Fade to Grey (Book 1): Fade to Grey (6 page)

Walter chimed in, “Why is it that we can’t get no TV up
here?  I was talkin’ with my daughter down in Miami this morning, and let me say
it took forever to get through; I kept getting that ‘system busy’ message for
over two hours before I was able to get her. She says that they have local TV,
but most of the time it just seems to be news reports about Korea where nobody
really knows nothing except what’s already been said. But she also said . . .”

“I can answer that,” cut in Uncle Andy. “Most large cities
still have broadcast TV. Which is to say that their signal is transmitted from
a local antenna to their customer base in the immediate area. Some of the
larger stations can probably transmit thirty to fifty miles. Of course that
depends a lot on the terrain they’re in and where the antenna is located. Local
cable television is usually transmitted from the TV stations to the cable
company via a dedicated system. Those channels are then delivered to the cable
company’s customers through the wires that go into the back of the TV.”

“Uh-huh,” said Walter.

Uncle Andy continued, “The problem that we’re having is that
there ain’t a television broadcast signal within about 170 miles, as the crow
flies, from us. Therefore everybody up here has satellite TV, and whenever the
powers that be decided to install whatever they did to block the signals, they
most likely chose the choke point of the satellite systems . . . same thing for
the Internet.”

“You want to try that again in English?” asked Walter.

“Shoot, I already dumbed it down enough so as Eric could
follow it,” he said. “Let me try it this way. Because we don’t have a local TV
station broadcasting signals that we would pick up with an antenna on our
television set, or since we’re so far out in the boonies here there’s no cable
TV either, the only choice we have is satellite television. In Miami, your
daughter is probably getting the three or four local channels broadcast through
her cable TV hookup, but I’d bet my bottom dollar that she used to get a
hundred different channels. The ones she doesn’t get any more are the ones that
are beamed via a satellite network to the different cable companies who’ve then
rebroadcast it to their customers. Got me so far?”

“Yep,” Walter replied . . . “I mean nope,” he added with a
wink that Uncle Andy didn’t see.

“You are dumber than a big bag of hammers. I’ll bet your
brain is fried from sniffing the ink on all of that money you rake in,” Uncle
Andy said.

“Well, if you were smart enough to explain it correctly I
wouldn’t have to ask for all this clarification,” Walter shot back.

I had been both privileged to witness, and on occasion caught
in the crossfire of their legendary “one-upmanship” insult contests, but I was
tired and this could go on for hours if I didn’t step in.

“Think of it like this,” I said, “let’s say that Ghost Echo
Lake is the only lake in the United States. Everybody comes to get their fish
from there. However, in order to get onto the lake and have the best fishing they
have to come through your marina, rent your boats, and use fishing rods they
bought from your store.”

“There you see, Andy, this boy knows how to put it into an
explanation that I like,” Walter said as Uncle Andy frowned and shook his head.
“Go on Eric.”

“However, there are other ways to get fish from Ghost Echo
Lake; for example you could take your own fishing rod and stomp through the mud
and weeds until you finally make it to the water. Now let’s say that Michelle
needed to prevent as many people as possible from fishing in the lake. The
easiest and most practical is not to try and put a fence around the entire
lake, it’s to close the marina. That will stop ninety-nine percent of the
people from getting access to the fish in the lake. In other words, if you
control the access point, which in this case is the marina, then you control ninety-nine
percent of the people who fish there. Television works the same way, only in that
example your marina would be the satellite system and the lake would be the
information and signals for television and the Internet, understand?”

Michelle cut in before Walter could answer. “Holy crap, y’all
are more confusing than a bunch of old bitties arguing at the hair parlor.”

“Y’all? . . . When did you start talking like a southerner?”
I asked with a grin.

“It was during my time at charm and etiquette school in
Georgia,” she said, flashing her pearly whites and batting her eyes. She had
pronounced Georgia in four long syllables like “gee-org-gi-aaa.”

“Now sit your sorry ass down, you redneck yankee hick before
I kick you so hard in the balls our kids will be born already bruised,” she
snarled.

“Charm school huh . . . And what was that remark about ‘our’
kids?” I laughed.

“Never mind,” she said. “Now as I was saying, Walter, don’t
listen to these bookend morons. The simple fact is that because of our location
we can only get TV and Internet through satellite. Whatever the government did
to control the flow of information involved them somehow taking over those
satellites. The only TV stations that are still able to be watched are going to
be the ones that don’t come through satellites, like a local news broadcast. So
until the fed’s decide otherwise, we’re not gonna get TV or Internet out here. Understand?”

“I do, thank you for that clear explanation young lady,”
Walter beamed.

“Actually,” Uncle Andy started, “that’s not entirely . . . accurate
. . . about the Internet thing. I may be able to—well, never mind let me think
about it.”

“Well here’s the way I see it,” said Walter. “This whole
business of the TV not working, phones not being dependable, credit card
machines going down and all of this new sickness that’s spreading all over has
me more than a little on edge.”

“What new sickness?”  Michelle, Uncle Andy and I echoed in
unison.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before I was so rudely
interrupted by ‘Captain Technology’ and his big worded explanation on how
televisions work.”

Uncle Andy started to say something in reply, but I cut him
off.

“What new sickness?” I emphasized the word “what.”

“As I mentioned, I talked to my daughter this morning and she
told me that the local news, both television and radio, were reporting what’s
being called ‘the Korean super flu.’ She said that every hospital and clinic
that she knows of was being overrun with cases and that the governor of Florida
had already declared a state of emergency and ordered the National Guard to assist.
Her roommate had got through to her a few hours before—she was driving home
from Atlanta—and told her that it was just as bad up there. She said she wasn’t
even sure if she could make it all the way back to their apartment because the
roads were practically gridlocked. Anyhow, my daughter said that the news was
reporting that this ‘Korean super flu’ was apparently causing severe
encephalitis-like symptoms and was highly contagious. People were locking their
doors, covering their windows with plastic, and breathing through handkerchiefs.
There’s a little market just down the street from her apartment, and when I was
on the phone with her I could hear what sounded like gunshots. She looked out
her window and said it looked like a gang shooting or something by the market. Very
unusual for the area she lives in. She started to tell me something about ‘biting’
but we got cut off.

“I’m glad I’m not in Atlanta or Miami,” Michelle said.

“Not yet,” Walter said.

“What do you mean ‘not yet?’” Michelle asked.

Walter replied, “What I mean is that we all saw the same
presidential press conference. We all heard that reporter ask the president to
explain how the soldiers that were bombed by that chemical or whatever, how
they had been transferred to the same places where these outbreaks were
happening . . . you know, being a coincidence and all.”

All of us nodded our understanding.

“And then my daughter tells me about what’s going on in
Florida and what her roommate said about Atlanta and I’ve got to figure that
sooner or later it’s gonna end up here as well. Heck, I haven’t been able to
get a call through to anywhere since I talked to my daughter.”

“What are you suggesting we do about it?” said Uncle Andy.

“I don’t know, but I think we need to figure out some things
beforehand in case that flu does show up here,” Walter replied.

We talked about it for a while more, nobody really committing
to anything, but all agreeing to think about it. A deck of cards soon appeared
in Walters hands and we spent the next two hours playing Rook. My eyes were
beginning to droop when we called it a night. Uncle Andy told Walter that he
and I would stop back around lunchtime the day after tomorrow to exchange any
new information. Uncle Andy then asked me to “escort this delicate flower of
the desert safely to her chariot” while he finished up with Walter. Michelle
rolled her eyes, but stood up and took my hand and said to Uncle Andy, “Don’t
worry, I’ll keep him safe.”

I could hear both of the old farts chuckling as I let myself
be pulled out the door.

Michelle and I stood outside the office in the drizzle for a
minute or two. Her head was tilted upward, looking toward the stars that were
hidden by the inky black clouds, her hand still holding on to mine. Neither of
us said anything, we were both lost in thought. My eyes flickered to the window
of Walter’s office, drawn there by some subconsciously observed movement. I saw
Uncle Andy reach into his vest and pull out what looked like a wad of cash and
give it to Walter.

“I wonder what that was for,” I muttered.

“What?” Michelle asked.

“Ah, probably nothing . . . just thinking out loud,” I said.

“Walk me to my truck, I want to give you something,” Michelle
said.

I have to admit that when those words came out of her mouth
my eyebrows went up. “Still thinking about my lime green Scooby Doo bikini
underwear?” she said with a Cheshire cat smile.

“Um . . .” I started to say.

“Well, keep thinking about it. But for now I want to give you
something else.”

We walked over to her Tahoe and she sprung the locks with the
remote. She opened the back passenger door and leaned over, reaching for
something on the seat. The mercury vapor lights by the boat launch shed enough
illumination for me to confirm that she had definitely slimmed down and toned
up. She must have sensed me looking.

“Officer Eric,” she said, “are you having felony level
thoughts back there?”

“I think that in countries like Thailand they’d only be
considered third degree misdemeanors,” I replied. I heard her giggle from the
darkness inside her truck. That was actually one of the first things I learned
during my training as a WCO. Disconnect or turn off the switch so when you open
the doors of your truck at night no light comes on.

She fumbled around for a few more seconds and came out with a
small plastic hard case about half the size of a briefcase. I watched her sit
down on the edge of the car seat and use a small red LED light held between her
teeth to brighten the surface of a business card. She wrote something on it,
paused for a second and then wrote something else. She set the case down and handed
the card to me.

“What is it?  I asked.

“The card is my business card; the front has all of my new office
contact information, the back has my personal contact information. If the
phones and Internet come back on, give me a call.”  Michelle stood up, and then
paused for a moment as she met my eyes. Almost too soft to hear she added, “I’d
like to see you.”

“Uh oh,” I thought, both my dream and my nightmare converging
into one
. “Don’t blow it again
,” I said to myself as I walked up and
hugged her.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

We held each other—testing the waters we’d both sailed before—until
she parted, clearing her throat and saying, “What was I talking about?”

“I think you were going to tell me about the case.”

“Yeah, the case has a brand new Motorola two-way radio with
all of the USFW channels on it. The way the repeater towers are set up you
should be able to communicate with me as long as we’re within about twenty
miles from each other. The area around your uncle’s cabin, Ghost Echo Lake, and
some of the state forest land between here and the Canadian border have solar
powered repeaters that are used by the U.S. Forest Service, Border Patrol, Fish
and Wildlife, and Customs. Each of our agencies have separate frequencies
however, so you couldn’t pull a fast one and try to have the border patrol
deport me,” she displayed a fake frown and I laughed. “You won’t be able to
reach me using the radio when I’m at my office, I’d be too far away. But I’d feel
a lot better if I knew I could get a hold of you when I’m down in this area. I
don’t know Eric, I have a bad feeling in my stomach. I don’t think this is
going to just blow over in a few days.”

“Me either.”

I stood in the semi-darkness of the parking lot, frozen in
the moment—and Michelle’s glittering eyes—as years of unfinished thoughts
stirred in the depths of my memories.