Torn (19 page)

Cocky, Blain said, “And if I don’t, we work together on this. Because I have a gut feeling something big is gonna happen wit
h
this world, and you know what that is.”

“I’m a Johnstown reporter.”

“With some mighty influential friends. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They shook.

“Give me a second,” Blain pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “It’s me.” He turned his body and mumbled the conversation. “Thanks.” He hung up and faced Chuck. “Ready?” Blain asked.

Chuck lifted the camera. “You’re on.”

Blain smiled.

“This is Blain Davis, coming to
you
live from Philadelphia International Airport, where a distressed plane has just landed. Emer
gency crews have gathered in ho
rd
e
s, and ambulances in incredible numbers are racing to the runway. As you can see pandemonium has gripped the airport, and this reporter along with Chuck Wright, Johnstown Tribune, were on site when it all went down. With me now is FAA administrator, Harold Evens. Harold, what’s the situation?”

“Right now we’re not sure. Emergency personnel are removing passengers from the plane.”

“What’s going on?’

“Seven minutes prior to landing we received a distress call from the pilot aboard 766. His description of the situation was patchy. All we know now
i
s there are cases of severe vomiting, diarrhea, and delirium.”

“Could it have been food
poisoning?
”

“Negative on that there, Blain. We’ve ruled t
hat out. There are unconfirmed
reports of skin lesions.”

“Could it be gas?
A terrorist attack of some sort?
”

“We can
not determine that at this time.”

“Any con
firmed deaths or only illnesses?
”

“We’v
e not received word of deaths;
we don’t believe it is that severe. However there are reports of unresponsiveness.”

“Thank you.”

Harold backed off.

“That was Harold Evens, FAA. Now, Sam, we are told that there are some one hundred and fifty
-
three people aboard that plane. What their individual conditions are remain to be seen, and pending notification of family, all names are being with held. The cause at this time is unknown, and the question of the hour is, what happened on board flight 766
?
More later.”

Pause.

“Blain Davis, with Chuck Wright
,
CNS news. Back to you, Sam.”

Bret bit her nails, and sat like a child, knees close watching the television. The phone was to her ear. “I’m seeing this, Virginia. This is amazing.”

“It’s fucked up.” Jesse commented on his way through the living room. “Fuckin’ terrorist
s
.”

“It wasn’t a ter
ror attack, asshole.” Bret said
then returned to her call. “Sorry. So Darius saw this coming
?
”

From the kitchen, Jesse mumbled. “Fuckin’ Darius.”

Bret ignored him. “What’s Colin’s take? Yes, he’s coming over later. He called this morning. I suppose he forgot that I worked all night. He said he and Darius were finishing up on a small proposal. Do you know what that is?”

“Not really, they said they had one for me too.” Virginia said.

“Strange. He wanted to know what would be a good time to stop by.” Bret dropped her voice to a whisper and covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “He asked when Jesse would be home. I figure he wants to avoid my husband.”

“Why are you whispering?” Jesse yelled from the kitchen.

“Why are you eav
esdropping? Go out or something; geez. Anyhow
. . . .
”
Bret continued. “I was specific. Je
sse’s doing night road work and
. . . .
”
He
r
head cocked when the doorbell rang. “Hold on.” She walked to the front door. “Let me call you back. Colin’s here. Man.”

“Who’s at the
. . . .
”
Jesse paused. “Door.”

Bret exhaled as she let Colin into her home
.
Jesse and Colin had never met face to face.

“Uh, Jesse, Colin. Colin, Jesse,” s
he introduced.

Colin seemed pleased, extended his hand, and brightly smiled “Nice to meet you finally.”

“Same here. So you’re?” Jesse said.

“Yes, he is.” Bret intervened. “And Colin has something he needs to discuss with me.”

“Actually
. . . .
”
Colin ran his finger over his top lip. “I need to speak to Jesse.”

“Me?” Jesse asked.

“Him?”

“Yes,” Colin said. “I believe you have an expertise that
will come in handy with the ice
. . . .
”

“Tea.” Bret blurted out. “Ice tea.” Nervously, she spun to Jesse. “I’ve been telling Colin about your famous ice tea.”

Blushingly, Jesse tilted his head “It’s not that great. But I do get raves.”

Colin chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Secret is in the length of time you steep the bags.”

“Would you like some?” Bret asked. “We have some. Jesse
,
get some for Colin.”

“I would love some. After that we can discuss the emer
ging ice
. . . .
”

“Tea contest.” Bret said. “The one they’re having in West Virginia
. Geez
, I forgot to tell you, Jesse.”

Jesse looked puzzled, “An ice tea contest. That’s strange. A new one.”

“Age.” Colin said. “Age.” He shook his head.

“Thirty-two.” Jesse said
. “Does that matter?
”

Bret snickered. “No. I don’t think. Does it Colin?”

“What in the world?” Colin asked.

“I’ll get that tea,” Jesse said. “Then you can tell me if it’s contest material.”

“Jesse
,
stop.” Colin called out. “Wait.” He reached over and covered Bret’s mouth, then said. “I’d love some tea. It sounds wonderf
ul. I’m here to discuss the ice
. . . .
”

Gasping, Bret removed his hand, but before she could respond, Colin covered her mouth again.

“Age.” Colin completed his sentence.

“Ice age?” Jesse asked.

Bret cringed.

“Yes.” Colin nodded. “The ice age.”

Fluttering his lips, Jesse shrugged. “Can’t be more than a day old, we have a maker that pops out cubes every so often. Plus, the kids are always using it. So it’s fresh.”

Bret knew she was in trouble when she saw the stare on Colin’s face.

Cover. Try to cover. Quickly, Bret shrugged as if she were embarrassed by her husband’s lack of understanding.

The corner of Colin’s mouth raised in a smile. “Jesse, I’m not talking about the age of the ice in the fridge, I’m talking about the Ice Age.”

“Movie?” Jesse asked.

“Reality.”

Jesse looked lost.

Colin blinked several times in that arrogance he often displayed. “Hasn’t your wife mentioned it?”

“The movie?” Jesse asked.

“No, the reality.” Colin repeated. “The entire predicted outcome of all the odd occurrences going on. The rea
son we’ve been talking, meeting
. . . .
”
He rattled
on,
per
turbed, then it hit him. “You
. . .
you don’t know.”

“Know what?” Jesse asked.

“You don’t
.” Colin turned to Bret. “I can
not believe all this time, all these talks, our meetings, lunches, and you didn’t tell your husband about the ice age that is coming?”

Bret winced.

“Wait.” Jesse held up his hand. “You’ve been talking back and forth with him, and not only that, you’ve been meeting with him?”

Reluctantly, Bret nodded. “Tha
t’s where I’ve been going, when
. . . .
”

“When you told me you were heading to knitting class.” Jesse finished the sentence.

Colin laughed. “Knitting class? For weeks? Did the fact that she never bought any yarn, or made anything even tip y
ou off?
”

“Fuck.” Jesse blurted.

Colin raised his eyebrows. “I guess not.”

“Colin,” Bret snapped. “Shut up. You aren’t helping.”

“Me?” Colin continued in his typical instigation. “You’re the one that’s
lying to your husband about us.
”

Bret cringed.

Jesse flared.

“Whoops.” Colin said. “Wrong word choice?”

Before she could say, ‘yes’, Jesse went overboard. Without warning or hesitation, he squared off and nailed Colin straight in the cheek.

Colin started coming to
almost immediately. The ice to his cheek helped. He j
erked back when it touched
his skin.

“Sorry, he hit you,” Bret said.

“That’s alright. How long was I out?” he asked.

Bret would have explained right there and then that he wasn’t out long, had the c
hildren not walked in the house, d
aughters first.

Casper stopped cold. “What happened to him?”

Kneeling by Colin, Bret replied, “Jesse hit him.”

“Figures.” Casper said. “Violence, Mother. Does that give you enou
gh reason now to get rid of him?
”

Andi gasped. “That isn’t very nice to say.”

“Well, neither is hitting someone.” Casper defended. “Like
he’s
a threat to Jesse.” She paused, looked left to right. “Wait. Maybe he is. Where is he?”

“Gone.” Bret answered.

“Why did Jesse hit him?” Andi asked.

Bret replied, “I suppose he thought I was having a
n
affair with Colin.”

Colin
sat
up. “He didn
’t seriously think that, did he
?”

“Hey,” Luke walked in the house. “What happened to Dr. Reye?”

Bret sighed out, “Jesse hit him.”

“For no reason?”

“Jesse thought he had reasons. I am so sorry, Colin.” Bret faced him. “I can’t believe my husband hit you.”

“It was a mistake. Now is not the time to be petty.” Colin breathed out. “I came here for a reason. I’d like to get to that reason. Since the family is present, perhaps they should listen up. That is un
less
. . .
unless they haven’t a clue about it either.”

“No.” Bret said nonchalantly,
as she helped him to his feet.
“They know.”

“Good.
Now if you can just call Jesse
. . . .
”

“I can’
t;
he’s gone.”

Colin looked at her sideways. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Gone?” Luke asked. “For real?”

“Gon
e?” Andi questioned. “Seriously?
”

Casper clenched out an excited, ‘yes’.

Bret shrugged. “Gone. He said he was leaving. Gone. Said he reached the end with this. Muttered something about having an affair with you and you can have me.”

“Very nice of him. But like I said, I have a reason for being here,” Colin said. “I need his help with the construction aspect of our shelter here. You said he was a contractor before doing roadwork.”

Bret nodded. “He was. Good, too.”

“Great.” Colin sighed. “Now I have to rework my plan.”

Bret waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be back.”

“And if he doesn’t come back?” Colin asked.

“Don’t worry about,” Bret said. “I know a perfect company. But it’s a moot point. Jesse’s mad. He may be gone from the house,” she spoke assuredly. “But trust me. Jesse will be back.”

Jesse didn’t come back.

He failed to return the evening he left and failed to answer his phone.

The next morning he placed a call to Bret telling her he couldn’t take all the new men in
her life, nor the ‘end of the
world’ paranoia, and he just wanted out.

Plus, Casper hated him.

Bret thought it was a phase until Jesse emptied out the bank accounts
,
leaving her only a dollar.

“Remind me to thank Darius again,” Bret said, getting into the car. “If he wouldn’t have lent me that money everything would have bounced.”

“Somehow,” Colin said. “Dare-
D
are isn’t too worried about
repayment. All good with the bank?
”

Bret nodded. “Said there was nothing they could do. It was a joint account.”

“I figured as much. How are you?’

“Fine. Shocked.” Bret shrugged. “Numb. Not understanding.”

Colin turned the wheel
of
the car and out of the bank parking lot. “Now, let’s take your mind off of it. We’re moving on the plan. Did you call them?”

“Yes,” Bret answered. “I didn’t tell him anything, only that I had a project proposition for him.”

“Can you give me the run
-
down on this business?”

“Absolutely.
Bruce Weiss started his o
w
n contracting firm when he retired from the service.” She stated the facts. “Retired infantry. Tough guy. Very smart. Don’t let him fool you when you see him. He dresses up well. His son works with him. Former cop. Was let go from the force for racist comments.”

“Really?” Colin asked. “Hmm. And they’re good.”

“Oh, my God, yes. They built the crooked house by themselves. No other contractors and did it fast too.”

“No wonder why it was crooked.”

Bret snickered. “It was supposed to be that way. They were in the architectural digest.”

“How do you know him?”

“Jesse and he
used to hang out all the time. It was Jesse who knew him. They stopped. I guess life got in the way. Oh!” She pointed here. “Turn here.”

Colin did. In an inner city neighborhood, they traveled down a side street until they came to a building at the end.

It looked like a
small storage warehouse;
a big parking lot housed heavy equipment that appeared in need of repair or cleaning.

The ‘Weiss and Son Contracting’ sign with red lettering was faded. The garage door was boarded up and a few windows broken.

Colin stopped the car. “Are you
sure they’re still in business?
”

“Yeah, I just talked to him. He said they were in all day.”

“Do they even have business?”

“They do now,” Bret said brightly and opened the car door. As soon as she did, the front door of the building opened.

Colin paused. He looked as if he were thinking of getting back in the car when he saw Bruce.

About fifty, Bruce was fit, h
is head bald, face worn but handsome. He wore a pair of camouflage pants, black tee shirt, a shoulder harness containing a revolver, large hunting knife in hand, and instead of combat boots, he had on rubber fishing boots.

“Good God, it’s Rambo.” Colin whispered.

“Bret!” Bruce grinned, tucked the knife into a sleeve and the M-4 behind his back as he made his way to her. “My God do you look good.” He embr
aced her. His voice was country, a
lmost too country for being inner city.

“So do you.” Bret smiled. “Bruce, this is Colin Reye.”

Bruce gave a firm handshake. “Pleasure.”

The smile dropped from Colin’s face as he withdrew his hand and looked a
t
it with a studio
u
s stare.

“Sorry,” Bruce said and wiped his hand on his pants.

“What is that? Blood?”

Bruce chuckled.

Colin pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and cleaned his hand.

Bruce, hands on hips, stepped back and looked at Bret. “Always said that Jesse is one lucky fella. How is he?”

Bret shrugged. “We broke up.”

At first Bruce grinned, then turned serious. “Sorry about that. Well, I knew it was only a mat
t
er of time before you found out about Kyomi.”

“Who?” Bret asked.

“Oops.”

Colin shifted his eyes. “Oops? You say oops to her. What does that mean?”

“Oops.” Bruce shrugged. “Means I made a mistake.”

“Who is Kyomi?” Bret asked.

Bruce exhaled. “His little side girl. I swore I thought you knew. Didn’t you wonder why him and I stopped hanging out? I couldn’t take that he was being like that with you. Always liked you, Bret. I never bought his reasoning for the girl.”

“And what was his reasoning?”

“You didn’t
. . .
well, you know.” Bruce shrugged.

“Be that as
it may, I work night turn. Geez
.” Bret huffed. “How long?”

“A year.”

“Oh my God.” Her hand went to her head. “I wa
s with him at least three times
this past year.
”

Colin mouthed ‘three times?’

“I have to get checked,” Bret said. “For disease.”

“Probably not,” Bruce said. “Jesse bragged she was a virgin when they met.”

Colin asked. “Virgin. How old is this person? Twelve?”

Bruce crinkled up his face. “Nineteen now. Maybe.”

“I’m
. . .
I’m speechless,” Bret said.

“So am I,” Colin added. “Your husband left you because of your friendship while he carried on a pedophilic affair with a teenage Asian virgin.”

Bret shifted her eyes to him.

“Sorry.” Colin hid his snicker
.

Bruce reached out and gave a squeeze to her arm. “On to better things, Bret
,
right?”

“Right.”

“So tell me what brings you here?” Bruce asked.

Before Bret could answer, the door to the shop opened and Bobby walked out.

“Bobby!” Bret smiled widely, peeking around Bruce to the well
-
tone
d
, fit and tall thirty year old black man who emerged, dress
ed
identically to Bruce.

“Bobby?” Colin asked. “This is the ‘and son’?”

Bruce nodded.

“Yes, I see the family resemblance.”

“May not be blood,” Bruce said with a slanted smile. “But no less my kid. Raised him all his life.”

After a hug to Bret, Bobby stepped back. “What’s up, Pop?”

“Bobby
,
meet Mr. Reye.” Bruce introduced. “He’s here for business.”

“Mr. Reye,” Bobby nodded politely with a shake of his hand.

Bret corrected, “Actually, he’s
Professor Reye, a
scientist. And his stature is one of the main reasons he’s here. This project has to do with his job.”

“School job?” Bruce asked.

Colin shook his head. “No. Private. I’m head of Geology at Pitt. And the project is i
mperative. There is a lot of
. . .
shit going on and this
needs to be done. You look like a realistic man, Mr. Weiss. And although I brou
ght this briefcase full of data,
s
omehow I think there’s going to be a suspension of disbelief over t
he geological event of great proportions
I’m here to tell you about.

“You don’t say.” Bruce swished his mouth side by side.

Colin formed a ‘T’ with his hands. “May I pause for a second and ask why you two are dressed like you are when you’re contractors?”

Bruce nodded. “Sure can. Swamp Rats.”

“As in some sort of reunion or birthday ritual for the Ranger squad.”

After a chuckle, Bruce shook his head. “That’s good. But no. Swamp rats.”

“Like the rodent?” Colin asked.

Again, Bru
ce nodded.

“The
y’re
only prevalent in South East Australia.”

Bruce fluttered his lips. “I don’t know about South Australia. I just know the
y’re here. Tons of them. Killed.
…”
With one eye
closed,
he looked up. “Sixty
-
three, last count. Bobby? You?”

“Forty. Don’t rub it in. You’re good with the knife.” Bobby said.

Bret asked. “Swamp rats?”

Colin repeated. “Swamp rats. I wasn’t aware that swamps were a big thing in Pittsburgh.”

“Not usually,” Bruce turned and waved his hand. “Follow me. Watch your step.”

Bret and Colin followed Bruce and Bobby through the building to the back.

“Near as I can figure,” Bruce said as they walked to the back door. “It’s bei
ng this close to the river. But
. . .
sure looks like a swamp to me. What do you think
,
Earth guy?”

Bret scurried, screamed an
d
leapt back when a rat raced across her foot.

There were rats all right. Everywhere, crawling, but that wasn’t the sight that took Colin aback. It was obvious the back property at one time was a good bit wooded and green. But instead of a yard, the fertile area, once flat, had sunk like a pit, as if a meteor had hit. It
was at least ten feet deep with
in a circumference of nearly fifty yards. The tool sheds and
garages erected on the property were tilt
ed and partially collapsed. The bottom of the sunken area was
filled with dark
murky water
,
a
pool that the rats splashed and ran through.

After blasting a rat with a quick shot from his pistol, Bruce turned to Colin with a smile. “Now what was that you were saying about me not believing this geological event of
great
proportions?”

Colin made a typical sarcastic comment to Bruce, that since the area was isolated from neighbors, instead of all the hard work of shooting the rats, why not try gas.

He didn’t think Bruce would oblige.

After a, ‘you know, that’s a good idea’, Bruce stood up, had a huddled talk with Bobby, then suggested that Bret and Colin return in a half an hour.

They did.

Carcasses of rats sprawled out everywhere.

“We’ll clean them later,” Bruce pulled out a chair at the table and joined Colin and Bret. “Now where were we?”

It didn’t take much convincing, or much data at all. Bruce nodded, listened, read what he could, stated
that
he didn’t understand some of it. But he grasped the concept and took it seriously.

“As you know,” Colin said. “We can’t stop the ice age. We can only brace ourselves, prepare and make moves. South is the only direction
we can go. Winslow F
unding has given us the funds needed to start. I seek hands now. Virginia and her husband will be checking out prospective land and vacant installations in Texas to make into our new community. We will go south
, w
hich is where you come in. Bret has told me you and your son are the best.”

“And we’re pretty quick, too.”

“Excellent. When this thing hits, it will it without warning, it will hit fast and hard. Everyone will be heading
south at the same time. We can
not. Why? Mass hysteria will cause impassable roads to be
b
locked
even
more. Cars will die out, people will freeze. What we have to do is wait. Wait unti
l all movement south has ceased;
then those of us here in the north will make our move. So we need a special shelter for this waiting period.” He handed Bruce a stack of papers. “Darius and I aren’t architects, but this is basically what we need. We did a rough drawing, scaled the size and needs. It needs to be done ASAP. We’ve got a location. I think.”

Bruce scratched his head as he flipped through the document. “Looks pretty feasible, but I think there may be flaws. Mind if I keep this, look this over and so forth?”

“Be my guest,” Colin said. “So you can build it.”

“Piece of cake. Structure is done.”

“Won
derful. You may have to hire on
. . . .
”