by Sam Clark
“They look alike, especially the eyes. I can’t look at your granddaughter’s eyes without thinking about Victoria and all the things I wish I’d done differently.”
The two sat silently for a moment, then James stood. “I do not in the least regret what we did to Brian. What I do regret is that I never told Victoria the truth. She loved Brian once, though I do not know if she still loved him at the end. I tell myself that she didn’t. That she couldn’t. But why couldn’t she? It is hardly uncommon to love someone or something that makes you unhappy. So I am left to wonder—maybe knowing he was alive and free would have brought her a modicum of peace. I do not think it would have changed the eventual outcome, but knowing that she acted without all the available information haunts me. I thought the lie would comfort her. Give her closure on that chapter of her life and allow her to move on to the next. Of course, that was just another lie I told myself; the only person it comforted was me. I was too afraid of the truth—that if I told her what had really happened, I would have lost her. But I lost her anyway, and now when I think of her all I can feel is guilt.” Never again.
Mueller’s head tilted back as his gaze went to the ceiling. After a long moment, he nodded, no doubt having resolved some internal debate in the affirmative. When he brought his eyes back down they were clear. He took a ragged breath, then said, “She came to me, shortly before… Begged me to let her out. Said I was the colonel now, I could make it happen. I said no. Told her it was just a reaction to her husband dying. She said it had nothing to do with Brian. That she didn’t really care about him. Never cared about him. That she didn’t care about anything other than getting out of this ‘hellhole,’ to use her word. I was hurt. I was still in love with her, and to feel like what we’d had together meant nothing to her…”
“Thank you for telling me, Ronald.”
“There’s more.” Mueller abruptly turned his head to the left, gnashing his mustache between his teeth. Finally, he brought his eyes back to meet James’s. “I told her to get over it and get on with her life. Last thing I said to her…
“I’ll think about what you proposed, James.”
James had not expected more from the colonel after only one meeting. Mueller was inherently cautious. It had taken James nearly a month to convince him to take Brian down. But he did not have a month this time, not if he wanted both parts of his plan to work. He had to hope the flickering bulbs would be the straw that broke Ronald.
James moved to the door, then paused. He looked back at Ronald and said, “Do not wait too long. Your problems will not diminish with time.” I will make sure of it. “I am confident that after a day or two you will come to see that letting Czarina go is your only good move. Do it for Victoria, and the love you once bore her. Do it to keep the community together. Do it for yourself and your family. Please, Ronald, for whatever reason, just do it.”
***
James was feeling energized as he made his way toward the brig, a bowl full of crickets in one hand and a gasmask in the other. His meeting with Mueller could hardly have gone better and, with the gasmask in hand, he had the last item needed to begin final preparations for phase two of his plan. If Mueller let Czarina go up, he would be ready to protect Isabella.
Private Bruster ushered James in to see Czarina, eyeing the gasmask a great deal but not commenting on it. When James was alone with Czarina he handed her the bowl of crickets. He could not help but notice that she had not been reading Plato upon his arrival. “Well, another fine mess you have gotten yourself into, my girl.”
“He grabbed—”
“I am aware of who did what to whom,” James said, holding up a hand to forestall Czarina continuing with her tale. “I do not disagree with what you were trying to do, even if I do not think you went about it in the best possible way.” It did, however, exponentially increase my leverage over Mueller and solve my problem of how to get Steve to voluntarily ingest strychnine, but you don’t need to know any of that.
The thought struck a nerve and suddenly his second wind was gone, and he felt more wrung out than ever. What he found troubling about the thought was not what he intended to do to Steve. He had no qualms about that, just as he’d had none about Brian. Sometimes two wrongs could make a right, just as a negative multiplied by a negative resulted in a positive. What he hated was lying to his granddaughter. Ironic, considering Czarina of all people would be likely to forgive him for lying out of necessity. Still, as he looked into his granddaughter’s sharp hazel eyes, which did indeed look remarkably like her mother’s, he had the most irrational desire to tell her the truth, despite being almost certain that telling her everything he intended to do would result in her refusing to leave.
He was too old to be impetuous, but he was also too old to live in fear, so he did the rational thing and split the difference. He would tell her the truth, but in his own way. “A mess to be certain, but luckily for you, I am rather confident that I can, once again, get you out of it—but if I do, it will be the last time.”
“Ah, who are you kidding, old man? You love getting me out of trouble and telling me all about how you did it.” Czarina popped a cricket into her mouth and crunched down on it.
“True. I also love to criticize your listening skills. I said ‘can,’ not ‘will,’ girl.”
“Huh?”
“Very articulate. I cannot say more, until I have everything arranged. Just be ready to go when the time comes.”
“Cannot say more?”
“Well played. Will not.”
“Whatever. What’s the gas mask for?”
James smiled. “For a murder plot.”
“Funny,” Czarina said, her mouth full of cricket.
James held up the mask. “I like to walk around and see if people say anything about it. Most people down here are too polite to point it out. Read your Plato, girl.” James used his free hand to bang on the door, which Private Bruster opened a few seconds later.
James left the brig relieved that if he hadn’t necessarily been honest with his granddaughter, at the very least he hadn’t lied to her. It was a start.
TWENTY-FIVE
Location: Underground
Date: 9-11-61
Czarina spent the next four days in the brig with nothing to pass the time but Plato and a daily visit from her sister. For once, she got a lot of sleeping done, despite having to do so on the hard floor. James was conspicuously absent, and Isabella was mum about what the old man was up to. Czarina was convinced it was because James was becoming more unstable and Isabella didn’t want her to worry about it. Czarina had spent a fair bit of time trying to look for signs she’d missed, wondering how she could have been the last to see it. She didn’t come up with much; maybe one or two little things. It was just so hard to tell. Did James just want her to take a second pass at the Enlightenment philosophers, or had he forgotten she’d read most of them last year? Was he just having fun with the gasmask like he said, or was he going batty? Spending over four decades underground couldn’t be good for you. If James’s mind was starting to go, Isabella would need her more than ever. Hell, James would need her too. She had to do something to get out of the brig, and soon.
Shortly after “Reveille” played on Czarina’s fifth day of confinement, James was admitted by Private Bruster. He was grinning, his thick grayish-white hair a disheveled mess.
He looks kind of crazy.
James turned to Bruster and said, “Thank you very much, ma’am.”
“Sure thing,” Bruster replied. “I’ll be on my way.”
James stood in the doorway looking down the hallway for several moments after Bruster left before turning back to face Czarina. “You are leaving,” he said without preamble. “We are going to get you packed up and out of here before Mueller can change his mind.”
He definitely sounds crazy. “Packed up? The only thing I’ve got is a book… and a bucket. And I don’t want the bucket,” she said with a laugh.
James lea
ned against the door frame. “I do not mean you are leaving the brig, although you necessarily must leave the brig in order to leave the bunker.”
She stopped laughing. “What?”
“Did I stutter, girl? You have finally gotten your not-so-secret wish. You are going aboveground.”
As James’s words started to sink in, she jumped to her feet. “I am? The colonel finally decided to go up? Are you packed yet, old-timer?”
James sighed. “Not me, girl—although I thought about it for a minute—and not anyone else either. Just you.”
“What? Why just me?”
“This is hardly the place, girl.”
Czarina threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. She instantly felt bad about it; it wasn’t James’s fault he was starting to lose his memory and that his thoughts were getting muddled. She took a deep breath, then said as calmly as she could, “James, you’re not making sense. You need to tell me what’s going on. And I’m not going anywhere until you do—otherwise, I know you’ll just keep putting me off.”
James sighed. “Fine, I will tell you what I can, but only because it will be faster than arguing with you.” He looked out into the hallway again, then turned to her and said, “Pass me the book.”
Czarina passed him the small paperback and was shocked to see him tear out a page, which he promptly jammed into the strike plate so he could let the door shut without the lock catching.
James turned to face her. “It is just you because I convinced Mueller that the best way to deal with you and the problems you present for him is to let you out of the bunker. For the leadership, you are the biggest troublemaker in here. Well, there is me, but I am old and I will be dead soon. So, if you are gone, all these recent unpleasantries with Steve will never be spoken of again, and everything will go on in an orderly fashion, or so they delude themselves into thinking. I also pointed out that it will make the difficulty with the indicator light go away. It kicks the can down the road, and everyone loves putting off their problems to some future date. If you go aboveground and never come back, as they expect, it will prove—at least in their minds—that it is not safe up there, regardless of what the light says. If, by some miracle, you do come back, speaking of milk, honey, and roads paved with gold, they can decide what to do then. At least, that is how I sold it. It is all a complete load of shit, which is why I have to get you packed up and out of here before Mueller realizes what a crock it is.”
“But why can’t you come with me? You’ve at least been outside the bunker. I could use your help.”
“I am old, Czarina. I would just slow you down. Besides, someone has to look after Isabella.”
A sudden wave of guilt crashed over Czarina. The second James had told her she was leaving, she’d completely forgotten about Isabella. So much for her commitment to protect her sister, to look after her and make sure she was safe. No, Czarina had abandoned her goal of leaving, marked it as a failure, and moved on to a new goal, a new purpose. She wouldn’t abandon them now, after less than a week. And as James said, he was old. And probably sick. For how long could he be expected to look after Isabella? And how well? That wasn’t entirely fair—James could look after her well enough for now. Hell, he was the one who kept getting Czarina out of trouble, so he was probably more capable than she was. However, he was old.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know you worked hard to make this happen, but I can’t leave. Not now, not ever.”
James dropped his chin to his chest so he could stare out over his glasses at her. “What stupidity are you speaking now, girl?”
“Isabella. I have to keep her safe, after you’re gone.”
“I am not dead yet.”
“Look, James, you might not want to hear this, and I don’t say it to be mean, but you’ve been slipping lately.”
James yawned loudly. “Oh, have I been?”
“Isabella’s mentioned it. Fegan. Mueller’s said something. Even Steve.”
“Yet I can still quote the classics. I also continue to beat you at chess without the slightest difficulty. You get into heaps of trouble, and the only thing saving you from spending the rest of your years in this room is my wits. And you have the nerve to imply I am losing my mental faculties?”
She took a moment to consider what James was saying. It was true she’d never really noticed anything. The only reason she had even started to wonder was because others kept mentioning it. If no one had said anything to her, she never would have suspected anything might be wrong with James. Yet once it was mentioned, she’d started deliberately looking for things to confirm what she’d been told. Sloppy, sloppy, Czarina. “So, what’s the game?”
James chuckled softly. “One of the advantages of being old is that people assume you have gone soft in the head. So I occasionally show them what they expect to see.”
“So, what? You’re faking senility?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You are not the only one who is bored down here and enjoys a good social experiment, girl. It’s as I told you the other day, I like to see how people react. Besides, it comes in handy more than you might think. People don’t see you as a threat. They talk in front of you as if you are not there, and say all sorts of things they should not. If someone asks you to do something you do not want to do, you can simply not do it and say you forgot. Ironically, it makes people more suggestive to your ideas because they can steal them without worrying they will be taken to task for it. I also thought it would buy you some slack. Another bonus, I can walk right into any of the supply rooms and help myself to whatever I want, and no one bats an eye. Just James being James. Most recently, it was instrumental in helping the good colonel decide to let you go. We had a conversation where some hard truths—and unpleasant, yet likely, scenarios of how it would play out if you stayed—were discussed. These are truths and possibilities Mueller would rather not consider. My ‘condition’ helped me to manipulate the conversation in such a way as to help the colonel confront these truths and arrive at the right decision. And I suspect it will come in handy again before the day is out.”
“What truths? What scenarios?”
“I will not tell you.”
“You always say a hard truth is better than a pleasant lie.”
“I do.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Are you going to tell me these truths, or are you going to be a hypocrite?” It was too harsh and she knew it even before it took James’s smile away, but at that moment she didn’t care.
“If I told you, it would jeopardize everything I have worked for, and I will not have that. Suffice it to say, I convinced Mueller that your leaving would be the best way to save his own family, and also to ease the tension created throughout the bunker by the malfunctioning light—which is coincidently the worst-kept secret down here, thanks to an old man who can’t remember to keep his mouth shut. Regarding the former, Steve is dangerous. Everybody knows it, including Mueller. With you gone, people can pretend that he is not, at least for a little while. Mueller has, with my help, deluded himself into thinking that Steve’s behavioral problems were exacerbated by your presence, and that with you gone so, too, are his family problems. Regarding the latter, I told you before, no one really wants to leave the safety of the bunker. By sending you out, it creates the appearance of doing something about the all-clear indicator, without actually doing anything about it. So, two birds, as they say.”
“And Isabella?”
“Unfortunate that I had to keep her in the dark, but necessary for the ruse. I needed her to talk to Steve about her fears so he could pass the information on to his father and others. True, I could have simply asked her to tell Steve she was worried about me. However, she’s thirteen and I didn’t know if she would lie to her boyfriend, or whatever he was, simply because her grandfather asked her to. Even if she had agreed, I am not entirely sure she could have pulled
it off. It was not as though I was asking her to merely keep a secret or a story straight, which would not have been a problem for her. For this deception to have been believable, she would have had to convey a subtle and varying range of emotions over a period of weeks. The only way I could guarantee success was by deceiving her too, so she did not have to act at all. As soon as you are safely gone, I will tell her I am fine.”
Czarina rubbed a hand through her hair. “But will she be safe after you… you know?”
“Die? Yes, I promise you I can do a great deal to ensure Isabella is safe after you and I are gone. I have a plan for her, too. However, it will only work if you are as far away from here as possible. Now can we please go back to our quarters.”
“What’s this plan? Why will it only work if I’m gone?”
James ran a hand aggressively through his tangled hair. “Regardless of what my plan is, did you ever think that perhaps Isabella is safer without you here? That she is, with a little help from yours truly”—James pointed to himself—“perfectly capable of taking care of herself? Any trouble she finds down here is likely to have its origins with you. Steve was interested in her because of you.”
“Hey, that’s not fair!”
“I know. One of life’s many hard truths is that it is not fair. But think about it. Do you think Steve ever would have been interested in Isabella if you hadn’t embarrassed him? And the fact that he deserved it is irrelevant when evaluating the consequences of the action. With you gone, and Isabella’s recent change in perspective, Steve has no reason to be interested in your sister.”
She blinked her eyes rapidly as she turned her head to stare at the wall. Well, there you have it. No point in staying where I’m not wanted. And I’ve wanted to get out of here for longer than I’ve wanted to be Izzy’s protector.
“Now go pack. You have a lot to do to get ready. You are leaving at seven thirty tomorrow morning.”
Czarina looked back at James and shrugged her shoulders, as if the simple gesture could somehow shed the hurt of what James had just said. She stepped past him, shoved the door open, and left the brig without saying another word. What was there to say? Besides, she had a lot of packing to do.