“Let’s go see what they bought,” my dad said, looking over at Mike. “Your husband isn’t lookin’ too happy right now. I hope my junk pile keeps him occupied.”
“Me, too,” I said. I didn’t know if Mike would have enough to do to fill his time, making being busy his goal everyday. Always with something to do and places to go, Mike drove us nuts with his nervous energy.
“I can see he’s already getting antsy,” Steve replied. I shrugged my shoulders; deciding finding Mike meaningful activity was not my responsibility.
As we approached the van, I saw immediately that something was wrong. My daughters were hovering over a form in the back; Kelly leaned over the front seat, helping them in back. Steve noticed, too and we picked up our pace, running toward them.
I opened the door and Carin turned to us, crying. “We found him. There was a burn.”
“What do you mean a burn?” Steve asked.
“The same thing they’re doing at home, they’re doing here.”
“We saw it, block after block, down to the ground, just like the farm,” Kelly said.
“Who is it?” I asked. There was a smell in the van that I didn’t want to dwell on; it reminded me of homeless people, unwashed, ill.
“He’s a pilot. We saw the tail of the plane sticking out of a house. Then Elise saw him. He was lying in the street; like that body was back in St. Louis.”
I looked carefully at Carin; she’d seen the same awful thing I had. I nudged past my girls to get a closer look. “How’d you get him in the car?”
“He can walk with help,” Elise said. “His name is Chris. Chris Monroe.”
“Move out, ladies and I’ll help him up.” My dad was taking charge and I was glad to relinquish control to him for a change. This could not have a beneficial outcome. If they were burning here, what was the point of running to Arizona?
“Well there goes the excuse of burning against a virus from Hurricane Sandy,” Steve said, uncovering the man. I was shocked when he stood up; he was just a kid. We moved aside, trying to help my dad while Carin ran to the field to tell Mike and corral the boys somewhere out of sight. Our spacious new digs suddenly seemed too small.
We moved him toward the house just as Mike joined us.
“He needs medical care,” he said, looking the young man over after mouthing I’m sorry to me.
“We need to find an underground hospital,” Kelly said. “We wanted to take him to an ER but he refused.”
“If they’re burning here, the hospital is probably already gone, like it was back east,” I said, motioning for Mike to follow me back outside.
“What is it?” he asked, clearly concerned, thinking.
“We need to move on from here,” I said.
“I gathered that. Let’s go back inside so I can question him.” He turned and left me on the deck. I went to the door and called for Elise, but she was occupied with Chris. Carin came to the screen.
“Mom, I’m worried about this. Why’d we come here if the same thing is happening? We’re no safer here then we were back east.”
“Come out here please.” She stepped out onto the deck and fell against me. My children suddenly needing me again scared me. “Tell me what happened?”
“We were driving, trying to find a store that was open, and like Kelly said, we saw this burned out neighborhood. It was a trailer court. But Kelly wanted to see more, so she turned down a side street.” Hearing this made me angry. Why would she risk my kid’s safety? Quickly learning to prioritize, I decided not to say anything to her because they were okay now. But in the future, she wouldn’t be put in the position to make decisions about my girls.
“How’d he end up in the car?” I was unable to keep an angry tone out of my voice.
“We stopped and helped him, Mom. We couldn’t just leave him there in the street. He refused to go the hospital, saying that he’d get in a lot of trouble if his dad found out he crashed the plane and didn’t complete his mission. That was the word he used. Mission.”
“Did he know he might be killing innocent people?”
“No, I don’t think so. He was talking about the virus. ‘We have to eradicate the virus.’ He said this area is vulnerable because the farm workers lack of health care will be prime for spreading the disease.” Chilling words, my heart was pounding. Of course, a large commercial production farm would be a target! What were we thinking? My father was confident that whoever was responsible for the burns would spare food-producing areas. It appeared he was wrong.
“Let’s go inside,” I said, looking over my shoulder. All I wanted to do was to run from Tulip.
Chapter 7
It was after midnight and Victor Garrison knew from experience that once he woke up in this state of mind, sleep would not return for hours. It was usually his most productive work time, with no distractions from Katherine or emails or phones. Sliding out of bed, he glanced over at Katherine. The day had been hell for her, waiting for the return of Miranda’s body.
“I want to see her for myself,” she said. Although Victor worried about the consequences, he was relieved that in twenty-four hours, they’d made the decision to forgo a funeral and have a small memorial for friends and family. Whoever could have a throwdown for her in Washington, D.C., if they wanted to.
Not bothering to turn on lights, he crept down the staircase, listening for the other children, Lexie snoring. She didn’t go back to school, deciding to sit out the rest of the semester, the trauma of the home invasion still giving her nightmares. Their son, Danny arrived home from Michigan as soon as he heard the news, but was out with friends in spite of the sadness. Katherine had encouraged him to go.
“Why hang around, miserable? Go. We don’t need you to hold our hands.” Victor was proud of her and supported her, waving him off.
Lexie was a different story. Paralyzed by what had happened to her the evening of their Sunday dinner, she hadn’t left the house since. A double whammy, he was guilty for both Miranda’s murder and Lexie’s traumatization. Grateful that Katherine wasn’t blaming him, he knew it was just a matter of time before she woke up out of her trance and unloaded on him.
The liquor was in the dining room, so he went there to pour himself a scotch. The streetlights usually cast a dim yellow light over this room, but tonight it was so black he had to switch a light on, bending over to look out the window first. The light was out. And then when he flipped the switch, nothing happened. A strong hand pressed over his mouth and an arm got him in a chokehold, strong enough to pull him off his feet. The choking sensation was so painful; he wet himself a little bit, but was able to stop it before he soaked his pajama bottoms.
Dragged through the dining room, across the hall to his office he didn’t struggle or try to yell, afraid the noise would alert Katherine or Lexie. His tongue rammed against his teeth, the pain was awful and he started gagging, the assailant easing up. “Puke on me and you’re a dead man,” he growled. Once inside his office, a flashlight went on and his beautiful daughter, Miranda was standing in front of him, smoothing his cheeks with her hands.
“Daddy, Daddy,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. Let him go, Alex.” Strong hands that hurt released him, gently holding on to his arms, offering tender support as Victor tried not to collapse under the shock of discovering she was alive. It wasn’t easy. He stifled a sob as he grabbed her, holding her to his chest.
“Mandy, you’re alive,” he whispered, unbelieving. “What happened?”
“First, you need to promise me you are going to stay calm. Promise me, Daddy.”
“I promise,” Victor replied.
“You need to go upstairs and get Mommy now, quickly. We haven’t much time. Get her and Lexie. They need to dress and get down here right away. Danny is already out in the truck, waiting. Go now.” Victor paused long enough to notice the man who’d grabbed him from behind was no longer there. Miranda turned off the light and stood in the darkness.
Running up the stairs, Victor went to
Lexie’s room first. He gently shook her.
“Lexie, Lexie, wake up,” he said urgently. He put his hand gently over her mouth and whispered, “Shhh.”
“Lexie, Mandy is alive. She is waiting downstairs for us. You mustn’t say a word. Get dressed right away and get down to my office. Do you hear what I’m saying?” He looked at her terrified eyes, and she nodded her head.
“I’m going to wake up your mother now, so I need you to do as I ask.” He moved his hand away and she nodded, understanding after what she’d been through, this seemed like a natural next step. He left without saying anything further, hopeful she’d follow his orders.
Katherine wasn’t going to be as easy. She struggled against his hand. “What are you talking about?”
“Just keep it down, dear. If the neighbors hear anything and call the police, Miranda could really be in trouble. She’s waiting for you, so you need to come now.”
“Miranda’s downstairs?” Victor nodded his head.
“Danny’s waiting out in their car. Hurry,” he whispered. Pulling his jeans on over his damp underpants, he grabbed a shirt and his wallet, wondering if they were leaving for good, if he should take a toothbrush, or tell Katherine to bring her make up bag.
Lexie was already on the stairs, running toward her sister. The reunion was heartbreaking, both girls holding each other, but in minutes when Katherine appeared and had her turn, they were pushed out the door. Miranda had his laptop already.
“The only reason I’m taking this is because of that email,” she said. “The one with the Winston Clarke video.” The unspoken words, in case your house survives.
“Are we coming back?” Katherine asked.
Miranda shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mom, no.” They got into the back of the van. Victor assumed the man driving or the one in the passenger seat was the same man who’d grabbed him from behind. There was no one else with them. Katherine was hugging Danny and they were whispering as the van pulled out of the driveway with the lights off. Miranda was sitting with Victor and Lexie, apologizing for causing them worry and heartache.
“How did it happen? We got a call saying you were dead,” Katherine said. “It’s in all the papers.”
“I’ll answer all your questions in time. Right now, the less you know about me, the better. No one is looking for me now.” She didn’t add because they have a body carrying her library card.
“Won’t they begin to wonder if we suddenly disappear?” Miranda shook her head.
“Mom, you just have to trust me. I’m so sorry. You’ll see, okay? It won’t be long.” The words had just left her mouth, suspended in air when a blast rocked the van.
“Fuck!” driver Ed yelled.
“Drive faster,” Alex shouted. Victor and the others twisted around in their seats to see what had happened and it was too much for Katherine who cried out, “Oh god! What was that?” The others demanding an explanation, Miranda shrugged her shoulders. What could she say that would mollify them?
A police car, lights whirling, sped past, ignoring the black van. Victor poked his daughter in the arm. “You told me that our neighborhood wouldn’t be burned.” Miranda looked at her wailing mother, and then back to her father.
“I guess I was wrong.”
Chapter 8
Victor Garrison shifted in his seat, his neck stiff and mouth dry. “Are you sure I can’t help with the driving? I feel like my can is growing to the vinyl.” Alex looked in the rearview mirror and grinned.
“I’ve got it covered for now. This car is not comfortable for long a trip, that’s for sure.” They’d been driving for hours, winding back and forth through detours necessary because of the destruction of the interstate.
“This mess was not expected,” Ed Baker said, taking a break from driving. “Informants be damned, supposedly the road system would remain intact, and we can see that is not what happened.”
“I guess the powers that be want to keep us in our place,” Miranda said. “They hoped we’d burrow in and wait for the bombs to drop. Instead, people are fleeing. The next best thing is to disrupt their journey by fucking up the roads.”
“Miranda, do you mind?” Katherine Garrison said from the backseat.
“Sorry, mother. But I’m afraid fucked up language will be the least of your problems in the future.”
“I wonder why they just don’t drop a bomb on the traffic jams of people fleeing,” Alex said. “Seems like it might be easier.”
“Watch. That’ll be next,” Ed said.
Katherine Garrison was finally coming out of shock, seething. Slow-burning anger at her daughter replaced the amazement that not only were they fleeing for their lives, but the home she’d built for the past twenty five years had blown up right before her eyes. It was intentional; their house singled out. Victor kept telling her they were lucky to be out, that street by street, the area might be annihilated, the other residents not given fair warning as they had been. Katherine couldn’t help blaming Miranda, who made as much sense with her ridiculous conversation, as if they were living a science fiction nightmare.
The first night on the run, as Miranda and her two tough-guy boyfriends kept referring to what they were doing, they only stopped once for twenty minutes at a roadside rest area to use the bathroom. One of the men was always looking around with his gun drawn while the other one drove. The major highways blocked with piles of concrete, or bridges out, or burnout cars; they’d have to back up and turn around and find an alternative route, ending up taking twelve hours to drive what would normally had taken six. As daylight loomed, Katherine was horrified at what she saw around her; mile after mile of devastation. It was just starting to click for Katherine; Miranda might be on to something.
“I don’t understand,” she said repeatedly, crying. “Who did this? Why?” Victor tried to explain it to her the first day, but it was beyond comprehension. She trusted the government; it had provided a profitable living for her husband, an honest, loyal man. He’d never agree to all the destruction, so for him to say the government did it just didn’t make any sense.
“But why?” she asked over again. “What does it accomplish?”
“If we had the time, I’d love to show you the areas that weren’t burned,” Miranda said. “Wherever the wealthy live, the houses stand.”
“But what about our neighborhood?” she cried.
“Except for our house,” Miranda said. “Your punishment for having a rebel for a daughter.”
“Well, thank you so much!” Katherine hollered. “Couldn’t you have gotten a job, or found a husband like the other girls in your class? Why upset the apple cart? For what?”
Miranda turned away. Maybe her mother didn’t get it, not yet. They’d zig-zagged for another day before coming to Ed Baker’s mother’s house just outside of Atlanta. Dunwoody was a lovely enclave of homes.
“I guess I’m surprised it’s still standing,” Ed said, pulling into the driveway. “She’ll certainly be shocked to see me. Wait here and I’ll break the news that she’s entertaining tonight.” Ed got out of the car and walked up the path to the front door. He didn’t open it and go in, as Katherine had expected him to, but knocked and waited. Soon, a slender woman with curly salt and pepper hair opened the door. They could hear her cry of delight when she saw her son standing before her, with smiles and laughter, quickly changing to concern when he told her about the six people who were waiting to recover from a trip from hell.
They watched as he jumped off the porch and waved them in. “She’s okay, it took her a minute to understand but we’ll clue her in and it will be fine.”
Victor looked at Katherine and shrugged his shoulders as they got out of the car. Introductions took place, but he couldn’t remember who was who, the conversation swirling around him. He hoped he wasn’t having a stroke. Then it occurred to him that he hadn’t had any alcohol in forty-eight hours; perhaps the reason he was so disconnected.
Feeling like a dishrag, hours before he’d put himse
lf into a state of suspended animation when he realized the situation was completely out of his control, going with the flow, taking the punches as they came. The most difficult thing was seeing death. He’d grabbed Lexie’s head and pulled her into a bear hug so she couldn’t see the first burn they came to outside of D.C. Bodies were piled up everywhere, along the gutter, in the doorways of shops, hanging out of open car doors. Katherine seemed not to notice, as if she were in a trance. The smell was overwhelming, acrid and putrid at the same time. Danny retched and continued to heave until they got outside of town, but the smell lingered in their hair and clothes. Ed’s mother; Mrs. Baker, delicately put a tissue up to her nose.
“Sorry mother, we need clothes and baths. Can you help us out?”
“I have things for the ladies,” she said, her Georgia accent not quite able to cover her repulsion. “For the men, there might be something in Frank’s old room.”
“My brother,” Ed explained. “Let’s go upstairs, shall we? Mother, can we use your bathroom, too?” The Garrisons followed Ed up the steep staircase to the upper floor, and the men went off in one direction while the women followed Mrs. Baker into her room.
The soft colors and old-fashioned floral fabrics reminded Katherine of her mother’s house in Roanoke. The memories and the stress, the bad smells and exhaustion were too much for her, and she gave in, starting to cry. Miranda went to her immediately.
“Mother, I’m so sorry,” she said softly, putting her arms around her. Mrs. Baker stood by patiently, confused. It was apparent these people had been through something terrible, but she didn’t know what.
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