Will to Survive (12 page)

Since the meetings almost always took place at our house, my father had been offered a spot on the committee, but he often didn't participate. Usually he'd just listen or give advice when asked, but he seemed more comfortable not being there. Right now he was upstairs napping.

The twins were playing Old Maid and I'd warned them to be quiet. He needed his sleep. Now I sat in a corner of the kitchen and listened as the committee discussed what had happened. Some of it was hard to hear.

In the end, another four of our guards had been shot by the snipers—three had died and the fourth was in critical condition and might not make it. That would bring the snipers' death toll to seven if we included the four more people found dead at the condo. They appeared to have been bystanders; they'd simply been living in one of the units the snipers had wanted to use.

“Who do you think did this?” Councilwoman Stevens asked.

“It involved military efficiency, a couple of high-powered rifles, and a sniper's ruthlessness,” Herb said.

“So you think it was the colonel and his Division,” Dr. Morgan said.

“No, I don't.”

“But why not?” Howie asked. “Wouldn't it be logical to take shots at our guards—the way we've been taking shots at their guards—as sort of payback, revenge?”

“Revenge is not logical,” Herb answered. “It's emotional. I think that from what I've learned through Quinn and also from the colonel's actions, I've put together a pretty accurate psychological profile of both him and his old cronies. First, he has no attachment to his men. They are only pawns to him. Their loss would not be something that he would want revenge for, because they are little cogs in the machine and can simply be replaced. He doesn't attack for pleasure; he acts for gain. And though there were seven, possibly eight, people killed, there was no real gain here for the Division last night.”

“Then who do you think it is?” Judge Roberts asked.

“Brett,” I said, and everybody turned to me. I felt uneasy but not because of my answer. “I think that was Brett in the tower.”

“Brett and at least three other men,” Herb offered.

“I agree,” said my mom. “I think it was Brett, because this was completely personal. He wanted to hurt us, show us that he was still out there. I wouldn't be surprised if he spray-painted his name on the side of the building.”

“I guess in some ways it's reassuring that it wasn't anything to do with the Division,” the councilwoman said.

“Actually, I'm not saying it wasn't.” Herb rubbed his temples. “If Brett isn't dead, it's because he's still part of them.”

“I just hope he's nothing more than a rogue foot soldier and not a major player,” Mom added. “Maybe he just took a few men and independently decided to hit us.”

“If it
is
Brett, he knows us the way we know him,” I said. “He would predict we would do the kind thing and not the ruthless and efficient thing. We can't allow his predictions to be right, so we only have one option to prevent this from happening again.”

“We have to take down the tower,” my mother said.

“Exactly. If we try to protect ourselves by guarding it, he will use our kindness against us and launch a full-out attack on the tower and kill whoever we send out there.” Herb looked around the room. “Is anybody prepared to risk the lives of our people to protect that tower?”

The implication was obvious: Herb was proposing that, to save the lives of our own people, we destroy the tower and send its residents packing. That would mean leaving possibly a dozen or more families, from what had been reported earlier in the meeting, homeless. It
was
a ruthless proposal, almost evil, but it was probably the best thing to do. It was the
only
thing to do if we didn't want the snipers to hit us over and over.

Before anyone could respond, Herb spoke again. “I want to be clear—it's not up to me, or Captain Daley. I think the committee as a whole has to make the decision.”

Silence fell. There wasn't a person in the room who didn't know what needed to be done, but nobody wanted to do it.

Finally my mother spoke. “Herb is right, but we need to discuss this fully before we decide. In the interim, we need to secure the tower.”

Something had been niggling at me all this time, and I finally realized what it was. “What if—” I stopped myself. Would they really go for this?

Everybody was looking at me.

I should have kept my mouth shut, at least until I had the whole idea worked out. But I plunged ahead. “I was just thinking … what if we extended the wall outward to expand around the condo tower?”

Murmurs went around the committee table, and then Judge Roberts spoke up. “If we are going to absorb those people into the neighborhood, it would be a lot easier just to invite them in to take vacant houses and then destroy the tower.”

“Well,” I began, “I was thinking about how a medieval castle often had an inner wall and an outer wall. What if we work with the people out there to create a secondary wall that extends along Burnham a few streets over, making a wall that parallels our wall along Erin Mills and then joins back in at our north wall?”

“If the people out there could have done that, they already would have,” Herb said.

“We could help them gather material and construct the wall,” I suggested.

“But even if it was constructed, it would strain our forces to guard an area that much larger,” Howie said.

“The newcomers would guard it. We would train them—you could train them, Howie—and help them with basic weapons like clubs and bows and arrows. We could even give them a couple of walkie-talkies so that if there is trouble, we'd not only be aware of it but could send out reinforcements to help them. Nobody would get to the tower without us knowing and instantly surrounding them.”

I could tell people were mulling over what I was saying.

“And once there are walls and guards, they could grow food because they could protect their crops. We could help them there, too. We could help them plow and plant,” I suggested.

“It wouldn't take long for me to do that with the tractor,” Mr. Peterson said. “And we could certainly lend them a couple of rototillers. It's only August. There's still time for an autumn crop of potatoes and onions.”

“We could even help them build their own rototillers, convert some snow blowers,” Mr. Nicholas said.

“We could also provide them with some medical benefits,” Dr. Morgan said. “We couldn't do anything that involves using our precious supply of medication, but we could help with basic medical care, minor treatments.”

I kept going. “And if Erin Mills was protected with a friendly neighborhood on that side, the people on our walls would be safer. If we just simply destroyed the tower, a sniper could always pick off our guards by firing from other houses behind the tower. This way he couldn't do it.”

“And the Cessna would be protected on takeoffs and landings on Erin Mills Parkway,” my father added. He must have just woken up from his nap and been listening from the doorway. “We wouldn't be so reliant on the ultralight if we were under attack. That would be much better.”

Herb stood up and walked over to my side and put a hand on my shoulder. “Interesting thoughts, Adam.”

“Actually, you gave me the idea.”

He shot me a questioning look.

“You talked about points of light in the sky,” I continued, “about how we were one of those points. And then Lori talked about constellations. Building walls is like drawing lines between points, making the individual areas into something bigger, stronger, better. We can stop being a single star and start to become a constellation of stars, the center of a series of connected neighborhoods.”

“So really you're not just talking about this one neighborhood,” Judge Roberts said.

“I think this is just the start,” I said. “Of course, only if the committee agrees.”

The judge looked around. “I think we need to put this to a vote. All those in favor of exploring the option put forward by Adam, please raise your hand.”

First my mother, Howie, Dr. Morgan, Councilwoman Stevens, and Mr. Peterson raised their hands. Then Ernie, my father, Mr. Nicholas, and Judge Roberts. Everybody raised their hand except Herb. He still stood beside me, his arms at his side. Finally he raised his hand as well.

“It looks like it's unanimous,” my mother said. “Let's get to work.”

 

12

It was hard to believe that only three weeks had passed, but a combination of desperation and hope had fueled the changes. The new wall was going up quickly. All the learning that had gone into making our walls was put to use in making the new walls of our neighbors. Concrete sections were “harvested” from farther along the old noise-barrier fencing beside the parkway and brought in by one of our ancient flatbed trucks. Old wooden backyard fences were taken down and used to fortify the new section of the neighborhood.

Two hundred fifty-seven people lived in the new area. Councilwoman Stevens and the judge were working with them to establish their own ruling committee. Mr. Peterson had been over to start plowing the former park and assist them with laying out and preparing their fields with late-bearing crops. We had enough seed potatoes to give them, which would grow well into the fall. Howie had been training their guards, the people who would be on the walls, and we'd even offered them a few surplus guns to supplement the half dozen they already had. Mostly it would be clubs, knives, and bows and arrows that would be their weapons. Not perfect, not nearly as good as our weaponry, but it was better than nothing.

The work was moving quickly, and while it was being completed we had placed guards outside our walls on a temporary basis to protect them and the tower.

Herb, as always, was at the center of everything.

Right now I was listening in, off to the side, while he concluded another conversation. I was always amazed at the multiple roles he played. Simultaneously he was giving directions, asking questions, acting like a cheerleader—leading but making other people think they were in charge.

As he finished talking to this one guy he slapped the man on the back and sent him away, smiling and happy.

“This is all going pretty well,” I said.

“It is, but I'm not surprised, considering the alternatives.”

“I guess our people can also see the benefits for us,” I added.

“Having a secure force on our west side means that we're more secure. Of course you understood that before the rest of us.”

“Somebody else would have thought of it if I hadn't,” I said.

He shook his head. “Perhaps. But I was ready to blow up the tower, to reduce it to a pile of rubble, and the rest of the committee was more than willing to go along with it. I wanted a simple solution, and you were there playing chess.”

That made me smile. I was being praised for my game by a grand master.

“I'm just curious, if we had blown up the tower what would have happened to the people who lived there?”

“They would have been forced to leave. At gunpoint if necessary.”

“You could do that?” I asked.

“Listen, I can do whatever it takes. You know that. That's what makes it so important for you to keep doing what you're doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Keep on questioning my decisions,” Herb said. “Sometimes the people on the committee are uneasy about challenging me.”

“Well, you have been right most of the time.”

“Just keep on questioning what I'm saying, promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Herb laughed.

“What's so funny?”

“My mother used to make me say that when I had to promise her something.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “You know, it's been a long time since I thought about her.” He paused. “She always made me think things through, always cautioned me not to be so impulsive.”

“You're always thinking things through. You're the chess master.”

“In this case, I'm glad you were able to come up with a solution that involved hurting no one. But you know that that sort of solution might not always be possible.”

“I know.” That didn't mean I'd stop hoping. “I'm just glad you think that this is going so well … that everybody thinks it was the right thing to do. It is good.”

Herb turned his head slightly to the side—he looked like he was studying me. “And?” he asked.

“It's just that if it was such a good thing to expand and help one area, well…”

“Wouldn't it be even better to expand in a different direction as well? Right?” he asked.

I nodded. “Right now we have neighbors on our south wall and this new section to our west. Why not establish a third to the north and a fourth to east?”

“We can't afford to stretch ourselves too thin,” Herb said.

“If we do it right, we won't be stretched but covered. Isn't there more strength in numbers? You know, united we stand.”

“In principle, but sometimes the reality is different. You're going to have to trust me on that one.”

“So we shouldn't try to expand?” I asked.

“I didn't say that. Matter of fact, I have an expansion of our neighborhood walls in mind already. What do you think about taking the plane up on a little flight?”

“I'm ready anytime.”

“How about Lori and Todd? Maybe they should come along with us.”

I figured they'd be happy to go, and was happy to have an excuse to rustle them up.

 

13

I opened up the throttle and the Cessna raced along the strip of road. It had only been five days since my last flight, but I felt a rush of excitement.

I pulled back on the yoke and my spirits rose as the plane did. I grinned over at Herb in the copilot seat, and then turned around and gave a quick glance at Lori and Todd in the back. They both gave me the thumbs-up.