Emergency Transmission

by Sean McLachlan

  The Reverend’s followers shifted uncertainly. The Reverend stood straighter.

  “Only the Lord Himself could make me back down, Doctor. You are protecting the Devil’s people. They destroyed civilization and led the world into ruin.”

  “Blame!” several people shouted.

  The Doctor pointed a finger at the Reverend Wallace. It trembled slightly. Probably from fatigue, David guessed, or rage. This man did not know fear. He looked tired, and yet with an inner strength that refused to be quenched. His eyes were alight, and his fragile body stood tense and erect. David did not think this man would live much longer.

  “Take back what you said, then disarm and disperse immediately. Otherwise I will have you tried for Blame. You know the penalty.” The Doctor turned and pointed to each man and woman in line. “That goes for all of you too.”

  A few dropped their weapons and ran off. Most held their ground. Now the lines were about even. Enough to slaughter one another. Enough to tear New City and the Burbs apart. And certainly enough to kill David, since he still stood between them.

  “God’s law is higher than man’s law,” the Reverend said.

  “God says for us to love one another,” David said.

  Everyone looked at him. It was like they had forgotten he was still there. He licked his lips and went on.

  “Isn’t life hard enough without fighting one another? God wants his people to live in peace.”

  “Didn’t God tell the Israelites to smite the Philistines? Didn’t the Lord himself smite down Sodom and Gomorrah? The Lord has no love for those who do the Devil’s work.” The Reverend pointed a finger at David. “And you! I knew you were an agent for Satan the moment you started defending the Chinese.”

  David indicated the Chinese woman standing between Roy and The Doctor.

  “This one saved my life.”

  “That one is the worst of the lot. She seduced The Doctor into accepting the ship. She’s insinuated herself into the government and will lead us to perdition. She’s Satan’s agent on Earth and she recognizes you as one of her own. She’s—”

  The Reverend cut off his rant. An old, paunchy man in Kevlar had crept up behind him and stuck the muzzle of his M16 against the back of his head.

  “Reverend Wallace, as Head of the Watch I’m arresting you for Blame and for speaking hate speech against the Chinese community in general and Song Yu-jin personally. Now come along quietly.”

  The Reverend’s followers turned towards the newcomer, but he nudged the Reverend’s head with his gun to indicate he was serious, and none of them raised their weapons.

  “Clyde,” the Reverend sputtered. “I thought you understood.”

  “I understand law and order, and you ain’t it. You’re causing more trouble than the Chinks, er, I mean the Chinese. Sorry, Yu-jin. Slip of the tongue. Now the rest of you inbreeds better drop your weapons and skedaddle before I get twitchy and blow the Reverend’s head off by accident. Your weapons are hereby confiscated. Any one of you who keeps out of trouble for thirty days can apply to get yours back.”

  “That’s for me to decide, Clyde,” The Doctor said.

  “Well, what’s your decision, then?”

  “I agree, but the time span is sixty days.”

  “Whatever,” Clyde said. “Now do as Doc says and move along.”

  One by one the followers dropped their weapons, looked sorrowfully at their leader, and began to back off. A few didn’t move. They still held their guns.

  David had been in enough tense situations to give this a fifty-fifty chance to still end in bloodshed.

  “Anyone who defends the Reverend Wallace will be charged with Blame,” The Doctor shouted. David got the impression that shouting was his normal tone of voice. “Protecting Blame is as bad as Blame itself. You know the law.”

  “Wait!” David shouted.

  David walked over to Reverend Wallace and put his arm around his shoulder. The old man stared at him in disbelief.

  “Let him go,” David said.

  The Doctor studied him for a moment. “Stay out of our business if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Branding and exiling him won’t heal the wounds of your people,” David said.

  “You heard the Doc, mind your own business,” Clyde said. “I don’t want to arrest you, buddy, but I will.”

  “Hurting him and hurting me only causes more hurt. What the people need is healing and hope.”

  “We can’t have that without law and order,” Clyde said.

  “And stamping out prejudice,” The Doctor added.

  “No law can do that,” David said. “If you arrest him you have to arrest me. If you brand him, you have to brand me.”

  A mutter rose up from the crowd. Some of those who had been listening to his sermons for the last couple of days pleaded with The Doctor to let him go and just take the Reverend.

  “No,” David told them. “We’re of the same blood. No one here is innocent so if one man is to be punished, all men should be.”

  Clyde stared at him curiously, but did not lower his gun.

  “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” The Doctor said. “You’re not guilty of anything except public stupidity. Move out of the way and stop interfering with the law.”

  “No.”

  “Brother, this isn’t your fight,” Roy said.

  “What you’re doing is very noble,” the Chinese woman said, “but he’s promoting hatred against my people.”

  “We are all one people,” David said.

  “Tell him that!” The Doctor snorted.

  “I’m trying to,” David replied.

  The Reverend turned to him, slowly so as not to startle the man who had a gun to his head.

  “Perhaps I was wrong about you. You seem like a Godly man who has gone astray. You seemed so in my living room while we had lunch, and you seem so now. But don’t let your misguided love blind you. The Chinese are evil, and that’s God’s own truth. If I’m to be branded for speaking the truth, it will only make the truth be better heard.”

  “And to tell these people that the Chinese, that no group of people, are evil, I’ll be branded right next to you.”

  “That’s up to us,” The Doctor said, coming up with a couple of his guards. “Grab him.”

  The two burly men lunged for David.

  His instincts almost took over, his arms coming up. Then he let them fall to his sides and didn’t resist as they pulled him away from the Reverend Wallace.

  Screams from the crowd made everyone turn. David saw what they were screaming about and his jaw dropped in disbelief.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Roy whipped around at the sound of the screams, thinking some idiot had pulled a gun.

  But what he saw was something he never expected.

  A dozen tweakers shuffled through the crowd. People moved aside, crinkling their noses. The tweakers didn’t seem to notice them, and moved forward as a single shuffling mass.

  At least they looked like tweakers. They had the ragged clothes and bloodshot blank eyes of chemical huffers, and yet they had obviously made some attempt to wash themselves. Instead of being caked with grime, they were merely dirty. Their long nails were still crusted and their matted hair remained greasy and knotted, but they’d scrubbed most of the filth off their skin. They also looked less whacked out than the usual tweaker. They didn’t drool and didn’t have the usual slack, mindless faces.

  Still, they were a vile sight. Most were covered with open sores. One hobbled along with the aid of two others. Another was covered with burns. They gave off a nasty odor too. They’d need a lot more bathing to get rid of that.

  The crowd of tweakers shuffled forward, eyes fixed on David.

  David stared back at them and stepped forward.

  “You … you followed me,” David said.

  The tweakers’ eyes lit up, and every one of them got a big grin on their face.

  They reached out to him, rags dangling from ski
nny arms. Roy gripped his gun tighter. Tweakers were unpredictable. They could stand like statues for hours, not bothering anyone, before flipping into a murderous rage.

  David laid their hands upon him, touching him on the shoulders and interlacing their fingers with his.

  One turned to the crowd and opened his mouth, working his lips in an effort to speak.

  “He … he healed us.”

  David put an arm around the tweaker and the addict’s face lit up.

  “Heal!” another shouted, so loud that Roy jumped a little.

  “No more chemicals!” several tweakers said in unison.

  “No more huffing!” more added. It sounded like something they had been practicing together.

  “Follow the healer!” they all shouted.

  Then they all prostrated themselves before him.

  What the hell is going on here? Roy wondered.

  “No,” David said, pulling up the nearest tweaker. “Not me. I don’t deserve it. Kneel before God, not me.”

  They didn’t listen as they fawned over him and looked at him with eyes that no longer showed the blank bleariness of chem addiction.

  Roy stepped forward.

  “Brother, do you know these tweakers?”

  “People,” David replied. “They’re people. I met them on the beach some ways south of here. They welcomed me. I don’t know why.”

  David turned his face to the sky. His mouth moved a little, like he was whispering.

  “He …,” a tweaker said, gesturing towards David. “He came to us. I offered him a can. Good stuff. And he said no. Something … happened. I knew I had lost myself. So I threw away the can.”

  The tweaker sat down and sighed, rubbing his temple as if he had grown exhausted by speaking so much. Roy stood amazed. Most of them couldn’t put one word after another.

  He looked around at the crowd of his neighbors. The faces he saw were a mixture of amazement and fear, but mostly amazement. Fear because any group of tweakers was dangerous, amazement because this group was obviously not.

  The Reverend Wallace looked the most amazed of all.

  “You saved them,” the Reverend said. “You went out and preached among the lowest of the low and you actually saved them.”

  David paused for a moment, looking unsure of himself, and then he straitened and declared,

  “Yes, I went among the tweakers to preach. I told them the error of their ways, how their addiction was taking them from God’s path. I told them that even in their condition, they were God’s creatures. All human beings are God’s creatures and He yearns for their salvation. I asked for them to follow me here so they could stand witness to His power.”

  For a moment no one replied. Even The Doctor looked at a loss for words. Then Yu-jin spoke up.

  “Would your … friends like some food?”

  David turned and treated Yu-jin to a radiant smile.

  “I am sure they are hungry after such a long walk.”

  It was only then that Roy noticed the Reverend had been led away. None of his followers had raised a cry, because those who hadn’t already left were all too stunned by what just happened. The crowd began to disperse. Yu-jin ran into the bar and the music came on again, the strange strains of Roy’s old Cantonese CD playing over his sound system. The guards eased down. The Reverend’s remaining followers moved off.

  Roy checked the pile of surrendered weapons and saw it was too small. Not all had given up their guns.

  The tweakers sat down in the road outside the bar and David sat among them. Yu-jin and a couple of the regulars brought out plates of food, setting them down on the ground. They couldn’t quite bring themselves to hand the plates directly to the tweakers.

  Roy went to the buffet inside, loaded up a couple of plates, and went outside.

  He met Yu-jin coming in.

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” she said, beaming. “He’s like an old-time prophet.”

  Don’t get overexcited, girl, he thought. There’s something not quite right about him.

  But Roy didn’t say this. He only flashed his winning smile and edged past her to give two more tweakers their first decent meal in ages.

  By the time he got back into $87,953, the Chinese delegation was already inside, preparing a toast with some of his best beer. Even Pablo and Hong-gi had managed to scam a couple of glasses.

  The Doctor turned to her. “Tell them I’d like to toast a new era of cooperation between our peoples. The past is buried and we must rebuild.”

  Once this was translated, Captain Wang replied via Yu-jin.

  “I thank the esteemed mayor for inviting us to the New Year’s celebrations. It means much to us being so far from home. But I must respectfully maintain that the past is not buried. That deep sea well is a plague for both our people. We must bury it together, as a symbol of our renewed cooperation and our commitment not to repeat the mistakes of the past.”

  The Doctor looked uncomfortable.

  “I am sure we’ll find a way,” he replied. “Cheers.”

  The Chinese from both sides of the ocean sat down and began to drink and chat. Some of Doc’s men sat with them, using local Chinese as translators. Some whites, Hispanics, and blacks from the Burbs mingled as well.

  Roy kept busy behind his bar, but never took his eyes off the party. This was history in the making. He’d built his first bar, a miserable little shack, only as a means to get away from The Doctor and to make his own living. As it grew in popularity and outdid all the other gin stands and tent saloons, he realized he had created a focal point for the community. Sure, people fought and argued and puked on the floor, but people also struck up friendships and exchanged gossip and fell in love. He couldn’t count the number of weddings he’d hosted.

  He saw Pablo waving at him from one of the tables. Hong-gi sat next to him in his little sailor’s uniform.

  They probably brought him ashore because he’s too cute to shoot, Roy thought.

  The kid was busy translating for a couple of local white farmers and three officers from the ship, all of them enjoying food and beer together. Roy went over.

  “Can we get another round?” Pablo asked.

  “Oh, I knew you were a regular, but I didn’t know you were that kind of a regular. Well, your friends can have another round. Want some goat’s milk?”

  “We can’t have another beer?” Hong-gi asked.

  Pablo belched.

  “No,” Roy said.

  A voice started shouting outside. Roy’s head jerked in the direction of the door. Several others reacted the same way. Too much shouting in the Burbs lately, and none of it good.

  Curiosity replaced tension as he realized it was David shouting, and he wasn’t crying out a challenge or a warning.

  He was preaching.

  What’s that boy getting up to now?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Yu-jin heard the sound of preaching outside.

  “Excuse me,” she told Reginald and Captain Wang.

  “You’re needed here,” Reginald said, irritated.

  “Just one minute.” She walked off before he could object.

  Yu-jin weaved her way through the crowd to the door, several other guests moving ahead of her in the same direction.

  When she came out, she saw that preacher saying grace with the tweakers. Most didn’t speak, or mumbled a few vaguely coherent words, while a few actually prayed along with the preacher.

  Yu-jin stopped short. She always said grace before a meal, but she hadn’t when she sat down with Reginald, Captain Wang, and some of the ship’s officers. Why not? Was it because the mayor of New City was an atheist and he’d look down on her like he always did when she mentioned her faith? Was it because she worried what the Chinese from the ship would think? She hadn’t brought up religion with any of them, and didn’t know what faith, if any, they kept over there.

  The preacher knelt in the mud by his plate. The tweakers had formed a circle around them. Beyond that circle was anoth
er circle of Burbs residents, staring.

  “Lord, bless this meal and give us peace today …,” the preacher was saying as Yu-jin pushed through the circle of onlookers.

  Suddenly she knew what she needed to do.

  She knelt right beside him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and continued, “… and bless our Chinese brothers and sisters, both our neighbors and our new friends from across the ocean. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Yu-jin said. The tweakers grunted in unison.

  The preacher picked up his plate and smiled at her.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “David.” He bit into some of Joe’s sesame chicken. “This is excellent. Thank you.”

  “Would you really have volunteered to be branded right next to the Reverend Wallace?”

  David nodded. “I meant it.”

  “They wouldn’t have done that to you. Only citizens can get branded and exiled.”

  “I would have made them. He’s wrong in what he says, but branding him won’t turn his heart.”

  Yu-jin looked around. The crowd had thinned, no doubt as repelled by the tweakers’ stench as she was.

  “His family was killed by a roving band of Chinese soldiers, one of the remnants of the last armies,” Yu-jin said.

  “God rest their souls. I think they will rest easier if he learned to forgive.”

  “I used to go to his church,” Yu-jin said, giving the distant steeple a look of longing.

  “Really?” David asked.

  “Before the ship came, we all pretended to be Korean or Vietnamese. He was accepting of everybody. Never had a cross word about anyone. That all changed when the ship arrived. I had to come out as Chinese so I could translate. Then there were riots, and he started preaching hate …”

  Yu-jin’s voice trailed off. She didn’t know why she was telling this man so much. She sensed he would understand somehow.

  “Where I’m from, the Chinese are accepted.”

  Yu-jin’s heart leaped. “Where’s that? The Southern City? I’ve heard stories of it.”

  David shook his head. “I think that’s just a rumor. No, when I say ‘where I’m from,’ I mean the wastelands down south. Hard living down there. You’re better off here.”