Burn District 1 (22 page)

“How am I supposed to keep the girls from leaving?”

“Just tell them I want to say goodbye before they go. I’ll be home in an hour.” She said goodbye and hung up. Walking back out to the living room, her mother was reading a storybook to Annie and her father was on the floor playing Barbie with Becky.

“Norm wants to see the girls before you leave, so why don’t you stay for dinner?” Amanda said. “I’m making spaghetti and meatballs, your favorite, Dad.” It was a lie, but she had a jar of sauce and frozen meatballs. She could pull something together. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach grew. Could what Norm had said be true?

Chapter 21

After the excitement of the day, Laura, unable to sleep, opened the window shade just enough to see the stars as she lay in bed. The absence of artificial light contamination out in the desert provided an opportunity to view the splendor of the Milky Way unless the moon was full, when its light would obscure all but the brightest stars. Concentrating on the heavens helped Laura block out the mental noise of her life, the constant fear that the camp would burn foremost. There were other, more terrifying fears she refused to acknowledge but that would surface in her dreams. Her children getting sick and not having medical care available was one of the greatest and she’d wake up in a cold sweat as the possibility disrupted her sleep. Apparently, the family doctor was yet another of the benefits of living in civilization that she took for granted.

The newcomers brought an element of chaos to the camp that Laura didn’t like. “It’s just further loss of control over our environment,” Carol said, recognizing her struggle. “Let’s adhere to our schedule tomorrow. Today was special, that’s all. It’ll be a rare occurrence.” But Laura was worried that it would happen more often as the conditions outside worsened. According to the newcomers, the government was on the verge of collapse, the military taking over Washington.

Her hopes dashed of leaving for Yuma, she had a recurring fantasy that the camp was going to become a city. She pictured it in her head; the rows of trailers, having to dig wells and enlarge their septic system, find more solar panels.

Murmuring coming from the boy’s room got her attention. It grew louder as Junior talked in his sleep during a frightening dream. It was loud enough to wake Mike and the two of them ran to the boy’s room. Laura saw Kelly and Steve in the living room, the light on, waiting to see if they should intervene.

“He’s okay,” Mike called.

“Hey buddy,” Laura said, kneeling at his bedside. “What’s going on?”

Junior awoke, covered in sweat. “I had a dream,” he said calmly. Chris was lying on his side on the blow up mattress, watching the family drama unfold but not saying a word, figuring out the Junior was probably stressed out about the adventure they had the previous afternoon.

“I’ll get him a washcloth,” Mike said, relieved, leaving the room for the bathroom.

“Let’s get a dry shirt on,” Laura said. “Lift up your arms.” She pulled off Junior’s shirt as Mike came back with a wet cloth, handing it to Laura.

“A bad man put a gun to grandpa’s head today and I blew his hand off with my gun,” Junior said as Laura wiped his face. Mike brought a t-shirt.

“Put this on buddy, so you don’t get cold. That sounds like a bad dream, but it’s just a dream. You’re safe here with us.” Junior cackled.

“No, Dad, it is not a dream. It really happened. We were at a red light and a bad man put his gun against grandpa’s head. The rule is I’m only to shoot if my life or the life of a loved one is in danger, and so I shot him. The bad man’s gun went off and the bullet shot grandpa’s Cadillac window. That’s why we have Chris’s dad’s car.”

“I wondered where the Caddy went,” Mike said, trying to stay calm. Laura was beyond speech. “Just take it easy there, woman.”

“Ah, I don’t think so. I’ll be right back.” Mike grabbed her hand but she pulled away, closing the door after her. Steve was waiting for the repercussion, looking sad as his daughter came to him.

“Before you say anything, I’m sorry.”

“Dad, this is all wrong. He’s just a young boy. He’s not as….” She was tempted to say he wasn’t as….what? As smart? Junior read and did math at his grade level in school. He had phenomenal reasoning skills and intuition. That he wasn’t as strong physically? He was as strong if not stronger than the other men in the camp were. He was more conscientious about his weight and exercise than most teens his age. And evidently, he was a better shot, too.

“I know what you’re saying, honey,” Steve replied. “But Junior proved that he is part of our team. He pulls his own weight. If anything happened to us, he’d be able to defend himself. I’m really sorry about what happened. But I’d be dead if your son hadn’t followed my directions today.” Laura looked at Kelly and the old Kelly was staring back at her, the Kelly that she’d asked to share their life on the run.

“I saw it, Laura. Junior was amazing.”

She turned and went back to Junior’s room. “Come on buddy,” she said. “Let’s go out to the living room so you and grandpa can explain to me and your dad what happened today.”

Junior crawled out of his bed, smiling. “Don’t be mad at grandpa,” he said. “I knew you’d be upset if you found out I blew someone’s hand off.”

“Stop saying that, Junior,” Laura chided.

“Well, it’s true,” Junior said, eyebrows up. They went out to the living room and for the next half hour, while Laura made Sleepy-time tea for everyone, the family listened to the story of the day Junior saved grandpa’s life.

***

It was well after midnight by the time the newcomers had showered and were ready for bed. When dressed in their hand-me-down garb, the social-class differences of each member faded a little more. The fifth wheel was packed with an assortment of political ideology, starting with Victor Garrison, who was conservative to his constituents, but in private, a rabid right-wing fascist.

Katherine didn’t normally think of her own political beliefs, but in the past forty-eight hours, she decided that if her husband embraced it, she would fight it. They took over the master bedroom of the fifth wheel, Katherine biting her tongue as Victor paced back and forth, wringing his hands.

Grace Baker was an anomaly in her southern community; a genteel, sweet-tea-drinking liberal. Widowed after her husband died in the Persian Gulf War, she raised Ed and his brother, Frank alone, supporting them working as a registered nurse. Isolation and depression had slowly robbed her of much of the joy she once got from life. When she’d told Alex her dream was of being with Ed and his friends, it was true, and she felt she was achieving that dream in spite of the nightmare they were living through.

The young people had varying degrees of political beliefs, from Miranda’s socialism to Danny’s libertarianism.

“I hope my son Frank is safe,” Grace suddenly confessed, her voice penetrating the eerie darkness. “I feel awful I haven’t thought of him before this.”

“Mom, Frank is fine,” Ed answered from his bunk. “I’ll try to contact him in the morning.” Frank lived in Oregon, on the Canadian border. Although Ed didn’t bring it up then, he was considering Frank’s place as a destination if Arizona didn’t work out.

“We might have to do it in secret,” Alex said. “I was told they don’t want the internet here, just in case.”

“Go down the road then before you log on. I don’t want anything we do to piss anyone off,” Miranda said from the upper berth. “Excuse me, Mrs. Baker.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. I’m a little pissed off right now myself. Why is this happening? Everything was going along so nicely.” She laughed out loud, an uncharacteristic, throaty guffaw. “Ha! Like I know anything.”

“It took all of us by surprise, Grace,” Alex said softly from his bunk. “We just figured it out before everyone else did.”

“The weird thing is that it crossed party lines,” Ed said. “Who voted for those people?”

“Who knows if anything would have happened without Hurricane Sandy? The storm opened the door for fanatics who were already in office to carry out their plans.”

“I disagree,” Victor Garrison said, opening the sliding door from the bedroom.

“Oh, I was so close to sleep,” Miranda sighed.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he replied. “But I was there. Winston Clarke is not an elected official. Nor is John Eastman.”

“I stand corrected,” Ed said. “Change that to fanatics who slipped in from the outside and took over the U.S. Government while the elected officials stood by and did nothing.”

“I resent that,” Victor shouted, pointing at the ceiling. “I was busy protecting the rights of our citizens. I personally worked diligently to keep programs in place which benefited my constituents.”

“Name one,” Miranda challenged.

Shocked, his daughter had never challenged him up before. “Well, I voted to extend unemployment for six months rather than reducing it to the former ninety days as initially introduced.”

“Who can find a job in six months?” Danny asked.

“When did
you
ever fill out a job application?” Victor asked his son.

“Well, it’s not going to be a problem for a long time,” Alex replied. “Because
no one
is going to work for a long time.”

“Let’s not talk about politics anymore,” Miranda said. “What good will it do? Since you feel like debating, why not voice your opinion about the offer the camp dwellers made to us. Should we stay here or move on?”

“We should do whatever we want,” Lexie said. “And I’m staying here.”

“I’d like to stay, too,” Miranda said. “For a while. Just to get my head together.”

“We can come and go,” Ed said. “It’s not like we’re in prison. I want to drive into Yuma city tomorrow to see what I can discover. They might have something good going on.”

“Can’t we just rest for a day? I feel rode hard and put up wet,” Grace Baker admitted. The group laughed. “I’m tired. Why are we still arguing? What difference does any of this make now? We have to learn to survive, that’s about the only thing I can see that is important. How are we going to survive?”

“You’ve got a point,” Alex said. “Staying here may keep us from trying to reinvent the wheel. They already have everything we need. I went on a little tour with Steve and it looks like they even have the apparatus necessary to drill a well. He’s ready to build a city here.”

“I’m really not interested in homesteading,” Ed said, rolling over in his bunk. “As a matter of fact, the thought makes me ill.”

“Well, you can do whatever you want. Can we please go to sleep now?” Miranda climbed back into her berth.

“Look,” Lexie said, pointing out the little window at the side of the berth. “Lights are on in the trailer. It looks like everyone is up tonight.”

The sleepy time tea took effect and at three in the morning, the camp dwellers started to yawn. Kelly pulled a blanket up around her shoulders, excused herself and got onto the couch. “I can’t keep my eyes open another second,” she murmured. Laura walked around the living room, picking up teacups and paper napkins.

“Come on Junior, you better hit it, too. You have a lot to do tomorrow, defending the camp.”

“Like a super-hero?” He asked innocently.

“Exactly like a super-hero,” Laura said, ruffling his hair.

Back in bed, Mike snoring next to her once again, Laura thought how much old, preconceived notions of their life were being challenged. Since his birth, she took it for granted that she would be the one protecting Junior for the rest of her life. Now it appeared he’d used reasoning skills and his shooting expertise to save her father’s life. Would anyone back in the old neighborhood believe it?

Of the words used to describe her son beside the hateful terms no one wanted to repeat,
Special Needs
was the most common and the most annoying. An older friend, a pioneer raising her severely brain-damaged daughter at home instead of institutionalizing her, spoke in hushed tones around the girl. A woman with childlike behavior, her mother never mentioned her condition in her presence. Laura decided after it was determined that Junior had an IQ that might allow him to live semi-independently some day, that he would know he had Downs. She hoped he’d work harder when he needed to and she was correct. Junior never used Downs as an excuse for bad behavior. Proudly, he achieved more and more every year with their help and encouragement.

Pulling the sheets up to her chin, she smiled, looking out of the window one last time, thinking she may have found the silver lining to the current cloud.

Carol and Randy were silent on their way back to the little camper. Randy was getting on her nerves.
Victor Garrison was certainly a tall drink of water
, she thought, feeling a little desire stirring when he walked into the camp. Maybe she and Randy just needed to be
together
. He was a different man when they were making love, passionate and tender instead of a know-it-all. As she prepared for bed, Carol decided she was going to make a move; and then Randy farted. Poor man, his timing was always so bad. She laughed into her pillow, careful not to wake him and turned over, falling right to sleep.

Chapter 22

In the light of day, everything looked different and not in a good way. The newcomers split about what their next step should be, decisions already made individually. Grumbling about uncomfortable quarters, roommates snoring, the atmosphere was not nice. Around the dinette, five of them squeezed in, bickering at each other while Grace Baker made coffee, passing full cups, cream and sugar around. The lack of space was already making tempers flare; a small skirmish heard from the master bedroom.

“I’m not staying,” Victor Garrison said. “I don’t care how convenient it is, or how nice the people are. What would I do here? I’m a leader, and it appears these people already have one. Let’s go into Yuma and see what we can do there to get out of this mess.”

“I don’t want to go to Yuma,” Katherine sniveled petulantly. “I’m tired of you making my plans.”

“Katherine, you have to come along. What the hell would
you
do here? Sorry sweetheart, but I don’t see you roughing it with our redneck hosts.”