Fireworks

by James A. Moore

  Karen ran her fingers through her hair and decided the shower could wait a few hours. In a matter of minutes she was dressed in a new pair of jeans and an oversized tee shirt. She paused long enough to brush her teeth, and then she bolted down the stairs to see exactly what the Danskys had cooked up for her this time. Maurice smiled, and gestured for her to have a seat as he flipped something over in the frying pan. "Good morning, Karen! I hope you're in the mood for omelets." His Northern accent was rapidly becoming as familiar to Karen as the sound of Joan's nasal voice raised in what passed for singing. Joan was always singing, but at least Karen knew how to block out that particular noise.

  "If you're cookin' them, Maurice, I'm always in the mood." Maurice smiled, bowing to reveal the sunburnt top of his balding head.

  "You better believe he's cooking today, honey. This heat has made me into a limp noodle." Joan smiled as she spoke, making the cigarette in her mouth move in patterns that were as complex as human genetic codes. Joan was a constant source of amazement for Karen. One moment the woman was humming and happy, the next she was raising her voice in complaint about the weather, her physical condition, or even about Maurice. How Maurice could take the abuse with a smile was something Karen doubted she would ever understand.

  Maurice set a coffee cup down in front of her and filled it almost to the rim, just barely leaving enough room for Karen to add cream and Equal. Karen smiled her thanks and tried to convince her stomach to remain calm for a few more minutes. She needn't have bothered. By the time she'd finished stirring her coffee, Maurice had set a piping hot western-style omelet in front of her, along with French toast and maple syrup. "Maurice, I'm gonna get fat if you keep cooking like this." The protest was half-hearted at best.

  "Karen, you could not get fat if you had to. My daughter should be so skinny."

  "What he said," added Joan. "You should see how that girl puts on weight. She's like an elevator; one minute she's up in weight, the next she's down."

  "So who can blame her with that husband of hers?" Maurice piped in a complaint about his son-in-law, which was the only subject he ever complained about. "The no-good bum couldn't hold down a decent job if his very life depended. She only loses the weight because he can't afford to put bread on her table."

  In an effort to change the subject, Karen brought up the bacon she now tasted in her omelet. "I hope you folks didn't buy this bacon just for me, I don't want to inconvenience you."

  "Inconvenience us?" Joan piped up. "Darling, without you we'd be living in the streets right now. You couldn't inconvenience us if you demanded a song and dance number with every meal."

  "Besides," Maurice added. "It's turkey bacon. The miracles of modern science never cease. Guilt-free bacon, be still my heart." He clutched at his heavy chest and looked to the heavens with a lopsided grin. Karen couldn't help but smile.

  "I was glad to take you folks into my house. It's certainly big enough, and with all the people on the streets and the soldiers with their guns, I'm glad for the company."

  "A girl your age doesn't need company. She needs to get herself a good husband instead." Joan crushed out her cigarette and shook her head, he mouth once again set in a slightly hostile frown. "If we were in New York right now, I'd introduce you to my nephew, Richie. He's a wonderful boy and a fabulous provider. You'd like him." She beamed with pride as she continued. "He's a medical malpractice lawyer. Lives in Manhattan."

  Karen feared they'd pull out another picture to prove that Richie was perfect for her, but apparently Joan's purse was out of reach for the moment.

  "Joan, darling, you've got to stop pushing men at Karen. She'll find one when she's ready."

  "I'm not pushing! How can I push when there's no one around to push in her direction? What? I'm not allowed to be proud of my family? Since when is a little family pride against the law?"

  Karen was exceptionally glad the two of them could cook and clean. As much as she adored the Danskys, their constant griping could tend to become annoying. It wouldn't be a problem, really, if she had a full-time job. But there were times when being a schoolteacher could become a true pain. Two or more months of vacation every year was a fine concept, but not when one was stuck at home.

  She was supposed to be on a cruise right now, escaping from Collier and enjoying the Caribbean Islands. The soldiers had decided otherwise. Instead of enjoying her first real vacation in five years, Karen was playing landlord to four strangers.

  She was also spending an immense amount of time every day with her father, doing her best to keep him calm and lend him moral support in his time of need. July Fourth had marked the end of her father's happy times. Since that day she'd only seen him smile twice, and both times the expression looked more like a wince of pain than of joy.

  Karen forced her mind away from dour thoughts and concentrated on enjoying the exceedingly good omelet that Maurice had prepared for her. She deserved to enjoy her breakfast, as she was almost certain she'd hate the rest of the day. The Danskys made idle chitchat with Karen, and she answered appropriately for the next half-hour before excusing herself. It was time for a shower and then off to get the day started properly.

  The shower was an elaborate affair, involving skin conditioners, special treatments for her hair and at least half of the hot water supply. The daily shower was the one luxury Karen afforded herself. When she was done, she felt ready to face the world again. The tension was gone from her shoulders and neck, and she no longer felt as stiff as Frankenstein's Monster when she moved. Her hair she pulled back in a still wet but efficient ponytail. The day would be hot enough without trying to do anything special to what she referred to as her mop. Her outfit was a short-sleeved blouse and matching light blue pants.

  By the time she was finished with dressing, it was time for her to go. Her father would be entering the "hospital" soon. She liked to see him before he went in. He liked for her to be there, and Karen hated to disappoint him, especially in light of recent events. Besides, she wanted him to pass on a message to her mother, even if the woman couldn't hear her words. Karen and her mother had never been exactly close, but that didn't stop the pain when she thought of Emily O'Rourke lying blistered and withered in the high school gym.

  Even in the worst of times, traveling from one side of Collier to the other was hardly difficult. With the martial law imposed by the government, the pace was leisurely. Not a single car was encountered on the road, except for a few parked jeeps and the armored soldiers who stood by the dark vehicles. Karen gave little thought to the soldiers. They had not stopped her from doing anything save go out after dark, and Karen seldom did that in the first place. Still, as the heat of the morning began rising into the furnace of afternoon, she almost pitied them. They were locked in outfits that had to be about as comfortable as miniature ovens.

  Karen stopped at the intersection of Fourth Street and Allburn Avenue, more out of habit than because it was necessary. The stop sign-complete with red flashers and a STOP ENFORCED DURING SCHOOL HOURS sign above it-at the corner of the high school was only enforced during the school year. As she pulled into the parking lot, she aimed for the front of the building where the teachers normally parked.

  Most of the spots were filled, including the one she thought of as hers, simply because she always parked there. She managed to settle into a spot between Herb Cambridge's battered old pickup and an oversized Cadillac that had long ago seen its glory days.

  The crowd waiting outside the school was smaller today than it had been initially. More and more of the folk in town were avoiding the school, because they knew there was nothing they could do. They could not see their loved ones, nor could they be near them. The guards saw to that. She guessed that, after a while, most people just couldn't stand the limitations imposed by the soldiers. She couldn't blame them.

  The soldiers were in no short supply today, either. There were far more than she was used to seeing-the idea of being used to them had not fully registered, but when it did, Karen
would suffer a bad case of the shivers-and they all seemed more agitated than usual. That was not a good sign of how well things were progressing, at least not in Karen's eyes.

  She caught up with her father as the crowd was dispersing, just before he entered the building. One look at his face was all she needed to know that he hadn't slept. The smile lines around his eyes had become full-scale crow's feet. The crow's feet were overshadowed by the dark rings under his eyes. William O'Rourke tried to smile when he saw her, but even from a few feet away she saw that the effort was another failure. He moved over to her and hugged her briefly, and she felt his arms, which seemed somehow to have grown weaker and thinner over the last week. Older, she thought. He's getting older by the day.

  "How are you, Daddy?" She did her best to keep the sadness she felt from overwhelming her calm voice.

  "I'm fine, sweetheart." He smiled, and she saw the affection he felt for her in his exhausted eyes.

  "You didn't sleep again." Her voice was accusatory, but she couldn't help that.

  "I slept a little, but it's not the same without your mother next to me." His eyes moved away from hers as he spoke, and she knew he was lying. He hadn't slept a wink. William O'Rourke was a poor liar on a good day. At present he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming. He never could look a person in the face when he lied.

  "Would you like me to come over tonight and stay with you? Or maybe you could come over to my place?"

  "No, Kari. That wouldn't work. Between the two of us we have enough extra guests to fill the Holiday Inn over in Macon. Somebody has to be at both places to make sure everything's okay."

  Karen hated when he used logic to end an argument. Logic always won over passion where her father was concerned. "Well, I don't think the people over at my place would be a problem to leave alone. Besides, you always say we're supposed to have a little faith in our fellow man."

  Once again, he tried to smile. "A little faith. Not too much."

  They hugged again and he turned to go inside. Karen called out for him to wish her mother love, and he nodded. A moment later he was gone and she was alone in a crowd of familiar faces.

  Her father would remain inside for at least two hours. In the meantime, she decided to pay Laurie Johnson a visit. They hadn't seen each other in over a week, and that was rather unusual for the two of them. The Hav-A-Feast diner was a fair hike from the school. Despite the atrocious heat, she walked it. Several other people decided that food was a good concept and drove the distance instead. By the time she reached the old white building a heavy layer of sweat was staining her clothes and dampening her hair. She wished she'd had the sense to drive.

  The diner was busy, but that wasn't too surprising. Despite a few days of almost no real business, directly after the UFO crashed, Hav-A-Feast was almost always jam-packed with customers. The only strange thing about it was not knowing who most of them were. Laurie was moving like a blur through the place, carrying more plates than should have been humanly possible, all stacked on one arm, and passing out meals with a quick, distracted smile. When someone asked for water, or another Coke, Laurie nodded and kept going. Without missing a beat, Karen grabbed two empty pitchers and filled them with ice, A moment later one was brimming over with cola and the other with water.

  Laurie saw what she was doing, mouthed a quick thank you, and grabbed another stack of plates. Between the two of them, the chaos was manageable again in a matter of minutes. Laurie pulled a couple of plastic glasses from under the counter, and filled the oversized containers with more ice and Diet Coke. Then the two of them slid back into the cubbyhole between the swinging kitchen doors and the pickup station. The small alcove was less noisy than everywhere else, and the closest thing to a private spot in the entire area, excluding the rest rooms.

  "Thanks, Karen. You're a life-saver." Laurie drank down half of her cola in two oversized gulps, gasping for air when she was done.

  Karen took a sip of her own drink, smiling with affection at the skinny woman next to her. They'd been the best of friends for the last ten years, ever since they'd gone to work together at the Pizza Inn before it burned down. The little Middle Easterner who had built the place never tried setting up a business in town again, and had moved shortly thereafter. While working together, the two young women from different cliques-Karen was a cheerleader, Laurie was a hell-raiser-discovered they had a lot in common. Not the least of which was a penchant for picking the wrong men in their lives. They'd been friends long enough to be each other's maid of honor. Hell, Laurie was one of the few people in town close enough to Karen to remember that before Peter Donovan, Karen had almost married Jack Calloway. Aside from Karen herself, Laurie and her father were the only people who knew about Karen's abortion after Jack's parents were killed in a car accident and he'd had to move in with his grandparents in New Jersey. They had no secrets from each other. "You know I can't resist a chance to save the day. It comes with being a minister's daughter."

  "Really? I suppose you drinking me under the table in high school comes as a result of being a socialite's daughter?"

  "Kiss my butt."

  "It'd take too long."

  "My mother is not a socialite…" Karen started.

  "We're too poor for that." Laurie finished the statement with her.

  "Besides, I haven't had a drink in over four years."

  "Yeah. I know. And I still don't see how you can manage that one." Laurie seldom drank herself, but when she did it was normally too much in too short a span of time.

  The two sat in comfortable silence for a minute. From time to time Laurie stuck her head around the corner, looking for any sign that a customer needed something or, worse still, was trying to skip out without paying the tab. There were no pressing matters to attend to, so she stayed with Karen.

  "You want something to eat?" Laurie always asked, and only about half of the time got a positive response.

  "Oh, not just now, sweetie. I ate an omelet this morning that must have had five eggs in it. The folk staying with me are gonna get me spoiled. When this is all over, I'm gonna have to cook for myself, and I won't know how."

  "Looks like you might be keeping them for a while." Laurie refilled her soda before coming back over to the cubbyhole. Nothing made Laurie happier than knowing she had a captive audience waiting for her to return.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Somebody killed one of the soldier boys last night. I don't reckon anyone's getting out of town anytime soon." Laurie's voice was nonchalant about the matter, but that was to be expected. Other than Arnetta at the mayor's office, she was practically the central gossip post in the area. Blase was her specialty.

  "How'd you hear about that? They can't be making it public." Karen wasn't overly surprised to hear that one of the armored men was dead. It was only a matter of time, in her opinion, before at least a few people in town got antsy about having their freedom revoked. She and Laurie had been discussing the matter only yesterday.

  "How else?" Laurie raised one eyebrow and her face switched to a sly grin. "Arnetta Wilcox came by for a late breakfast and told me all the details."

  Karen tsked a few times, a grin on her face. "I don't know why Milo keeps her on the payroll. He's got to know she's talking about this sort of thing."

  Laurie smiled and nodded. "Sure he knows. But no one else is willing to work for what the town can afford to pay." She shrugged and then winked conspiratorially. "Besides, if she was gone, I'd just have to train a new one to tell me everything. Milo knows I wouldn't be happy about that."

  "Milo still chasing all his meals with Maalox?"

  "Oh, yeah. Some things never change."

  "Did Arnetta tell you the asshole's back in town?"

  "You mean Pete?"

  "The very same."

  Laurie got that just-swallowed-a-bug-and-it's-still-squirming-in-my-throat look on her face and replied. "She didn't have to tell me, Karen. I could smell him when he came in for breakfast."

  "He came here?"<
br />
  "Yep. But I sent him packin'. I don't want or need his business. And I told him as much."

  "Long as he stays away from me, I'm happy."

  "You still carrying that pepper spray you bought when he started his macho shit last time?"

  "Hell, yes. Long as Frank Osborn says I can, I'll continue to carry it."

  "Good. He gets in visual range, you shoot him in the eyes." Laurie slipped a piece of gum into her mouth and offered one to Karen. Karen declined with a shake of her head. "Oh, and make sure you stay upwind this time, too."

  "You're about as funny as a heart attack, Laurie." When Karen first purchased the spray, she'd carefully followed the instructions and test sprayed the substance into the air, making certain that the nozzle pointed away from her. Everything worked fine, except for a stray breeze bringing the stinging droplets back through the window she'd aimed out of and right into Karen's face. Laurie was the only person who knew about the incident. It was Laurie who found Karen an hour later, lying on the couch with a wet towel over her face and ugly red marks wherever the stuff had touched skin. Despite keeping quiet about the incident, Laurie couldn't resist poking fun at her from time to time.

  "Oh, you still offend too easy. I'm just funnin' with you."

  "How's your dad holding up?"

  "Not quite as bad as yours, but he isn't sleeping worth a spit."

  "My dad is too set in his ways. I don't think he's had any sleep since mom got hurt."

  "I don't doubt it. How's your mom doing?"