be a little bit messy when it came to putting away clothes and stuff like that, but she was always totally nuts about not leaving any food out. Just setting down an apple and leaving is, I don’t know, unlike her.”
Amy shook her head. “All seems so strange.”
David finished chewing before setting his hands down on the table.
“Bill,” he said. “You know what happened to Lori?”
“Sure,” he said. “She left for LA to look for you, Amy.”
David nodded, as if pleased with the answer.
“But…that’s weird, too,” said Amy. “She and I hadn’t really been on the best of terms, but she always kept up on where I’d be with the band. And there’s no way she didn’t know that I was playing Dead Air. And even if I weren’t on tour, she’d know that my apartment would be the last place to find me. So why would she go there? Nothing about it makes sense.”
More silence. I didn’t say a thing, waiting to see how David was going to handle this one.
